I got you. The fisherwoman says. Youre all mine now.

Instead of being grateful I begin trying to tear myself out of the net, but shes pulling me in and shaking her head. I understand the expression of knit brows now, and I watch her while she untangles me from the net. I hear her whisper my name and I feel her hand on my back, stroking over it before stopping. Im apprehensive and I curl up tightly, touching my knees to my elbows without moving my arms at all. Im locked like this until I turn and I see her. Shes on the ship with me.

Except its not a ship, its a bed. Its my bed, with the green and yellow striped sheets that Jenny picked out, and the denim blue comforter bunched against the bottom of the bed. Oh yeah. Carmen. Carmens here.

Carmen. I say without realizing it, Im making sure shes here. She smiles. Her hair is messy, but I like it, I think it makes her look genuine and I know she is the fisherwoman in my dreams. My savior.

Shane. She says back to me, with that smooth, lusty voice that makes me inhale. I pull her to me, and I hold her. She looks serious and a pang of worry crosses my mind. I wonder if shes here out of pity or out of lust. I wonder if she even thinks Im serious. I hope she does, because I am. I have never wanted something so bad.

Shes warm in my arms and she smells musky, like cherries and vanilla, or like rain after its soaked through an entire field of tall grass. I inhale until the pressure in my windpipe hinders me and I sigh, she sighs too. Were very airy now, I fight off a chuckle. Instead, I close my eyes and remember the night before. All modesty aside, Ive never had a better connection. Carmens skin is like satin and I constantly want to touch her in some small way; I always want a hand on her.

Shes looking at me again, rubbing against the scar on my chest that causes a dull ache in my heart. I was running as usual, running from the police after shoplifting. A stupid baseball; there were tons at the orphanage, but I wanted the one with the bright blue stitching. I hopped a fence and it caught my shirt and sliced me open like a hot knife through butter. I had to get forty three stitches in the gash and a few bruised knuckles from the nuns at the orphanage. I learned my lesson about stealing then, but instead of telling this to Carmen, I gave her the small outline of it and she seemed happy that I shared that much with her.