I can't even begin to comprehend what I'm staring at. Gone. Vanished into thin air like a ghost. The only remains of Oscar are his blanket and pillow, along with an extra T-shirt in the back corner of the tent. I glance around for any clues that could lead to a reasonable explanation, but my mind is yet again left with the unknown. There's no way Oscar had the strength to exit the tent, let alone get up and leave the beach, or wherever the hell he went. Not with the condition I saw him in.

          Agitatedly, I make my way over to my own tent, to make sure this isn't just my mind playing tricks on me. I erratically pull down the zipper to the door. As I expected, there's no sign of Oscar. Deep down, I already knew that he wasn't in here, but just the thought was soothing enough for me to play along.

           Regardless, things have gone from bad to worse. My anxiety gradually turns into anger, and I start to blame myself for the terrible situation we're stuck in. Why did we have to come to this bloody island? How could I be so stupid to let someone drop us off by boat in the middle of nowhere? I got lost up in the hype, and now we're paying the price for it. We could have just spent the night hanging around in Hanoi and paid for the hotel later.

          "Fuck!" I scream under my breath, pulling at my hair in frustration. With all the commotion going on, it takes me a moment to realize that Christina is still with me. She's standing down by the shoreline again, her back still turned to me, obscuring her face.

          "Christina, I can't believe this! Oscar is gone!"

          I wait for a reaction—anything—absolutely anything. But just like the last few hours, Christina is completely unphased by my words. She continues to just stand there casually with her arms crossed, glancing out to the horizon as the wind blows through her long, black hair.

          "Christina...please?" I practically beg.

          Again, nothing. I feel the combination of both fear and frustration building up inside me like a tea kettle boiling over on the stove. I can't hold it back any longer.

          "Answer me, Goddammit!" I shout. "This isn't all about you, Christina! Oscar might be fucking dead, and you're just standing around acting like a—"

          "Hey, guys!" interrupts a familiar voice.

          I turn around and see Shawn at the bottom of the ridge, a big, wide smile spread across his face. He's standing at an angle, and has his hands placed on his hips as a superhero would.

          "How's it goin'!" he asks triumphantly, that smile still present.

          "Oh my God, Shawn!" I sprint over towards him, ready to spill all the horrible news. I know that he'll at least listen to me.

          Though once I get to him, it's like the words are stuck in my throat. "Oscar! He—he...Oscar, he's—"

          Shawn looks at me with a raised brow, his white teeth flashing through that mysterious grin. "Is everything okay, Jane? You seem a little out of sorts."

          "No! O-Oscar, he—he's not—n-not inside the—" Jesus. This is beyond aggravating. Why can't I just form a simple sentence? I feel like I'm a toddler again, having to re-learn how to use basic vocabulary words. It's driving me nuts.

          But again, absolutely out of nowhere, I begin to feel a strange sensation inside my body. It's the same anxious feeling I had yesterday when we first arrived on the island—that whole snake inside my belly thing. This time, however, it's in my throat, and it's starting to feel like there's perhaps a...cockroach...trapped inside my windpipe. Just like last time, I can literally feel its little legs scurrying up my trachea, gradually crawling to my larynx, forming a small bulge in the front of my neck. My entire body freezes in panic.

          I'm just about ready to scream again, when the anxious feeling goes away completely, and I return to my old self.

           "Is there something you want to tell me?" Shawn asks, puzzled.

          Gradually, coming back to my senses, trying my best to push away the morbid cockroach image, I feel I'm capable of speaking again. "It's Oscar—he disappeared! We came back from the watering hole and he just vanished!"

          Shawn stares at me with those blue eyes, the same blue eyes I've grown to love over the past couple of years. But they're a darker blue this time—an angrier blue.

          "Oh...well that's too bad, isn't it?" he replies with a chuckle. "I guess we're just gonna have to leave without him." 

          "W-what did you say?" I must have heard him wrong.

          "Listen. I saw a boat, Jane—a big one, too!"

           "Really! You did?" I feel a massive sigh of relief, yet am still confused and worried as to what's going on here.

          "Yup—comin' around the corner fast! Better get our stuff packed up quick if we wanna catch it!" Shawn excuses himself around me towards the tents.

          I follow right behind him. "But Shawn! Did you not hear me? I said Oscar is gone!"

          This time he ignores me, his pace getting quicker.

          As we walk, I notice that Christina is still not phased or listening.

          Shawn doesn't acknowledge her strange presence. He crouches beside the first tent, and starts to casually take it down, as if Oscar was never part of the group in the first place.

          "Shawn! Oscar isn't here! Are you seriously gonna just act like this is no big deal?"

          He turns around slowly after pulling off the tarp of the tent. "Jesus, babe. Relax. He probably went to take a piss in the bushes. Give his legs a quick stretch."

          "Are you freakin' kidding me?" I start to raise my voice. "He didn't just 'get up and stretch,' Shawn! He could barely even breathe last time we checked!"

          Shawn shakes his head. "I don't know what to say, Jane. But in the meantime, I would appreciate you helping me take down these tents. I really don't want to miss that boat." He resumes his work, now pulling out the tent's pegs.

          "Shawn, I need you to be real here! Where the hell is Oscar?"

          "Like I said, I don't know what to say. Now hurry over here and help. I'd hate to waste all our money and miss our check-in time at the hotel."

          Is he serious right now? That's all he cares about in this situation—money?

          "Look! I don't give a shit if we dry out our entire bank account, I'm not leaving this island without Oscar!"

          "Fine then." Shawn makes another unphased facial expression. "If you don't make it back to the mainland, it's not my problem."

          My jaw literally drops in shock. "Shawn...why are you acting like this? Oscar is your best friend!"

          "Would you please stop yelling at me, Jane? When you're ready to have a mature adult conversation, then we'll speak. Thank you." He turns his back and starts on the second tent.

           I can't believe he thinks this behaviour is acceptable. It takes everything inside me not to flip on him. However, that's when I notice something very peculiar on his left hand. There, on the palm, lay a trail of a red, liquid substance. I don't know what that means, but it gives me a very unsettling feeling. 

           "Shawn?" I say in a calmer, nervous tone.

           "Yes?" he surprisingly replies.

          "What is that red stuff on your hand?"

          "What red stuff?"

          "On your left hand. Is that blood?"

          Shawn pauses for a moment, taking a deep sigh. "Why as a matter of fact, yes it is, Jane."

          "Why?" I question.

          "Because—"

          "Because why?"

          Again, it takes him a second to respond. "I—I slipped while climbing behind the ridge...that's all."

          For some weird reason, I'm not buying his story. "Well, are you okay? Do you need anything from the medkit?"

          "Nope! Most certainly not!" He laughs again.

          This time it's my turn to cross my arms and put on a baffled look. I want proof. I want to see the actual cut.

          "Let me see."

          "What?" He tries to play dumb.

          "You heard me. I wanna see your cut, and I wanna know what caused it."

          Shawn looks rather taken back.  "Well, I, uh...lost my balance on one of the rocks. Then a stick poking out caught me in the belly. It's no big deal though. Seriously—I'm fine!"

          "I would like to see the cut on your stomach, please," I say with a serious tone.

          "Uh...yeah, I—I—" Shawn stutterers as his facial expression tightens, then changes his mind as his voice gets snarky. "You know what? No! I don't have to show you if I don't want to, Jane. Now would you quit it with all these questions? You're really starting to irritate me." He carries on with his duties.

          It's all too much for me to handle. With Oscar sick and missing, Christina not speaking a word, and Shawn acting like a total dickhead.

          "Fine then! If I have to find Oscar by myself, then I will!" I turn and run towards the jungle.

          "Get back here, Jane!" Shawn yells as I disappear into the trees. "The boat's gonna be here any minute!"

          "Asshole," I mumble under my breath, hopping over sticks and logs in my flip-flops. At this point, it doesn't seem like he's made an attempt to come and track me down, and decides to let me go. Like I made clear earlier, I'm not leaving this island without my brother. So either way, it doesn't matter.

          I run as fast as I can with no set destination, pumping my arms and using all the muscles in my legs. So many questions; yet so few answers. If Shawn really did get cut on the stomach, then why on earth did the blood end up all over his palm? I highly doubt that he would use his hand to clean it off, when he could've waited to get back to the camp and spray some water on it. Am I really going to do the unthinkable here? Am I actually going to attempt to convince myself otherwise that my boyfriend murdered my innocent brother and hid his body somewhere? 

          No. Don't think like that, Jane. That's blasphemous and not true.

           Running...running...running. That's all I can focus on. 

          If Oscar is still alive, which I'm praying to God he is, then he's got be somewhere in here. I don't know how, but it's the only place that makes sense. Obviously, there's no way he tried to swim his way off the island. Not even an Olympic swimmer could survive that current out in the reef, let alone someone in the condition that Oscar was suffering from. My intuition leads me to believe that Shawn is hiding something, but then again Christina is acting pretty sus herself.

          Poof! I nearly crash into a palm tree I'm running so hard. I come to a complete stop, wrapping my arms around the trunk. I then place my hands behind my head, trying to catch my breath. I've only made it about a hundred yards, but it feels like I just completed the New York City marathon. The birds chirp from the branches above as my breathing gradually slows back down to its normal pace. I close my eyes and observe my thoughts for a minute.

          Is this really a good idea though—splitting up from the others and searching for Oscar on my own? The last time the group parted ways, not even twenty minutes ago, everything went to shit. 

          After debating in my head, realizing I may have slightly overreacted, I decide that I'm going to make my way back to the beach. I don't exactly want to, but I feel like it's the smarter option. I guess I was so overwhelmed that running and getting the energy was enough to give me a spurt of clarity.

          I just hope that my companions will work with me, and not against me.