"You've been out here for days." The voice rings out from behind me.

I shrug. "It's only been three."

"You can't blame yourself for Lyle's death." Robert presses on.

I aim another arrow at the tree. I shoot, and it hits the center. I aim and shoot again, hitting just above the arrow. I aim again, my fingers tremble and I miss the tree.

"I don't," I tell him, as I drop the bow, cradling my fingers in my hand.

I reach into my cloak, searching for more bandage, but I have none left.

"Robert, you're the medic, do you have bandages?" I ask.

He nods, ruffling through his own cloak. I quickly strip the bandages off my fingers, revealing the blood and blisters below.

"They won't get better until you stop shooting." He says, as he takes my hand, bandaging me up.

"Why is it any of your business, we barely talk." I say.

He squeezes my hands tighter and I wince. He smirks.

"Harry is worried about you, and Harry never shuts up, which makes everyone super bitter." He adds. "Specifically Alex."

"I didn't know you talked to the Old Geezer." Remembering the conversation I had with him.

He shrugs. "They've always hung around the Medic tent, and we do share a tent at night you know. They're great guys; just old fashioned."

I nod, trying to pull my hands from his, but he doesn't let go.

"You know, breaking your fingers isn't going to bring him back." He says. "It's not your fault he's dead."

"I know." I rip my hands out, moving back to the bow and firing another arrow. It stings but it hits just above the previous arrow. "It's my fault he's alive."

"Lyle's dead." Robert interjects, a puzzled expression across his face.

I shake my head. "No, Gregory."

Robert rolls his eyes, stepping back. "You know, if you are out here tomorrow, Alex said he'll come and break your fingers."

"You know, I'm not use to my doctor threatening to hurt me in order to help heal me." I say as I fire off my final arrow.

Robert snorts out his nose. "I play hardball. You don't seem in the mood to be convinced without the threat of force."

I drop the bow. My aim is much better now than before, but my fingers are twitching and cramping from all the pain.

"Whatever, let's just get back to camp."

I arrive at the clearing as dinner is served. I don't bother rushing for food; I ate earlier, I don't feel that hungry. Robert doesn't dash forward either, instead he is greeted by James, who hands him a plate of food.

"We have plates?" I ask.

Alex rolls his eyes. "You're such a New."

"And you're such an ass." I retort.

James whistles, slapping me on the back, as Robert chuckles.

"Plunter doesn't know what an ass is," Alex says. "It's a donkey."

He is so old. I don't bother arguing though. I can't get through to him.

They sit down closer to Jared's tent, which I assume belongs to these four. Most tents have six people; I wonder who the last one is. I don't care to ask.

A new boy will be coming in soon. One of the hammocks is empty.

I don't bother to stay; there's no food left and there is work to be done. Thankfully I ate a large breakfast and lunch. Those meals are the quietest, and emptiest of the day. Dinner is chaos.

I turn and walk away, heading towards the tent filled with clothes. I step inside, and the familiar smell of sweat and rot fills me. It's not as bad as it used to be.

The piles of clothes has only gotten bigger since everyone's death. Now, the cloaks are caked in blood and mud. I look down at my cloak, which is still soiled and disgusting. I shrug. It could be worse, at least I got Lyle's blood off.

"What are you doing here?" Devin asks sourly.

I shrug, crossing my arms. "You still on clothing duty."

He doesn't answer.

"I got taken off." I lie.

"I know you did." He says. "What, you think you would've gotten taken off without my hearing about it? Now the job is on Keaton and Gregory and I. They haven't showed up yet."

I snort. "You act like it's a bad thing. Not having them around is better than having them around."

He glares at me, but doesn't answer. Of course the work in the tent is tedious and repetitive, but at least those vile boys aren't here with him.

"Why are you even here?" I ask him. "What could you have possibly done?"

Once again, Devin chooses not to give me an answer. I roll my eyes, exiting the tent. Devin can have fun with Keaton and Gregory for all I care. He can rot in that tent with them, for all of time.

It's looking like they'll be here for that long.

I walk away from the tent, moving back into the forest. I find the spot I was before, picking the bow and arrow up from off the ground. I lift it up in my sore, calloused hands, and begin to fire.

My aim has gotten better in the past few days. I shoot, and hit the tree every time. Not dead on, and never in the same spot, but I hit it all the same.

What I really need is a target.

I begin to walk, away from the tree and towards the range where Keaton and Gregory were shot at. It takes a few minutes, and a bit of searching, but I arrive.

I shoot at one of the targets at the far end, hitting it on the fourth ring. I shoot again, and again, until I have no arrows left.

Fourth ring, Third ring, seventh ring, sixth ring, and fourth ring.

The majority of my arrows have been destroyed over the last few days. Now, I only have five that remain.

"You're getting better." Johnny is behind me.

I turn around, and flinch. He hasn't talked to me since I knocked him unconscious. He has a bruise around his eye, and his face is scratched up. Everything on his face seems to be healing over. It's funny how the body takes less time to heal then the mind does. Minds don't ever really heal.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to attack you." He says. "I should have listened to you. The boy, he didn't say a word about it."

"I know." I don't step back. "I knew then too. You attacked him, kidnapped him, attacked me."

"It was all for your safety. I didn't want to hurt you. I was trying to protect you. You forget, that boy, he had your life in his hands. He has your life in his hands. He can kill you, just like that." He snaps his fingers to prove the point.

"But he didn't." I tell him. "I'm safe here. I can fight for myself."

"You are stronger than anyone I have ever met." He says. "I believe in you more than I believe in anyone else. But that's part of the problem. You are in danger, not because you aren't strong, but because you are a girl. Have you forgotten that if you are discovered they will kill you?"

I want to say I haven't, but I have. I can't imagine living with my family back home, not after the violence and danger I've experienced here. I was fighting for my sister, but here, I'm fighting for my life. I forgot that going back to normal is better than being dead.

I have to win this bet with Pan.

"I have an idea, do you remember the conspiracy?" He asks.

I do. Dominique, and Fred, and a few others. They will never leave, but it will get Johnny off my back.

I nod. "Do it. It's what's best."

With that I walk away, not willing to listen to him or anymore of his bullshit.

I arrive back at camp. A hush rolls around. Everyone is done eating, and has retreated into their tents for the night.

The last few days have been long ones, and I doubt that is due to Pan's tampering with nature.

I'm so very tired. Exhaustion's spell has entrapped me, coating me in a thick layer of numb. Maybe that's what grief is.

I'm about to head to my tent, but decide against it. I leave the camp grounds, heading away from this mess.

My feet are like hammers, pounding against the earth, demanding it to stop beneath me. My feet are like bricks, heavy and not willing to move. I make my slow move to the graveyard, and it takes quite a while.

The forest may not be quiet, but it is calm. I breathe in and out, hoping simply for the calm to fill me.

Arriving at the gravesite was not exactly what I had expected it to be. I count the crosses above the tombstones. Fifteen. It had never occurred to me to actively count how many people that died.

That doesn't mean I forget them. Evan, Nicholas, Caleb, Samuel, Lyle, Jared. The final boy I never met. I didn't even know his name.

I've forgotten how many days I've been here. Seven boys, and I've been here less than fifty days. What a horrid number.

What strikes me odd, is that there are only fifteen graves. I remember Harry telling me he had seen two boys die before Evan. Alex has been here hundreds of years, and only six boys died during that time.

It makes me sick that six seems like a small number. Six people murdered, is such a small number. We have only about thirty people here. Neverland has a success rate of two in every three.

A third of the boys have died that stepped foot on this island.

Fifteen is a small number for hundreds of years' worth of fighting and danger and war. A third is not a small amount.

To be fair, in the real world, three in every three people die.

I step forward, moving closer and closer to Lyle's grave. I sit down, crossing my legs.

All the crosses look identical. It's not easy to tell them apart. This one is new, in a series of crosses that are new. I simply hope I'm sitting in front of his and not Samuel's.

I place my hands on my knees, deciding simply to assume this is Lyle's grave.

I breathe in, then out, slowly but surely.

I don't know if I will ever be able to fully get over Lyle's death.

I won't even think about Jared's. I'm not a masochist; I don't enjoy pain.

I breathe in again, then out.

Is it rude to breathe in front of the dead? Am I mocking them? Especially since I stripped Samuel of his life?

I stand up, glancing at the crosses one last time.

You will not be forgotten, so long as I live.

~~~~~~~~

Ooh, short and sweet. Poor Charlie is in mourning, and it makes me so sad. She's still stubborn and bitter, but at least a little sympathetic now.

Have you ever had a loved one die? How did it change your life?

As always, stay positive, and I will see you Friday.