Week Nine: Monday Who: Davia and Charlie When: Early Night Where: Somewhere on the beach
It was a little known fact that Davia came here just about every night. Ever since the conversation with Starbuck and the party that had followed, she had found herself craving the beach, the ocean, the serenity of it all. Even though it made her melancholy to be in a place that held so many memories of her mother, she also found comfort in it, in a way, and it made her feel closer to the woman that her mother was before her father, David, had murdered her. She had to imagine that her mother had been a very different person before then, happier. And a part of her had grown to resent her father for what he had done to her, what he had done to Davia as well.
With shoes held in her hand, she walked up to the shoreline to dig her toes into the cold, wet sand, the waves washing up and lapping over her feet. She stared out at the seemingly endless horizon and imagined what it must be like to sail out there, to be lost in the vast of blue that seemed to have no beginning and no end. She envied the people that could do that, that could take off like that and so thoroughly lose themselves and had no need to ever come back to shore. She wished that she could be like them. But alas, her life would not allow it, not that she had many attachments, hardly any, but she had the need for things that one could not so easily find out on the open water.
With a glance at her watch, she decided it was about time to head back. If she took the scenic route, she would be there probably an hour or so before curfew which would give her enough time to look over notes for tomorrow's classes. There was a beach entrance about a mile up that would take her onto the main strip where there was a really nice coffee shop that she could go to. Feet still bare, she headed in that direction, walking a pretty good ways before she noticed someone else there on the sand looking just as lost in thought as she had been.