One of the first customs that Yanire had gotten used to was the joint meal the members of the household ate together. Every single night, without fail, the members gathered around the dining table at about 8:30 to have dinner together. It was not a rule per se, nobody was in any way forced to attend. Yet they all seemed to attend without needing any such coercion.
Being isolated on an island in the middle of an icey ocean with only three other people could get emotionally distressing pretty quickly if you had no tinge of normalcy in the mix. Yanire figured this was why they all gathered this way.
She was already immune to isolation by now in her own way. Martien had stripped her of humanity in every way that he could. A bitterness began to slink through her veins at the very thought of the bastard. He really hadn't been bad in the beginning… sometimes things deteriorate faster than we can process them and she had learned that lesson the hardest way of all.
"Earth to Yanire."
Miss Secoiya's voice shook her from her thoughts and she put the fork she'd been strangling down with a soft clack.
"Sorry, what were you saying?"
"I was asking where you hail from."
The first portion of her stay, Adriel and Secoiya had maintained the brunt of the dinner conversations, wandering through every topic from old movies to perimeter checks. Zayn had remained completely quiet throughout their dinners, often scribbling away in a notebook, likely regarding their latest business ventures. He obviously wasn't big on social interactions and none of them felt obligated to force it upon him.
When they had warmed to the idea that Yanire was truly just an unfortunate side effect of a randomised shipwreck and not an infiltrating spy, they began to invite her in on parts of the conversation. She didn't mind so much really, she hadn't talked to anyone casually in a long while, safe for Emesta.
"Ahh, well I was born in the Philippines and grew up there until I was eighteen."
Secoiya nodded, Adriel's brows furrowing.
"If you don't mind, how old are you?"
Yanire shrugged, her age didn't seem an important factor anyhow.
"Twenty five."
Secoiya looked a bit surprised, Adriel looked unaffected entirely.
"How old are the two of you?"
Miss Polson smiled.
"Love, I'm forty six."
Yanire's eyes grew wide.
"You have a six pack at forty six??"
The woman shrugged, secretly very proud of her flex.
"I'm twenty two."
The woman was actually a tad surprised that Adriel was younger than her, being that he owned and operated several businesses. Then again, he was a wealthy heir after all. Having a scale of their ages made them even that little bit much less like strangers.
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Soon enough, Yanire had found herself comfortable day-to-day on Alvarsson island. She had a routine of sorts with just enough variety so as not to feel redundant. She woke up early and did an entry regarding what number of days she was on and the most interesting of things which had occurred. She'd opted to write completely in her native language, both to pay homage and because she was plotting in her own sort of way.
Yanire had already deduced that the island was designed to be impenetrable, and thus inescapable. However, she still took it upon herself to gather as much potential escape intel as possible and document it for later use. She learned that the helicopters dropped shipments off on the roof, which could only be accessed by Adriel's room, a location which she'd pointedly avoided. She'd jotted down the distance from the house to the defence system and how the defence system worked as well. It was a motion detector which gunned down anything that moved on Alvarsson island's shores.
In general, she was in a tricky position. She couldn't make for the beach without getting gunned down, and even if she made it that far there would be no boat to board. The roof route might be plausible, but she had little to no information regarding how it was accessed or what sort of security systems were in place. Furthermore there was no way to climb the building and get onto the roof. There wasn't a single ladder or tree or abandoned beam anywhere to be found.
She'd accepted the predicament of being trapped with little fuss. It wasn't the most unpleasant place she'd ever been trapped in. For the moment, it might even be a benefit to her, because being trapped on an impenetrable island which nobody had any knowledge of ensured a very important thing:
Martien van Bijvank would not get to her.
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On day thirty six, Yanire was huddled up on a beach chair near the inside pool, watching the swirl of the lukewarm water as she dazed off in a land of sorts. She'd taken to a new way to pass time on the island: daydreaming. She'd managed to create an entire fantasy world in her time spent wandering the expanse of her mind.
In her world, Joeri was still alive and well. Martien never existed, had never been his father. Joeri had learned both Dutch and Filipino fluently and was nearing his eighth birthday, hitting a tiny growth spurt. Everything about Joeri was kept the same. The way he only had a dimple on his left cheek; the way he mispronounced "Ama" when he tried to use the Filipino term; the way his tiny fingers couldn't quite hit all the keys on her old piano; Yanire wouldn't change a damn thing, never. The only difference was that in her mind, he could live on and grow to be a strong and dashing young man.
Perhaps he'd grow to be a professional pianist. A doctor or lawyer if he so chose, but really anything so long as it meant he got to grow. Anything so long as it meant he would survive.
Yanire was far too gone to notice the dampness of her cheeks or the way the other poolside chair dipped with the weight of another person. It wasn't until they spoke that she snapped out of it.
"Yanire."
The woman looked to Adriel and turned so she was facing him rather than the pool.
"What sort of clothes do you prefer?"
Yanire raised a brow.
"Why do you ask?"
Adriel shrugged before delving into explanation.
"You know about the supply drops we get, yes?"
Yanire nodded.
"Well every person on the island gets to put in orders of some kind, it's essentially your way of getting hygiene materials or things you want while you're here. Since you've been helping Secoiya out with the housework and generally being useful, I figured we could set you up with supplies."
Yanire was a bit surprised but it made sense. They couldn't exactly be expected to strand themselves on an island without any sort of privileges. Finally, Yanire responded.
"Alright, well I'll come up with some things. Thanks."
Adriel nodded, standing up and striding off with his usual confidence.
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Yanire thought for a great while about what it was exactly she needed. What it was exactly that she wanted. As for clothes, the topic was a bit tense for her. When she'd first met Martien, she dressed however she wanted and it was never an issue. Though when she became pregnant, things took a turn for the worse. He would shame her if ever she wore something revealing or tight, whether he did so through her weight gain from the pregnancy or classic slut-shaming was sort of irrelevant.
Yanire pondered the subject greatly. She'd grown rather used to turtlenecks and sweats in her time with her former husband, and she hadn't really minded the clothes, it was the principle of it that bothered her. Should she wear clothes she couldn't before? Or should she stick to what she had grown accustomed to? Her head swirled with possibility and a wave of sickness hit her.
A streak of defiance hit her as she decided. She would do both. She would wear clothes that Martien never would have allowed, but she wouldn't forbid herself the luxury of comfort either just because it reminded her of him. After writing down her sizes and preferences, she thought more towards the hygiene side and what sorts of things were missing.
The bathroom attached to her room had no shortage of soap or feminine hygiene products, but still, she would've liked to be more selective. So she wrote down her favourite soap types and mentioned off to the side that they were not necessities. Looking down at the list, she found it to be sufficient enough. Basic clothes and coffee-scented soaps weren't unreasonable asks and she felt comfortable enough asking for them. Perhaps with time she'd feel well enough to ask for more, but at the moment she wished to be polite.
The list remained in her room whilst she attended dinner and once or twice she caught expectant glances from Adriel, but he never verbally pushed the matter. After they'd eaten, most of the members retired to their rooms, with the exception of Secoiya who slipped off to the living room for a movie binge. Yanire had gathered the list from her room and approached the door to Adriel's nervously.
Maybe it would've been better to wait until morning, she had no way of knowing whether or not he was asleep. An idea hit her and she slid the small paper under the door before turning around and evacuating the area as quickly as she could.
Adriel made her nervous, if she were being honest. It wasn't so much that he'd threatened her life as it was the way that he had threatened her life. His deep blue eyes were a calm storm and his brows were even with no emotion hidden in them. He'd looked at her the way a person looks at the morning paper, it was just a matter of principle and routine. Yanire didn't have to see proof to know that the man had killed people before, it was written all over him.
She shuddered and pushed the thoughts from her mind. It was probably better to focus on how strangely nice everyone had been during her stay. Safe for Zayn, they all interacted with her normally and none of them had made a move to harm her up to date.
It was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that she didn't want any harm to befall her, but a curse in that it was easy to accept being a captive. Her head started to ache with confusion and contradiction and she shook the thoughts away flippantly.
With an empty mind and heavy eyelids, she collapsed on the bed and let sleep take over.