Yes. There he is. Dean Johnson—the boy who stole my heart on the Seattle monorail—looking just as handsome as I remember. First, it was the thought of him while I looked out of the plane window back home. Then the picture of us together I noticed on my phone at the campfire last night, then the mirror he gave me that I found up on the ridge—and now standing right before me. His smooth brown hair trails off to the side, combed back like he always used to wear it. We stare into each others' eyes, the contact between us never once breaking. It feels just like that day I got on the monorail and saw him for the first time. 

          "Hello, Jane," he eventually says in a monotone voice, along with a deadpan look. "Long time no see."

          It takes a minute to process what he said, the darkness making his facial expression somewhat hard to read. His familiar voice is so chilling, yet so soothing at the same time.

          "You—you're not r-real...are you?" I ask, softly.

          Dean gives me a simple smirk. "I'm whatever you want me to be, Jane. You know I'm always here for you when you need someone to talk to."

          I gulp, feeling shivers run down my spine. "None of this is real, is it?"

          He shrugs, his head shaking slowly. "Only time will tell."

          Jesus. I can't even comprehend what is happening. I blink several times, part of me wanting to wake up from this nightmare, the other part of me so lost in Dean I could die at just the sight of him. The longer I look into his eyes, the more I realize just how fucking much I've missed him.

          "Come on," he then says, reaching out a welcoming hand. "Let's take a swim together. Just like old times, right?"

          I hesitate at first, my instincts telling me to stand my ground. Everything has been going downhill to this point, but just the thought of being closer with Dean makes my skin crawl with goosebumps. 

          "O-okay," I reply faintly.

          Before I know it, my legs are naturally leading towards him. Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could stop myself. The two of us are like magnets, pulling one another closer. The water is cool and calm just like I remember, but with Dean here it takes me to a whole new world. A whole new realm. I become so lost in the moment; everything else fades away.

          When our hands finally make contact—just the tips—I feel a shockwave of electricity flow through my body. But I'm not afraid of the feeling. I'm simply letting go of everything. Dean and I slowly get closer, embracing one another as he eventually wraps his arms around me. Our foreheads rest on one another—our hot, steamy breath radiating between the two of us until our lips are only millimetres apart.

          "I've been thinking about you a lot lately," he says.

          "I—I've been thinking about you, too." I can't help but admit it. I've been lying to myself far too long.

          "You're always on my mind, Jane. From the second I wake up, to the moment I fall asleep. Even in my dreams, you're there haunting me."

          "Oh, Dean baby," I whimper, feeling another hot tear trickle down my cheek. "God...I'm so scared."

          "I know." He gives me a kiss on my forehead, his soft lips making me quiver. "And that's why I've come to rescue you. You were always my little damsel in distress."

          We both laugh, taking a moment to ourselves as our lips graze over one another.

          "Do you trust me?" Dean asks.

          I nod my head. "Yes."

          "Good." He places his hand on my shoulder, tenderly guiding me to lay on my back. "I want you to come and float with me." 

          I nod again, letting him take control as my hair flows into the water. Dean places his right hand under my neck to keep me afloat, his other hand locked in between my fingertips as he stands over me.

          "I want you to close your eyes," he starts, "and I want you to let go of all your worries...all your expectations...all your doubts."

          I do as he says, feeling the tight muscles in my body gradually loosen. Dean is so gentle with me, like I'm a newborn baby as he cradles me in his arms.

          "And I want you to picture the two of us lost in a beautiful meadow. Think about the colourful flowers...the bright sun...the green grass." He pauses before continuing. "And let that feeling fill up your body."

          I do just that, and a warm rush passes through my body like I took a shot of heroin. It's so calm and peaceful. I'm content with everything surrounding me. Not even the slightest detail is bothersome.

          "Hold on to that feeling. Let it take you over with happiness so intense you can't even comprehend life itself." His fingers run through my wet hair.

          I feel so appreciated. This is literally how I want to die.

          Yet just like that, Dean whispers, "But you have to let go of that feeling." His hand slowly pulls away from mine. "You have to let go of me in general."

          I shake my head, sniffling back more tears. "I can't."

          "You have to," he insists, ripping away at my aching soul. "You need to move on."

          "But what if I don't want to?" I mourn as only our index fingers are connected at this point. "Please...just a little bit longer."

           Dean sighs. I can tell there's a part of him that wants to stay—a part that believes things will work out, but he refuses to open up that side of him.

          "It's time, Jane. When you open your eyes, I may not still be in your line of sight, but I will always be in your heart. Don't ever forget it."

          I feel his fingers evaporate through mine into thin air. I carefully open an eye, tears blinding me from the stars up above in the night sky. Just like Dean said, he's disappeared, and now I'm only left with three dead bodies—Shawn, Christina, and Oscar—casually floating around me in the watering hole. Though I don't scream or shout. In fact, I'm hardly even phased. Because it's time I tell the truth about Dean. 

          Alright, fine! I cheated on him, okay? With that pig of a man, Shawn. Whoop de fucking doo! It's not like I went out and murdered a bunch of innocent people. 

          But in the end, the only person that I killed was myself.

          I still remember it like yesterday. When Dean got down on one knee and asked me the famous four words: Will you marry me? I didn't even have to think about it for a split second. The word "yes" naturally came out of my mouth. I had tears literally streaming down my cheeks as he put the ring on my finger. A euphoria exploded inside me like I just popped three caps of ecstasy.

          By the next day, I was already shopping and planning things out. I had the most beautiful dress selected, which, not to sound arrogant, made me look adorable with my hair tied back. Last time I checked, we had over two-hundred people attending the wedding. Moms and dads, brothers and sisters, cousins and grandparents, friends and acquaintances—all so excited to see us. I was receiving call after call, people I didn't even know were part of my extended family, congratulating me and saying how proud they were. Not to mention our honeymoon to Vietnam was booked at this point—Hanoi to be more specific. Dean and I had been talking about the vacation for years, and now seemed like the perfect time. 

          Remember Brad and Cindy? The hippie couple we met in the bar, who I also had a flashback about when I was talking to Brad on the phone in my apartment in Seattle? They're not actually strangers. Brad was Dean's best friend from Portland where they both grew up together, and Cindy and I got along well and developed a deep friendship. Brad was going to be the best man at the wedding. They also planned to come on the honeymoon with us while their kids stayed back home with their grandma. I know it might sound kind of odd having friends join you on your honeymoon, but Brad and Cindy were our closest friends. There was so much positive hype leading up to the trip—us four venturing the other side of the globe together.

          Four days before the wedding, I got a call from two friends, explaining that, unfortunately, they had a conflict with school exams, and would not be able to attend the ceremony. I suggested that we get together and celebrate on our own terms with a fun night out. We decided on going to a nightclub. Just like everyone says, I went there with the intention of only having a few drinks, though not even the slickest of us can stick to that rule. Next thing I knew, for whatever reason, for whatever desire, I was downing beer after beer like an alcoholic.

          This is where I met Shawn, Oscar, and Christina. Keep in mind, I didn't actually know any of them before that night. No, Oscar is sadly not my brother, Christina is not my childhood best friend, and Shawn damn well isn't my boyfriend. They are complete strangers. But I envision them as my companions like they're characters in a book. I do this because I have so much guilt trapped inside me for what I did that night, that I can't admit the truth. All three of them played a role when I cheated on Dean.

          Shawn, obviously, was the one I cheated with. That slimy prick could've won an Academy Award he was such a great actor, yet there's no one to blame in the end but myself. He approached me just like any other guy would, asking me what my name was, and what kind of things I liked to do. He was very sweet, and my naive, drunk ass thought he was just trying to be friendly. And yes, I gave him consent when we left the club together later on, but he made damn well sure I was nice and liquored up before making a move.

          Oscar was Shawn's cousin. He was actually the one who first spotted me between the two, and explained to Shawn that I looked like an "easy fun time," and that he should try to get me back home. Oscar was fully aware that I was engaged by the time Shawn picked me up, but that wasn't a concern to him. He just wanted his cousin to get laid.

          Christina was the most innocent between the three, but still did her part. She was the bartender working that evening at the nightclub. Just before Shawn and I were about to dip out, manipulated by Oscar that we were together, she offered us a bottle of vodka for free. Actually, she insisted. With the way she was acting, I think it's possible she was coming down off some club drugs.          

          After my friends left, and after what was probably my seventh beer, I made the decision to get in a taxi cab with Shawn. I don't know what I was thinking. I was so fucked up I couldn't think straight. However, I may have been drunk, but I wasn't yet at the point where I was planning to sleep with Shawn. It was that bottle of vodka which Christina gave us that was the tipping point. After a couple shots of that, I was gone, and that's when I proceeded to make out with Shawn. The cab driver just laughed and said, "Damn! I wish I was still young."

          When we arrived at my apartment, I knew it was going to happen. I may sound clichè, but I swear, Dean claimed he was out of town for a business trip until he got back for the wedding. Either way, it didn't make what I was doing right. It was wrong on so many levels.

          At this point, I can only remember the story in spurts. I was on the verge of blacking out when Shawn began to pull down my jeans. After ripping each others' clothes off, we climbed under the quilts and it happened.          

          Dean then walked in with a bag of In-N-Out burgers—our favourite place to eat together as a couple. Apparently, the business trip got cancelled, and he had wanted to surprise me with a nice meal for the two of us, while we discussed the upcoming wedding. Instead, he found his fiancé in bed with someone she never met. My beautiful baby boy, Dean. The most gentle, kind man—who wouldn't even hurt a fly—started yelling the most horrible things at me. Threatening impulsively that he'd beat me until every single bone in my body was broken. That he was going to snap my neck like a plastic spoon with his own bare hands. I'd never heard such violent rage in someone's voice.

          "I'll kill you, Jane!  I'll fucking kill you!"

          It was at this time I passed out, spiralling into a nightmare of what Dean would do to me. He wouldn't lay a hand on me, would he? No, he wasn't that type of guy. 

          And I was right, Dean didn't do any of those cruel things he said he would. That was never his style. He was too smart to catch a court case over a thot like me. Because just like everybody does, I woke up the next morning. But I didn't wake up in my apartment. I didn't even wake up in Seattle. I woke up here...on this island. All four of us did—Christina, Shawn, Oscar—myself.

          But you see, they're the lucky ones. They get to eventually die. My suffering, however, is quite literally infinite. I physically cannot be deceased. I've tried everything imaginable to end my limitless pain. I've tried to drown myself out in the reef that surrounds the island; tried to jump off the ridge where I found the mirror Dean gave me; tried to starve myself until my ribcage is exposed. I've even gone as far as lighting myself on fire, praying that the scalding flames would burn away my wicked sins. But no matter what I do, or how hard I try, I always wake up back here, on RockFord Island.

          That's his middle name—Dean RockFord Jonhson, and that was his revenge. Instead of beating my ass, or going the typical guy route of slut-shaming me to all his friends, he sent us here. But you see, this didn't all just happen overnight. I've been on this island ever since the beginning of time. Before they had cars, before the cavemen, before the dinosaurs. Even before the earth itself formed into malt, crust, and lava. And I will still be here after the sun takes out our known planet like Armageddon, even trillions and trillions of light-years away into the future. In a galaxy within a galaxy WITHIN a galaxy. I cannot stress it enough. I will never...ever get off this island. Literally.

          I didn't know what Dean was capable of with his demonic "powers," who or what he is. And that goes for life in general. You never know what anyone is capable of—whether it be good, bad, or evil. That's why this Goddamn island is so gorgeous. Because Dean wants me to remember—for every hour, every minute, every second—just how beautiful it was what we could have had together. I now realize that the pain I feel every day, the horrid grief I experience, is equivalent to the despair he must have felt that night when he walked in and saw Shawn and me in bed together.

          But I still love you, Dean. Even though you hate me with everything inside your heart. Even though you've put me through more suffering than any human should have to endure. I still love you...and I will always love you. I wouldn't even think twice to go through all the pain in the world just to spend one more night with you. I would simply die for you. At the same time, I know that's not what you want any longer, and I'm sure you've moved on and found someone who deserves you. Someone who can treat you better than I ever did. And if that's the case, I mean this from the bottom of my soul: I'm happy for you.

          So remember to play your cards right in life, and to not stab people in the back who love and care for you—or you might just end up on RockFord Island with me.

          And so here I lay in the watering hole, floating on my back as the three dead bodies, Christina, Shawn, and Oscar, float around me. I embrace them, stretching my arms out as a smile creeps across my face. I begin to laugh. But not just any kind of laugh—deep, hysterical laughter, my lungs bellowing up with air as the sound travels throughout the jungle. This is my home; my destiny. This is the place I can always return to...RockFord Island.

          I guess they say true love is what kills you most.