Blood in the Cut- K. Flay

    The funeral is quickly being prepared for, as it seems everybody didn't want to wait around with rotting corpses hanging about.

    I dug one of the holes myself, ready to simply fill it with dirt and a goodbye. It seems as though we still are setting the bodies off on a large barge; a combined effort between a few of the boys I don't know.

    It doesn't seem as though we will be setting that barge on fire though. That would hit a little too close to home.

    One of the holes isn't deep enough, so I move over to it, shoving my shovel deep into the earth. The quicker we can get this funeral over with, the quicker I can stop thinking about it, and the quicker I can move on with my life. This isn't exactly how I planned on spending my final day here.

    Johnny's hand is on my shoulder, and I shove him off. He may not have done this with his hands, but he let this happen. Not red handed, but tainted. Dirty soul, for his dirty body and twisted mind. More like a maze than a boy.

    "Calm down," he soothes. "Go take a shower."

    "I'm calm." I argue, dropping the shovel. "I'm so very calm."

    "Listen, everyone is upset right now-"

    "Because of you." I spit. "You knew his would happen-"

    "Keep your voice down." He instructs, shushing me.

    No one is around. All the boys are off moving the bodies, or healing the injured, or mourning the dead. It's just him and I, and a graveyard. The wake of the Earthquake he left here. The field of corpses his existence has brought.

    "Why? Afraid the ghosts will come to haunt you?" I demand. "The ghost of the guard you murdered to free your friends of the cages? Or how about the ghost of the boy you murdered who was standing in the Weaponry when you robbed it? You're lucky Sam didn't manage to execute me, and you're lucky I didn't die in that fire, or that would be on your hands too."

    "I didn't kill the boy in the weapons tent..." He says.

    "Then your neglect to stop it did." I shout. "Did you even know his name?"

    "Did you?" He asks, crossing his arms. "And if we are talking about neglect, we should look at you. It's your fault Lyle died because you couldn't save him, same goes for Eric and Sam. Pan killed them when coming to rescue you, don't you remember? Little bitch who needs a boy to save her-

    "Out of line." My voice is stern, hard like a brick wall.

"-and what about Dominique, you didn't stop his suicide, so I guess that counts too. The boy who got maul by a tiger, you didn't stop that either. Maybe we should bring up all those bodies in the fire, because you knew Dominique was planning something too and you didn't stop it."

    "I didn't plot against any of my own people!" I shout. "Eric and Sam were self-defense and everyone else was murdered with no correlation to me at all."

    "You were there!" He shouts.

    "And so were you." I spit back, shoving him and walking off. "Don't ever talk to me again."

    He doesn't follow me, and for this I'm glad. Instead of wasting my energy trying to reason with a crazy boy, I can go talk to those who need me.

    When I arrive back at camp, nothing is fixed. The burnt tents remain just that, burnt. Pan will fix it all soon enough with his magic, but how soon I couldn't be sure.

    The Med tent and all its supplies burnt to the ground, so the remaining boys waddle around. Pan must have used magic, because the few with burns seem to have faded into scars. The tips of my hands are raw and pink, but probably only a first degree burn. Some of the other boys aren't so lucky.

    Another scream and my heart pumps and my feet lurch forward. It's not pain though, at least not physically.

    Robert stands on the edge of the forest, held by Harry tightly as James's body is being dragged towards the beach. He thrashes and screams, and I move forward, trying to hold his hands so he doesn't claw Harry.

    Eventually, Robert's feet turn to dust beneath his legs, as he gives into the sorrow. The lost life of a long-time friend is not a pain that you can dull away or ignore. Not like the life of someone you couldn't save, or of an acquaintance you watched brutally murdered. This is ten years' worth of trust and growing.

    Friendship on Neverland isn't like any other. Life or death aren't hypotheticals, and if you can't find someone chances are they are in danger.

    When James was attacked by Samuel, and Robert couldn't find him, I heard he was so upset. When Robert became ill, James wouldn't leave his side, not for even a second. Not even when it made him deathly ill. Though separate individuals, they are a unit. Were a unit.

    Harry consoles the crying boy on the ground.

    I wish James was here to console him.

    Alex emerges from the woods, nodding at me to follow him. I do so, only glancing back occasionally to spare glances at Harry and Robert.

    "Don't bring up Thomas with him." Alex says, as he walks further into the forest.

    "I wasn't going to." I follow after him. It's unfair Alex thinks I'm a complete idiot. "Not while he was comforting his friend."

    "I told him that Thomas had lost a heartbeat the previous night." Alex tells me. "I told him you were there."

    "But I wasn't-"

    "Don't be daft, I know that." Alex cuts me off. "But you're willing to lie to him for it, and Robert wouldn't."

    "Why, because it makes James's death look meaningless?" I demand. "James was trying to save Thomas."

    "As far as Harry knows, James was saving Max." Alex snaps. "Which actually gives more value to James's sacrifice because it has value to save a life than die failing. Besides, wouldn't you prefer to know your little brother passed away peacefully then burning to death, and that your friend died trying to save him?"

    I think back on my sister and my friend Alison. It's been so long since I'd seen the both of them. If I were in Harry's shoes, I think I'd prefer being lied to.

    "Aren't you the one who believes in hard truths?" I ask, stepping over a log. He has never lied to me before.

    "I'm not about to impose my beliefs on Harry though." He tells me.

    I guess that's fair.

    We stop when we are in front of Dominique's body. It's only been a few hours, but flies already are beginning to find their way to his corpse. His dark skin now pale, his body run cold. His blood has managed to dry in the heat.

    "Are we supposed to move the body?" I demand.

    He shakes his head. "I'm about to make Johnny do it."

    How fitting.

    He picks up the canteen, opening it and a light smell wafts out. I look inside, spotting a glowing blue mixture.

    "What the hell is this?" I demand, taking the canteen from his hands.

    "Since everyone else is busy, I thought you might help me figure it out."

    "You want my help?" I ask.

    "Please, you were last in line. Even after Keaton." He says.

    "Did you go looking for him, or did you already know he was dead?" I ask.

    I saw them pull out his body from the rubble of the tent Alex was in. It was his body, the disfigured one. The outline of who he once was scrapped off in charred skin. We only figured out it was him when he didn't show up again.

    Alex shrugs, but doesn't answer.

    I lower myself to the ground, crossing my legs. The inside of the canteen continues to glow brightly.

    "Did you try drinking it?" I ask.

    "It could be poison." He tells me.

    "Then why would he be carrying it in a canteen?" I chuckle. He calls me the idiot.

    "How else would you carry a liquid?" He counters.

    Touché.

    The colour almost swirls in the container, bright and beautiful. The flowers.

    "I know where it's from." I tell him. "These glowing flowers, on bushes, I saw him in the field."

    "When?" He asks. "Why didn't you stop him?"

    "He had his lackeys with him. It wouldn't have done anything except got me killed." I don't let it slip I saw him there yesterday. That would cause me problems. Since I didn't kill him then and there. Since his lackey was Johnny, my friend.

    "It's probably the dissap." He tells me, taking the canteen from my hands.

    He begins to walk back to camp, so I get up and follow him. "What's the dissap?"

    "The thing they didn't give you." He says. "I bet it's what made them disappear. Walela will know."

    Right, the Native girl. If its thing that made them disappear then it has nothing to do with the fire.

    "I saw him in the field yesterday." I tell him. I can't bear to hold in the secret.

    Alex sighs, openning his mouth than closing it several times. "If you had fought him, he'd have killed you. You're no match for him. You're lucky you didn't fight him, or else more people would be dead today. You saved people."

    Wow, a backhanded compliment from Alex? What has the world come to? "I could've taken him."

    He glares at me, then turns forward. "No, you wouldn't have."

    "It took his whole team to take you down." I say.

    He frowns. "Why do you ask so many questions?"

    "That wasn't a question."

    He turns his back to me, trudging forward. "No, Sam took down Harry all by himself; he got the jump on him, and Harry is an awful fighter. Dominique took me down all by himself."

    I'm lucky Dominique had killed himself instead of fighting me. If someone can take Alex down that easily, they are a force to be reckoned with. Like Johnny, only a few hits during the hunt and he had Alex and Harry taken down.

    I'm lucky Johnny won't actively hurt me.

    Someone screams up ahead, and Alex and I take off running.

    When we reach the camp, it's practically empty. Everyone must've headed of to the funeral. There are only three boys left, aside from Alex and me. A sigh to see, one that makes my hands twitch shut. In the rubble of a home that was once whole, I watch as my metaphorical home is about to be destroyed. My friends, more like brothers than strangers.

    Alex drops the canteen, as his knuckles turn white. The liquid pools out on to the ground, soaking into the mud. Our only hope of finding out was else Dominique had in store absorbed by the sponge that is the ground.

I can hear Alex's breath, and it's heavy.

    I can also hear my own heart pounding in my chest.

    Robert is on the ground, and I can only hope he's unconscious and not dead. No blood, which is actually what scares me. I move to help him but Alex holds me back. His body is too close to Gregory.

    If I move for him, Gregory will slice open Harry's neck. The boy seems to be fading in and out of consciousness as it is. His arms and legs bleeding and bruised, and his legs struggling to touch the ground.

    "I was wondering when you'd come out of the forest." Gregory laughs.

    "What's going on?" I ask. "Why are you doing this, on a day of mourning?"

    "Keaton," Harry voice wiggles out of his mouth, before Gregory takes the hilt of the knife and bashing him on the head.

    Blood trickles slowly down, moving on to Gregory's hands.

    "What has this got to do with Keaton?" I ask.

    "Charlie shut your mouth," Alex spits.

    I'm about to protest but Alex glares me down.

    "You want him?" Alex asks. "You want me."

    "I saw what you did." Gregory said. "You stabbed him to death. You killed him."

    Alex killed Keaton?

    "You want me." Alex continues.

Thinking back on it, the pieces fall into place. Alex was so unhappy with Keaton, he wanted him to die, but every time Devin so much as laid a finger on the boy, Alex would tell him off. He was waiting for the right moment to strike.

    Not action or inaction, but searching for the right moment.

    I can't say I'm surprised, or that I'm all that choked up about it, but I can say that it perhaps wasn't a good idea to spare Gregory.

    "You don't want Harry," I say. "You want him."

    Gregory shoves Harry aside on to the ground, stepping forward. I jump in, moving to pick Harry up, but Gregory's meaty hands lift me than slam me into the ground.

    "You can't take me," Gregory says, "it's me versus Alex."

    "That wasn't-"

    He kicks me again, in the stomach, and I don't move except to bring my hands to my stomach.

    Alex continues to stand, watching.

    He moves forward, before hitting Gregory on the head. Gregory reels out the knife and stabs Alex.

    Tumbling, fumbling, landing on the ground next to me.

    My feet find their way up beneath me, than I grab hold of him. Harry shoves me off, pulling out the knife.

    "A revenge kill?" Pan's voice rings out, more like a mock surprise than a question.

    Gregory looks to Pan. "You knew."

    Their voices blur together as I watch Harry pull Alex up, holding him tight. He can't help, not without Robert. I move to Robert and try to wake him up. He has a heartbeat, but even if I do wake him up I doubt he'd be much of a help.

    He's a blubbering mess without James.

    Harry applies pressure, ripping off part of Alex's shit and wrapping it around the cut. We don't even have proper medical supplies.

    Alex's breath is uneven, and I know he's not going to give Gregory the satisfaction of hearing him cry out in pain.

    The blood on the knife doesn't travel all that far up the blade. Maybe an inch? And what part of that was caused from slicing Harry all over his body? It couldn't have gone deep. Now, I'm not a doctor, and I know how dangerous stab wounds are, but I'm sure he'll be fine.

    I turn to Pan. "Heal him."

    Harry yells in the background, talking to Alex, cradling him.

    "I don't heal people from wounds they receive as punishment."

    I think back to the day I shot Gregory with an arrow, and when Keaton was shot by Alex. The arrows couldn't have been imbedded deeper than this, could they?

    "Take them to your house, so Harry can do it then." I say.

    He looks at me with a puzzled look on his face, before smirking. "And what do I get out of it?"

    Everything is always about him isn't it? "I'll extend your deadline until sunrise, not sunset."

    He grins before he disappears in front of me. I spin on my heels, only to discover Harry and Alex have disappeared too.

    "What did you just do?" Gregory screams, lifting me into the air.

    His other hand grabs my throat, and suddenly I can't breathe. I kick, as my lungs feel like they are collapsing.

    He holds me farther away from his body, before slamming me against the ground.

    I feel so, so dizzy.

    "I'd rather watch you get your head bashed in then watch you choked to death." He leans over again, grabbing me by the throat and lifting me up again.

    Lyle.

    "Although choking is so very fun." He laughs.

    My vision begins to turn black, and my fingers prickle all over. I feel like I'm been squeezed shut, or slowly turned off. It feels like I'm an air mattress being deflated slowly.

    He slams me down again, and the bitter metallic taste of blood pours down my mouth and onto my chin. I hear a boy shouting, buzzing in my ear.

    "Look at that, we have a crowd." He lifts me again, before chucking me like a rag doll.

    I don't dare open my eyes again, out of fear that my vision is entirely black. People can go blind from being hit too hard, right? I hope not.

    Another hit doesn't come, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm dying and have lost the feeling in my body, or if I'm already dead.

~~~~~~