"The Lord of the Flies grins at me like he was aware of our chaos and divide -- How our system was destructed due the the evil of mankind."

𝐀 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

Tears leave a glistening residue on my cheeks, and drip onto my wrist in a light pitter-patter. I ponder my memories as I study the rose quartz in my hand. It's not smooth, but not rough on its edges either. Now I realize that I can't ever lose this item again. It's precious. The last remnant I have of my good friend.

When the event took place last night, Ralph insisted that we let the ocean take him. At first, I thought it was a sick way to dispose of a body. But now, I envy it, and I'm happy that he's not stuck here. He's free from this hell-hole. Simon doesn't deserve a shallow grave on the same island he was killed on. Jack comes to mind, and I shake with seething hateful energy each time. Technically, I know it was an accident. I can understand it. But- the way that they get so... caught up in killing is getting crazy. They've been losing their minds. The hyperfixation gets so intense that it blinds them to reality. That's not normal, and it's only going to escalate from here if we don't get rescued soon.

Ralph, Eric, Piggy, and I all sit in a row, aimlessly facing the ocean in silence, but me and Ralph are the only ones shedding tears this morning. The image is still clear as day; the frothy tide claiming Simon to it's depths, a place for rest. I screamed, and I sobbed for the innocence we would lose without him. Another crack claims its place on our humanity. Opposing to our demonizing mood, the sky is blue as ever. I almost want to scream at it for being so cheerful at a time like this. How dare it be so happy. It should be equally grieving with us.

Shutting my eyes, a film almost played out in front of my brain; meeting Simon on the plane.

"My name is Simon," he introduced himself. "What's your name?"

"It's Veronica... Sawyer." I added my last name as an afterthought.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Veronica Sawyer." Simon turned back to his drawing. I listened to the faint scratching of his pencil as he etched marks onto paper.

A faint smile crossed my face at the memory.

Details on the sketch were carfully thought out with specific realism and precision that I couldn't fathom how people simply were capable of doing that. The tree had crooked branches that shot out from the trunk, spiraling in random directions and criss-crossed over eachother. Leaves were in different shades of gray since all he had to work with was a simple #2 pencil.

"So, where are you guys headed?" I asked nonchalantly to make small talk. Being someone who hated small talk, I surprised myself. A thoughtful expression painted itself across his face like splashes of watered down ink before answering.

"Well, I'm sure you can tell that we all attend the same boarding school. It's a school trip, so hopefully it's fun!"

Even now, Simon just doesn't strike me as a military school student. I don't even know the reason he was sent there... While he didn't maintain the same builds as Jack and Ralph, nor the drive that would make him fight his way to the top -- he had kindess; A trait that many of the boys lacked so hopelessly. A hiccup jerked my chest, but I sniffled and wiped my face. Still staring out to the abyss of an ocean, I think of another memory while feeling the rose quartz in hand.

I wandered into a small clearing in the woods that was lined with trees after what felt like hours of walking. In reality, I was probably walking for thirty minutes. Sunlight poured in, filling the area. Looking around, seeing different assortments of flowers growing, I came to notice a boy sitting there on a log. It's -- Simon? It seemed as if he were in some sort of trance or zone.

The day I learned about the spot in the forest...

I call out to him softly, trying not to startle the boy. His eyes peak open a bit. Apon noticing me, he jumps.

"Veronica? How did you find this place?" he looked a bit surprised, if not concerned.

"Uhm, I honestly don't know." I admitted helplessly. "I was just walking. I was walking and walking, and I didn't stop." He slowly nodded his head. The little chameleon perched on his shoulder like a teacup atop a little plate.

"This place...it's beautiful," I said, feeling quite astonished that he came across it, yet chose to keep it to himself. He nodded slowly and smiled, scanning over the area with his green-blue eyes.

"I come here whenever I need peace and quiet. It helps me think. It's quite relaxing." Realization fell over me.

"Ohhh, so this is where you go when you're not with Captain Benson," I breathe my words out. He shrugged shyly, and his face flushed.

"I can't blame you." I lowered on to a rock next to him.

Simon and I always had the deeper conversations there, and he was okay with me ranting whenever I wanted. Even then, I tried to avoid trauma dumping. Sometimes, I would cry when the stress that this island plagues me with grew unbearable. He could so effortlessly console me.

"You've come this far, Veronica. Don't give in now," he said softly. I let out a small laugh.

"You're right, Simon. I've always been a dead girl walking whenever I turn around." I lift a cheek, half heartedly smiling at him. Simon let out a chuckle as well. Taking a deep breath, I tried composing myself.

"I could really go for a big bowl of spaghetti, lots of oregano," I muttered, thinking for another moment. Oh-

"And add a cherry slushie." I think about the 7/11 that I had my first job at. Before then, me and JD always had our slushies together on the curb outside of the store. Then the liquorice...

"I could go for some Oreos and milk right about now," Simon hummed. "We couldn't get those at Valley Forge, though." He explained reasonably.

"Whenever I got to go visit my mom, we would sit on our porch with a stereo playing, and eat Oreos. I miss my mom." Simon sighed at the thought.

"But that's all back home. Everything. Everything is back home." The emotions returned unexpectedly, catching me by surprise.

"It's gonna be ok, Veronica. You will get off this island. You'll get back all right. You all will." I took in the weight of his phrase.

"Don't make promises you can't keep. It isn't polite," I whisper gently. He never gave a response. We both jump as we hear the conch being blown. Groaning in unison, we get up and start jogging to the source of the sound.

Who would have thought that my words could be such an unintentional omen? The pad of my thumb started to hurt by the constant rubbing on the stone. Not stopping, I just stared aimlessly while Ralph let out the occasional sob.

After Roger shamelessly killed his chameleon, I spotted Simon few yards away. He was kneeling down, crying softly while cupping the small lizard in his hands as if he were cradling it. I placed a comforting hand on his bony shoulder. I'm not the best at offering condolences, I never have been.

"I'm so sorry, Simon." I murmured. "What he did was messed up." He nodded his head while sniffling, and looked over his shoulder, peering up at me with wet eyes.

"Can we bury him? He needs to be able to rest in peace." Sighing, I swallowed my wit and nodded. "Of course. I'll help you."

I turned to Ralph, utterly drained. His face is puffy from the constant tears. Piggy traced meaningless shapes in the sand, seemingly level-headed.

"What're we gonna do?" The chief groaned, holding his head in his hands. Tears pricked at my eyes like a seething venom that eggs me to break the floodgates open again. However, I resisted the sensation, and bit a sob that boiled in my throat so heavily.

"Piggy..." He attempted to take the attention of the boy who looks for the most part, unbothered. Shock, maybe? 

"That was Simon." His voice is hoarse.

The simple phrase makes my heart leap. Leaping so it could plummet into my gut with a thud. This whole thing feels like a constant stab, and no matter how much you try to take the knife out, it doesn't pull out gently. So someone else has to take the initiative to rip it out, leaving an open wound that profusely bleeds your energy and stamina.

"What good are you doing in talking about it?" Piggy tries to reason. I try to look at him, but my eyes always get pulled to the huge crack in his glasses. "It was dark, and we were scared," he points out, still managing to stay sensative in his words.

"I wasn't scared," Ralph denies, vigorously shaking his head. A few brown curls tickled his forehead.

"You were scared." The other boy persists, finally dropping the handful of sand on top of his shapes.

"Both of you were scared. So were you, Eric." Piggy diverts his attention to the unusually silent twin. Eric lifts his head, unveiling bloodshot eyes. After all, his own brother participated in the accidental murder of our friend and his classmate. Guilt undeservedly picks at him in a feverish reign.

"You guys..." Piggy slowly starts, facing us once more. "Anything could've happened." Ralph ignores the words, and gazes back out to the ocean. In a spontaneous yearn for comfort, I relax my head onto his trembling shoulder, and he leans into me with equal need.

"It wasn't our fault." Eric states softly, dropping his own words in. 

"It was!" The chief snaps in a burst of frustration. We all flinch back.

"We were all there, on the other side, and we didn't do anything about it."

"There's nothing we could do, there were too many of them!" Piggy explains practically. The attempt at calming us down was appreciated, but daringly aggravating.

"That's not the point!" I sob, covering my face. Piggy bites back his words, and sadness finally crosses his red face. 

"It was an accident," Eric mumbles. "That's what it was... A horrible accident."

"Anything could've happened," repeats Piggy like a broken record. Ralph and I both continue the mourning period as the images of my late friend pick away. The way the surrounding area of his body was a chaotic mess of splattered blood and fleshy debris. The silence that had followed after- accompanied by the dripping of tears and blood, a morbid cadence that echoed through stillness. 

As if the situation can't be more unbearable, two hunters walk around the corner of a fallen tree. And joy of joys, it's Tony and Sam. I'm starting to think that Sam purposely volunteers himself to speak with Ralph only so he can see Eric. If they hate each other so much, then Sam would avoid any interaction with us at all costs.

The chief, of now only a few people, looks surprised -- even a bit hopeful. At this point, I don't at all reckon that they were here to apologize or even join our side again. And as per usual, I'm right.

Sam crosses his arms, not in challenge or defense, but in- embarrassment? Almost like he's sinking back into his shell, and he stands somewhat behind Tony to hide his face. On developed instinct, I go to see Eric's facial expression. He looks drained, not up for a fight one bit. In this moment, for the first time in what feels like forever, the twins can be standing within a ten foot radius of each other and actually stay civil.

"Hi," the painted twin silently greets. He almost had to cough it out to even force himself to speak to us after the event. 

"Hi," Piggy flatly answers for us all. Both hunters, carrying some guilt, keep their focus on the ground, avoiding to look at the clearly grieving folks. Hell, it's even hard for me to look at them.

"We came to see if you guys have any fire," Tony admits through a cracking voice. His tone became all the more brassy after a long night of constant yelling and chanting. 

"Ours is out," Sam speaks up again, catching my weak focus. "Everything is out, on account of the storm."

Swallowing the hurt in my throat, I briskly look at Ralph for his answer to them. Even he appears all too broken to process or even think clearly. Both hunters shift uncomfortably under our grinding stares, and not even three seconds later, they try to hurry off after breaking under pressure.

"We gotta get back," Sam strains under his breath, still keeping his arms crossed. On a unified cue, they start walking away. I don't plan on stopping them, and I don't reckon that they think so either. Defying all odds, Ralph musters up the will to call them both back.

"Hold on a minute."

The two boys snap their heads to us into what's possibly some sort of fear. Maybe they just know what conversation is about to come up after they'd been scraping to avoid it this whole time.

"I wanna talk to you about last night."

The icy ball was dropped, and the words hang heavily in the air like wet paint... Dripping in the silent anticipation.

"Raaalph..." Piggy groans in what was almost disappointment in the boy for bringing the situation up. Despite that, both of the hunters' personas change drastically, their stances showing much more discomfort than before. I find myself feeling bad for them.

"We left early," Sam stumbles over his lie. I know it's a lie, because he's in my memory. There's me, crying over a body of mutilated flesh while he stands, frozen in time from enduring so much shock at once.

"Umm, we were real tired," Tony unconvincingly adds, then gulping his shame. Eric mumbles something like, whatever. Ralph blinks rapidly for a moment. Without a word, the hunters awkwardly shuffle back a few steps, and walk away, fully understanding they won't get fire from us right now. 

If any of the other hunters were here, they'd probably use force to take what they wanted. But in their understanding and empathy, the two leave without a fuss. I'm grateful for that. Eric's head droops into his hands once more so he can spiral into some of his own contemplation.

"Ralph?" I ask softly. "Are you sure we didn't die in that plane crash?" 

The boy looks at me, perplexed, making me lower my head.

"What are you talking about?"

"Are we already dead?" Even if he took it as a joke, I was seriously questioning myself if I took it as so, too. 

"Like... is this just Hell?"

He cracks a small half smile. 

"If so, we'd be in purgatory. And you can't die twice, so Simon would still be here."

Simon.

Maybe Ralph is right, or maybe dying is just the way to make it out of purgatory. Maybe dying in this realm is the way to fully cross over to the true afterlife.

I clutch my rose quartz a bit tighter. Who is there to talk to when things get rough? Who is there to provide kindness to all, even Jack's tribe?

"I'm going for a walk," I announce promptly, and rise up with a huff. Clearing my head is the best thing I can really do for myself anymore.

"Don't be gone too long," Ralph mumbles his response. Forcing a smile, I give one small salute before retreating into the jungle.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

When I decided I was going to go for a walk, I guess I really meant I wanted to sit in solace in a place that I'm always calm in. No offense, but the gloomy atmosphere with the others only edged the sadness back. So to this spot in the forest I go. Simon's spot.

It was always like a hug of green and brown, carpeted by moist moss, taking on a seaweed color after the shower of rain. A shelter of branches extended, crooked tree limbs protect me from the sun.

Walking into the area, a heavier weight seems to plague the clearing. An unfamiliar sensation. Everything looks the same, but the feeling is off, like forcing a piece of a puzzle into a place that it doesn't belong. Or like wearing a shoe on the wrong foot. Butterflies aren't here to dance in the buttery sunshine. Song birds no longer frolic like it's the last safe haven on this Hell disguised as paradise. Huge rays of light spill in the clearing, but they aren't filling up the negative ambiance which I'm not accustomed to here.

Bark is still torn away from some trees as a result of long past storms. I crane my head back, searching for something of familiarity. Twinkles of light illuminate my features, and catch the tears dripping off the edge of my jawline, which has sharpened considerably during my time on the island due to the lack of nutrition.

My feet sunk into the stretch of vibrant grass that greeted me, but the steps weren't as light as usual. Buzzing my lips, I called out "Simon?"

By some crazy coincidence, the breeze picks up, and the warm feeling which this spot used to own flashes on like a switch until the breeze ends, and the atmosphere marinates in heaviness. Stupid girl, it's all in your head. I rise back up to my feet when a movement catches my eyes. My footsteps gravitate towards it absentmindedly, now on autopilot.

Perched on the lower branch of a tree, was a small chameleon. A feeling in my gut unfurled and I forcefully tore myself away from the familiar sight, sobbing out my deepest heartache. With a freeing exhale, I fall back into a mattress of grass which cushions my fall, resting along the cast of the amber-green foliage.

Laying alone in my isolation, I weep. Weeping out the deepest sorrow that life could throw at me. I weep for Heather, for JD, for Simon... Life's darkness wants to pull me to a place where joy is scarce, or an impossibility, if you will. With great sharp claws, it drags me through the muck of guilt. Being as familiar as I am with death, it is clear to all that death is not an exquisite subject. It's not something that you can effortlessly muse over at the dinner table. Some people avoid it as best they can. If there is an afterlife by some mere miracle, Simon is surely there. If there isn't an afterlife, then the coldness of death claimed him in the worst way possible.

Desperately pushing away the grotesque details of the gruesome event, I let my mind drift across the great sea of memories, of life, of time... My mind is begging to be free of this violent plague.

"You know, lots of people think that butterflies symbolize hope and endurance." Simon explained. Of course, my mother had told me that. When my aunt died, we always associated her with butterflies. For a Christmas one year, I bought my mother a wind chime with metal butterflies dangling from it. She cried when receiving the gift.

"Others think they symbolize freedom." I added. Simon picked up a small stone, feeling it's ridges. "I feel really free here," he said.

I chuckled knowingly and respond, "Maybe we're a bit too free here," subtly addressing the ordeal with Jack. We both start strolling through the jungle-forest and approach the rocky cliff that Jack and I had discovered long before.

A gust of wind bursts over to fan our faces. The sensation made me want to cry in an odd way, just out of stress

Now, all I want to do is cry. Great heaving sobs that will wrack my core with waves of aftershock. I'm done with everything. Staring up at the blue abyss where the sun hangs like a prop, an instinct picks away at me, and I follow suit. My hand holds the rose quartz out in front of my face, and as I moved it across my line of vision, the stone eclipses over the bright eye staring down at us which keeps Earth going. And for a split moment, I can almost see Simon in the harsh glare of light as the quartz swims through the endless blue above me. He's smiling while walking that thin line between the clouds and outerspace. No blood, and unwounded.

A smile paints across my cherry lips while tears flourish down my rosy cheeks. The light catches the semi-illuminated wet trails. I clutch the rose quartz in my palm and hold it close to my heart. I'm so sorry, Simon. I'll never forget everything you are. Because I knew you, I've been changed for good. Tears trickle down my cheekbones and directly to my ears, being pulled by gravity as I lay flat on my back.

A breath exhales through my parted lips, steady and controlled. I mumble under my breath, mother's favorite song. The song we always sang together on an average day.

"When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?
Here's what she said to me..."

I have to chuckle at the stupid fucking irony. Mother always said I would grow up and go to my dream college, and I'd succeed in all my dreams. Never did I expect this.

"Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be.
The future's not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be."

The only disruption that breaks my tranquility -- no, not break -- pauses the tranquility makes me sit up and look to the new pair of footsteps coming hesitantly my way. I actually half expect to see Simon, but it's only Eric. He has a solemn but curious expression. Recovering from the small startle, I clear my throat to greet him.

"Hi."

"Uh- hey..." He grunts cautiously, stopping in his spot. Catching on, I soften my confused expression that he probably mistook for anger. I wipe away my tears and stand, inviting him to sit on the rocks with me. He watches me warily for a moment, not budging.

"I just- saw you go this direction, and- Piggy was kinda annoying me, so..." The wind picks up and carries his words away, but I nod in understanding.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything," he addresses my recent state of laying on my back, crying while staring at the clouds. Setting the rose quartz on my lap, I clear my throat for a second time before answering.

"You weren't interrupting me."

Moments like these really make it clear how much this Island has affected us all. Sam and Eric, twins who used to be so full of energy and spunk are now departed, and being squished by a certain weariness that hangs above them both. Eric has become so drained.

His bright, smiling face has dulled significantly, and dark circles bloomed under his eyes. I remembered that we used to call them Samneric, like one entity, because of the way they'd sometimes speak and grin in unison. They were always connected by the hip and blabbering over each other. What even happened?

Part of the reason they were called Samneric, is because their parents always used the smoothly spoken nickname. Even in school, their classmates and teachers would address them by it, so it still carried here on the island.

I loudly sniffle as a last-ditch attempt to clear the painful silence, but it only makes the awkwardness thicken up as he stands anxiously, seemingly unsure of himself.

"You can come sit," I finally blurt, giving the offer again. I nod to the blank spot next to me. Simon's spot. A look of surprise lights his dull face, but he does shuffle forward to take a seat, though not too close.

"How've you been, Eric?"

"I wanna go home." He folded his knees to his chest. Clasping my two hands together, I nodded in earnest agreement.

"I know. We'll get rescued soon, don't worry."

"I sure hope so," he answers. A pause follows as his face tenses up like he's trying to cobble together some composure, and to also hide the tremble that vibrates in his words.

"Sam was there when Simon..."

I don't have to be a genius to know what he's referring to.

"Yeah, I know." My eyes peer down at my pink stone. 

"He's probably really torn up about it," I add quickly. "You guys were friends with him, right?"

He shrugs in thought. "I guess, but Simon usually kept to himself in school. After we crashed, he only talked to you and Ralph for the most part."

This was true. Simon did interact with Piggy on occasion, or the little ones when he'd get them fruits while 'babysitting'.

"But also, someone literally died last night, Veronica." Eric emphasizes seriously, widening his eyes like he was about to cry. "In front of all of us."

That alone is enough to tear someone up, even if they weren't that close.

I coil my arms around my stomach when the scene replays in my head. The metallic sent left an imprint in my nostrils that I can't seem to rid.

"Gosh..." The twin groans while pressing a fist to his lips. He's clearly also replaying that memory. 

"There was so much blood." There's an audible gag in his words like it repulsed him. Eric's lip takes on a faint quiver as he fights off his emotions. Paleness clouds his cheeks like he's seen a ghost. To distract him from his own mind, I pull the easiest conversation I can.

"You know, me and Simon always came to this exact spot."

He peers up at me quickly and the paleness flushes away. 

"Really?" 

I nod, lifting a cheek. "Yup. Me and him would just sit and talk here for hours. It's beautiful, huh?"

Taking a quick gander at the place, Eric agrees and smiles softly. Relieved to know that his mood increased a bit for the better, I can relax as well.

"What was it like?" He asks curiously. "Getting to know him, n' all?" 

It all comes back like it did before. Boarding the plane, landing here, finding this spot, watching Captain Benson. He was more wise than I could ever be.

"Eric, I can easily tell you that Simon was the kindest, most intelligent person I've met in all 18 years of living."

His eyebrows raise, like it surprises him. Most of the students assumed he was always aloof, crazy of sorts. That's how lots of boys are. Not going to lie, girls can think the same way. It's just the way humanity bats its eye towards certain things. Eric hums in thought for a second.

"I just wish I could have gotten to know him better, you know? While he was still here."

I only nod in understanding, not wanting to interrupt the sprouting words.

"It's just weird. Cuz, like- he's always been there, in the background, and now he's just... gone." The twin looks at his hands, then his clothes. Everyone's clothes have become so tattered and stained by dirt. Now for some, they're stained by blood.

"I understand," I reply thoughtfully, wishing I could think of a deep response like Simon. 

"How are you feeling?" These are kids, and they all had to witness something so bloodcurdling, so... traumatizing. I'm no therapist, but bringing their emotions into account is essential. He buzzed his lips, as if unraveling that question to answer it took the same amount of drive as skydiving.

"I don't know," Eric sighs truthfully. "I just wanted to talk to someone about anything else." A heavy sigh huffs from his chest.

"Ralph and Piggy just aren't the people to talk to right now." I say in agreement with him. "They're a wreck right now. Then again, so am I." A small laugh emits through the heck of it all.

"Maybe you are," He adds on, trying to force a chuckle. "But you seem like you know how to handle it?"

I purse my lips to consider a response. "Well, yeah. I'm kinda used to this sort of thing, as bad as it sounds. I had to handle my emotions elsewhere without any influence."

Eric leans back a bit, almost nervous. "Am I influencing anything right now?"

"No, of course not." I shake my head vigorously and back track.

"It was just getting kinda emotion-heavy over there, and I wanted to just let mine out in another place." I finalize my statement there to keep from over-spilling. He eyes me another moment before relenting.

Before my next question, I think about its impact tediously. Whatever, it's necessary. 

"Well, is Sam... okay?"

About ten emotions linger on his face to an expression that is unreadable. Finally, upon noticing my seriousness, it prompts him to laugh bitterly.

"You do realize that he was in that crowd, right? Did you forget?"

For me, it even feels like a punch to the gut to hear that. I'm not sure why, because it's not a direct attack on me. Bitterness was laced in his tone, like he wouldn't be letting this go by so easily.

"No, yeah, I understand," I stutter out, sounding more bewildered than intended. 

"It's just that, I dunno, maybe he was super caught up."

"Why are you defending him for murder?" Eric cuts me off, scowling. In the awkwardness, I clutch my rose quartz.

"I'm not defending it at all. I think it's Roger and Jack who are more to blame," I say truthfully. To help the twin further understand, I explained my thought process.

"Jack and Roger are the ones who led them. And even if they knew it was Simon all along, Sam didn't know."

The despise in Eric's eyes soften down to a smoke but he continues to stare at me incredulously. "That's true, I guess," he shrugs. "I wish me and him were still friends sometimes."

He stops again, hesitating like he was debating a thought. "I miss Sam."

I frown a bit. They don't even remember what the initial fight was about. 

"Why don't you apologize for your doing, and he can apologize for himself. He's clearly not gonna take the initiative, so you can be the bigger person."

Eric acts like I requested him to do the impossible, and his head just snaps side to side. "Why should I apologize to him? He's a dork and he's mean."

Raising a brow, I gave him a look as if to say, 'C'mon now...'

"You guys are both in the wrong," I insist, not waiting to see how he'd feel about the daringly risky statement. "Sam has probably been the more intense one in the situation, but you both are making such personal attacks that neither of you are in the right at this point."

The twin takes it better than I first assumed, like it somewhat got through to him. 

"I guess. But he's with the hunters now, he doesn't need me."

I nudge his arm a bit, trying to get him a bit more hyped up. 

"Sure he does! And do you wanna know what I think?"

He peers to meet my eyes, looking annoyed but intrigued. 

"What is it?"

"Haven't you noticed him always coming over here when Jack wants to send a message? Why do you think that is?"

Eric scrunches his face, and his eyes dance around towards the sky before answering. 

"I think it's cuz he wants to be a dork and pick fights."

This prompts me to giggle and shake my head. 

"No, silly. Someone who really hates you isn't gonna put that much effort into starting a single argument." I reason logically. He cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"I think that it's just his excuse of still checking on you, to make sure you're okay and all."

"Shit. I didn't realize that him beating me up was a way to check on me," He replies sarcastically while rolling his eyes. My small smile fell.

"You're right," I nod to show I understand. "But, I think he's starting to get tired of this whole fight, and I think you are too, but you don't want to admit it."

Looking offended that he's being called out, he finally calmed down so he could take my words into consideration without agreeing with me upfront.

"I don't think he'll ever talk to me now. Roger doesn't like me." Eric buzzes somberly. 

"He says stuff to Sam about me to make sure my brother keeps hating me."

My jaw clenches angrily at the mention of Roger, but I keep my face clear of any malice emotions.

"And even though me and my brother are like- hating each other right now, I still get worried."

Eric turns to look at me seriously. 

"Roger is kinda a douche. He'll slap the hunters around for fun and hurt them. He couldn't get away with that sort of 'abuse' at the academy."

The boy frowns and turns back away from me. Still, my eyes were glued to him. More serious now as I felt an anxious rumble of concern dwelling in my bones.

"You're worried that he's hurt Sam." I finish for him. "Or that he will soon."

Eric nods wordlessly. I purse my lips in thought and drum my fingernails against the stone. I'm sure that the twins would've most definitely made up but now if it weren't for the interference of Roger.

"Also," he speaks up quietly. "I know it was Roger who did the glass thing." His words deliver low. They're even harder to hear in this muted area. I blink at him, trying to muster up some response.

"I kinda caught on after a while," he explains, wavering side to side. "Roger's a... I don't know." 

The twin droops his shoulders in defeat. "I just wanna talk to Sam again. Roger will make sure that it never happens."

This whole situation makes my skin crawl. What kick does Roger get out of this? It's creepy that he would out of the blue take on such an unearned 'Big brother' stance for Sam. There's certainly some motive. In hindsight, he shouldn't have a definitive interest in filling that void. It's just so... so random. Why the twins?

"Just talk to Sam, Eric," I say flatly. 

"As for Roger, I'll handle it."

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll handle it. I'll figure something out."

A breeze picks up to rush by us, and I welcomed it with open arms.

"Soooo... what do I do?" Eric asks. I turn to face him more before explaining. 

"Just- next time you see him, tell him you're sorry and it'll all sprout from there." I paused to think, then adding in an afterthought. "I mean, I dunno when that next time will be, but take a chance if you get one."

"Okay," he agrees, slowly nodding. "Yeah, okay. But if he ends up yelling at me, I'm done trying." 

I grin and pat the top of his hand. This whole conversation was a good distraction from the earlier chaos. Of course, we'd all have the residual sadness -- it's expected, but we have to cope instead of letting grief kill us.

"I don't think he'll let me talk if I just come up to him, though," he rests his chin on his palm in semi-defeat. A thought clicks in my head, a risky one.

"I'll figure something out," I show a soft smile of reassurance.

"Thanks," he chips simply, and hops up from the rock. Not quite ready to leave, I fold my legs up and wave him off as he begins walking. 

"One more thing," he stops in his tracks and swivels to look at me.

"Veronica, I'm sorry about Simon." Saying nothing else, he turns around and walks out of the clearing, leaving me stunned. In my state, I lay back to look at the sky, rubbing the quartz in my hand.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Curiosity is what killed the cat, that's what they always say. Well, it's time for me to put that phrase to the test for upfront judgment. Let's face it head on; the cave. The cave that peeled Simon from life's clutches, leading him to his early fate. While I do dread it, it's still the closure I need.

What can almost be described as a magnetic pull moved my feet to the cave. The rose quartz was safe in my pocket, and I recounted numbers in my head with every step.

The mouth of the dark cave imprinted itself against a decently sized hill, like a gaping cavity that you can't see inside of. However, on the foot of the hill stood the pig head on a stick. Only a day later and the stench forced itself inside every small molecule in the air. It's thicker now and wafts inside my nostrils. I stared up at it in shock and awe, repulsion gurgling in the vat of acid in my stomach.

His dead eyes resembled black marbles, yet to be eaten up by the gorged flies coating the rotting skin. He stared at me, throwing my mind into a trance. And for a slight moment -- I want to go insane.

An other-worldly experience falls around me as the surrounding scenery darkens to an abyss, leaving me and the head alone. Maybe it's a trick of the mind, or some crazy hallucination, but the face miraculously twitches, disturbing the flies only temporarily before they continue to crawl in and out the mazes of decomposing holes that scatter its skin.

I flinched harder when the pink tongue that hung limply slithered itself back into the pigs mouth, and the face became all the more animated -- unusually animated for a corpse nonetheless. For some reason, I'm no where near prompted terrified, nor confused in the slightest. Instead, I observed the pig's actions like they were normal.

This thing is only meant to be a gift for darkness, nothing more. I licked my dry lips and squeezed my eyes shut. Opening again, unveiled the head now amusedly grinning, unfazed by the flies and spilled guts that had dumped like paste on the ground.

Even with the new black abyss, grey silhouettes of the real world show as visible against the black backdrop. The heat is still tormenting, and the back of my shirt clings to my skin. All birds fall silent, likely deserting the area where this obscene carcass grins and drips. My head cocked to the side at it, almost in question. The flies, still buzzing like a saw, danced back and forth on both of my arms, and played leapfrog on my sweating forehead. They're black and iridescent green, tickling my nose.

Unlike my typical self, I don't make a movement to swat them away, still in a daze by the head. A pulse began beating in my right temple as the Lord of the Flies hangs on his stick with a stretching smile.

"What are you?" I think out loud without realizing. An invisible gust of hot wind breaks through the faux black walls that surround me, and whiz through us both.

"Hello, little one." The Lord of the Flies speaks in mock solemn, not answering my spoken question. My mouth hangs open in a relaxed state, entranced by the talking head.

"What a silly little girl!" He cackles in a throaty chortle, blood spittling from his lips in a foam. His chin turns slightly downwards, creaking the stick which he sits upon.

"You're just an ignorant, silly little girl. Aren't you, Veronica?"

I blink wordlessly, not able to provide any answers to the probing questions. 

"Don't you agree?" The Lord of the Flies eggs in a taunting ring.

I answer in my stubborn silence.

"Well then," says the Lord of the Flies in an ultimatum. "You'd better run off to Ralph, Jack, Piggy and the others. You like Jack a lot, don't you?" A fleshy part of his skin arches like an eyebrow.

My eyes don't break away from the head, and my chin tilts up in what may have been a challenge or something of that matter. I sniffle as he laughs again.

"What're you doing out here all alone? Are you afraid of me yet? Aren't you afraid after what happened to precious ole Simon?"

I shake my head in disgust, scowling at either the putrid smell or his vile sayings.

"A pig's head on a stick..." My words spat out bitterly, hardly audible to even myself, but perfect in volume to the Lord of the Flies. Veronica! It's a hallucination, snap out of it!

"There isn't anyone here to help you. You're not gonna be saved anytime soon," he states confidently, trying to rock back and forth.

"There's only me. And I'm the beast, the bitch, Veronica. I'm your monster!"

A tremble shocks through me. And Jack wanted to kill such a thing...

"Fancy thinking that the monster was something that you all could just hunt and kill!" Screeched the rotting head. In an echo, entities from the abyss parody in their nasty laughter. I hear Jason Dean, Heather Chandler...

"Simon told you, didn't he?" The thing guesses. "I'm a part of you. Close, close, close!"

The rose quartz appears in my right palm, and the laughter echoes louder from dimly lit corners that I can't pinpoint.

"I'm the reason it's all no-go! I'm the reason that things are the way they are!" He cackles again, making me stumble back from its wave of power, but I don't pay the little hiccup any mind.

The Lord of the Flies leans forward, and the stick creaks and whines as it bends in a strained arch. The radiating stench approaches me with the grinning head as we look at each other, eye to eye.

"Go on, get back to the others and forget about the cave, you stupid girl!"

My jaw clenches in a subtle reaction to the smell, and my chin lifts again in some maintained dignity. His face contorts to a sort of scowl by my challenging silence.

"I'm warning you," he drawls slowly. 

"Turn back now, or you'll only meet me down there in the end-- understand?" The Lord of the Flies retreats back a bit to tower above me once more. My eyes follow him up aimlessly. This made something in him snap.

"Do you want to end up in a ditch? Leave!"

By the last word, everything stopped, and the abyss sank into the ground like a fallen curtain, and the animation of the carcass vanished fully. Only an echo of his word remained in my ears. I stared at the still head in contemplation after what just took place.

God, I'm really losing it now, I think. Really? A talking pig head? Eventually I'll be loony enough for Jack's tribe, God forbid. 

I peer around a few times to only see a perfectly normal world, thankfully. I take one more glance to the pig's head. He hangs without any proof of recent movement. Chuckling again at the crazy episode, I continue my trek up the grassy incline towards the deep cave. Even with how out-of-this-world my hallucination was, the rose quartz did still end up in my hand, but I hastily stuff in back in my pocket. Stupid things, unimportant details.

Before long, I'm creeping up to the rocky entrance. The sun provides a bit of light to shine a bit of the way, but not enough to see clearly. A few bats flap frantically at my entrance, and only half startle me. They squeal, and dart into the darkness ahead. Out of curiosity, I start to follow them, but trip over a soft mass that is placed on the ground.

I catch myself before landing a hard blow, and I turned to view the source of my fall... It all made sense now. The truth has prevailed.

Just barely in the faint light, I stare at the corpse of Captain Benson -- practically naked with a spear protruding from an entrance wound in his abdomen. His mouth and eyes are wide open, frozen in a petrified expression that must've formed on the man's face right before his demise. A fist snaps up to my lips to hold back any rising bile. All along, he's been here, decomposing with bats and bugs.

"Fuck..." I shudder, staring at the body. Greg must've walked in and gotten himself spooked by a deranged Captain Benson without seeing his figure clearly. So that means this old man might have been hiding here way before all of this! Greg was the one who stabbed him blindly through plain fear. He's a child, still ignorant. The 'growl' that Jack and Roger heard was probably just the gasping of Benson during his final breaths. Sounds carry easily in this quiet cave-- easy enough to be heard by two curious boys in search of a crazy phenomenon.

Here's their fucking monster. My shock melted away and was replaced by anger. This is what Simon had to fucking die for? This is what sent the boys further off their rocker? For God's sake! A scowl pinches at my nose and lips as I stare at the frozen expression. He's overly pale with purple tinged lips, and crooked veins pop up more visibly against his almost transparent skin. I would close his eyes, but he's been dead for too long, and his frozen limbs that are staying in place prove that even more. Reaching down, I hover an open hand above his still chest -- the coldness practically radiating from him.

Simon was trying to tell them all. He tried to explain and no one even noticed it was him in their craze.

I need to make sure no one else dies. If the real monster is just us -- like Simon told me -- then Ralph and I have to stand up to stop this crap. Locking eyes with the dead, grey ones, I finally tear away from the shell of a man. 

"Sorry, Benson," I mutter lowly, refusing to touch him. Tonight, we'll go to Jack's next stupid feast, and I'll explain everything while the twins work things out. And if Jack turns a blind eye to my explanation, I'll lead him to the body myself. We have to all work together again... we just have to.

I begin hobbling over the rocky floor of the cave back to the mouth where I entered, trying to ignore the glowing eyes of bats that occupy the ceiling. The way they look when they cocoon themselves in their wings gives me the heebie-jeebies.

I reach the outside again, half expecting to be greeted by fresh air, but I'm hit even harder with a scent of death. How could I forget about the pig head? Nice. Death inside and outside the cave. Rounding the corner, I feel my heart drop as I meet the two dark bullets for eyes.

"Roger..."

"Sawyer," the tall teen greets me curtly, though his thoughts aren't anywhere near innocent as proved by a look on his face. The corner of his mouth is pulled up faintly, though his smiles never seem to reach his eyes. It's odd.

"What are you doing out here?" I breathe. He flashes a questionable look.

"What are you doing near the cave?" My question is dodged. I glance back, but not long enough to take my eyes off him more than needed.

"I'm just taking a walk." My words remain cautious. He hums in response, holding the iron gaze. I think about the twins, and what I told Eric. Seeing Roger looming tall so constantly and at ease makes me silently seethe. God, you fucker.

"Roger," I assert firmly. "I don't know what you think you're doing with the twins, but you need to back off. Leave. Them. Alone."

Unsurprisingly, Roger leans back and laughs boisterously, as if to mock my supposed 'threat.'

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sawyer," he saunters close to me. I take a step back.

"They're just kids," I say. "Whatever you're saying to Sam, cut it out. I don't know why their argument interests you."

Roger continues to progress forward as I only move further back.

"Why should I?" His head innocently tilts to the side. "After all, I don't know why it interests you."

I feel my back hit a wall of rock as we are near the side of the cave. Roger steps up to me, only two inches of air separating us. The hornet's nest in my chest begins to vibrate wildly again.

"Are you sure you didn't just need a moment alone with me?" He daringly presses, a wolf-like grin spreading across his lips. His eyes. They look black, scanning for a weak spot to perhaps exploit or indulge. I swallow my fear and press back against the wall to create more distance as he persists to stare long and hard at my face.

"Will I see you again tonight?" He says in no discernible tone. "You never can be quite sure what may happen." He leans closer. "Some things really are just out of our hands, Sawyer."

"Roger," I rasp as the desperation to get away rises steadily. "Please, just don't hurt Sam." The hot pressure in my chest continues to build. Too hot, too hot, too hot-

"Maybe give me some motivation first." I'm suddenly pressed between his body and the wall of rock. His head bows closer to my face. 

"Don't- please don't do anything to me." Panic alarms are now blaring in my ears, making my breath practically heave in and out.

"Please," I choke, turning my face away from his, off to the side. "Don't- please." My eyes squeeze shut when I feel his cold breath brush the corner of my mouth.

"Roger. Please, stop." My words were high and vulnerable. There's no one nearby, we're so far out. Tears burned my eyes as I prepare to feel his rough touch, but my eyes snap open in surprise as I feel his frame back up.

He's laughing hard. Demeaning as ever. My breaths continued to harshly force out as I turned my head, peaking at the distance between us. Assessing that he was only trying to scare me, I hesitantly allow myself to relax. It's then that I realized how hard my hands were quaking, incredibly visible to him.

"You're quite the entertainer," he observes mockingly, crossing his arms in amusement. My teeth grit the second before I explode out, shoving him roughly in the chest. 

"I'm serious, Roger." I snarled. We stare at each other. Pure hatred, tangible.

"Stay. Away. From Sam. Leave the kids alone." I demand in a warning tone. "Whatever you're trying to accomplish... leave them out of it."

He lets out an unimpressed scoff. 

"Get out of here, princess." Roger nods his head in the direction of my camp. My chest continues to heave as I look him hard in the eye, waiting for something else to happen.

There's nothing. He just stares at me with the same relaxed, simpering expression, like he knows something I don't. My command hasn't gone through to him. He hasn't taken me seriously.

"I'm serious. Run back to your camp before I regret letting you off easy, Sawyer."

Realizing what I'm being granted, I exhale sharply and book it out, not looking back. I need to find Ralph to share what I found in the cave, and leave out the part of the story that contained this little road block called Roger.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Disgusting shivers crawl down my back like roaches while I replay the tape in my mind of Roger's body against mine; The enthralled expression on his face growing as he gained a rise out of my fear. It sickens me to no end.

You never can be quite sure what may happen. 

I don't trust him. Never have, never will. Even more so - I don't trust the hunters to keep to themselves anymore. 

Some things really are just out of our hands, Sawyer.

What could he possibly mean by that? 

Hurting Sam? Tricking me into showing up then hurting me, or worse? 

Sam and Eric need to heal their strain, and I don't trust that either of them can be safe with Roger around. Jack's no better. 

The overwhelming dread climbs my bones as I walk. My eyes scan the woods off to my side as my ears pick up on sounds that aren't really there. A rustle in the bush. A knife being unsheathed. A voice yelping in pain. God, something is going to happen. I don't know what, but it's something.

My feet sink into the sand with each step as I make my way across the beach, filling my shoes with itchy discomfort.

"Ralph?" I approach my friend who thankfully now seems a bit more collected. There's a bit of residual redness from crying, but that will stick around for a while. 

"Hey," he answers softly. I tangle my fingers together before making my risky proposition.

"It's gonna sound weird, but... I think we should go back to Jack's next feast tonight." A veil of ice takes its hold over him suddenly. 

"Why...?" He slowly shakes his head. "After what happened?"

Swallowing hard, I shove a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"I'm scared Roger or Jack will do something. I don't- I don't know what." 

"You think it could be something much worse than last night."

"I dunno, I just-" I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Roger was saying ominous things - like he always does - and I think Eric and Sam should get a chance to talk, because if they actually make up, things could start to turn around-"

"- What do you mean Roger was talking to you?" He cuts me off with concern. I shake my head, opening and closing my mouth a few times as I try to find the words. 

"I just... came across him." 

"And?" 

"And... nothing," I say. "He was saying weird things, and after last night I'm just worried. I think we should show up to make sure nothing happens so Samneric can talk things out without the older boys getting in the way of that."

Ralph starts shaking his head like I anticipated. "No, no, no..." He trails off, shutting his eyes tightly and rubbing his temples, like it's a load of energy to process my statement. 

"They can just talk another time."

"Ralph, you know they won't talk unless they're put in the same place." I reason realistically. His face still scrunches up like he's getting ready to protest.

"And... I don't like the idea of them having a feast after what happened. I think we should go to just... monitor them." That idea seems to poke him in the way I hoped.

"Sooo, we babysit them?" He raises a brow. 

"I mean, it's bad, but yeah. Pretty much."

If we cannot manage to keep a tribe together, we might as well insure that no one else dies to maintain some form of stability. At least until we get rescued.

"Are you sure you really wanna go over there?" He eggs on, waving a hand for emphasis. "Because I'm not sure that I do."

Simon is dead, but I don't want a hunter to die. If the twins at least make up, we can start from there and maybe Sam could somehow message our thoughts back and fourth between tribes, and maybe we can form a bar of peace.

"I wanna go." I insist. "I wanna make a point to them that we're better than that. I'm doing this for Simon." With a quivering breath, he exhales and rubs a hand over his face. My heart feels somewhat heavy with everything, but I need to muster up some courage to face those savages.

"We'll go later," he reluctantly agrees.

"We're what??" Piggy barges in, looking at me in disbelief. I blink in place. 

"Are we seriously going over there after what happened?"

"Yes, Piggy," I lull calmly as if to reason. "We need to show them that we aren't going to cower for their mistakes. We need to be the ones who make sure nothing else happens."

He crosses his sun-burnt arms over his chest with a distasteful expression. In this bath of heat, our hair is practically plastered to our foreheads. 

"I don't see why we should..." He mumbles miserably. Pursing my lips, I choose to drop the discovery into conversation.

"Guys... I found Captain Benson." They pause, matching faces of confusion. 

"What do you mean by you found him?" Ralph blurts, stepping forward.

I sigh in response. "Well, he's dead." The brunette stiffens up, but his lack of reaction is reasonable. After all, we all sort of knew that the guy was long gone anyways. 

"He was stabbed. I think he was mistaken for the apparent monster that they've all been blabbering about."

Piggy is silent, but fidgeted uncomfortably. Ralph rubs his chin, but speaks up. 

"Take me to see the body." Piggy looks over nervously, prepares to protest, but his worries are quickly calmed.

"Piggy, you can just stay and watch the little ones," he says. I pat the skiddesh boy on the shoulder to provide some reassurance. 

"Come on then!" An exasperated Ralph urges.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"I just found him like this," I point to the twisted body that lays on the cave's rocky floor. Ralph peers down somberly. After all, as one of their school's officials, he'd been a mentor for most of these kids before everything happened.

"We can't leave him like this," whispers Ralph. The boy looks back at me.

"We have to bury him."

I gesture back at Benson. "But what if we need to show Jack?"

Ralph puts a hand out for me to stop. "We show him the grave, and the empty cave." He explained sourly. "It's inhumane to leave a body like this."

The reasonable part of my brain finally kick starts. He's right. Trying to prove the childish point of an imaginary monster is way lower on the scale. A proper burial is plain respect. 

"Okay," I nod, backtracking my last statement as remorse pinches me.

"You want to right now?"

"Yes," he answers. "We can at the top of this hill, so he'll be in the sunlight from now on."

I smile sadly at the chief. The first thing we'd have to do is move him, which is a two person job. Benson isn't the biggest guy on Earth, but he's a grown adult man, nonetheless.

"I'll get his legs, you grab him just under the arms," Ralph instructs. In a hustle to make things quick, we both hurry over to our placements, and hoist up on the count of three.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Despite my hatred for sweat and woe, I find myself being indifferent to both as aching pain ripples through my arms with every thrust of the flat rock that I grasp between my trembling hands. The rock's rough surface grinds against the skin of my already calloused palms, rubbing them raw. Meanwhile, the sun beats down on us as we dig the grave. It eyes us from its stalking point in the sky like a huge eyeball, and taunts us with blazing heat. The weather is wickedly bipolar here.

I grunt, stab the Earth with the makeshift shovel, and drag it back till it creates an open wound in the dirt. My stamina is withering. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I draw in a shuddering breath and fling the loose soil into one of the scattered piles. Ralph hacks away at the ground with a ripped up plank of wood from a rotted tree, haphazardly snarling with a twisted grimace to display the hard work.

After what feels like hours, we give up on the secondary excuses for tools and attack the ground with our bare hands like it was an enemy. I picture Jason Dean to keep my motivation running. I wonder who Ralph pictures.

The corpse is laid out in the sun, stiff as a board, but not light as a feather. That thing isn't Captain Benson. It's merely a jar that once held his soul like a moth. 

As a gravemarker, we bury him in front of a reddish boulder at the peak of the hill. We do everything to get a deep enough grave, digging on our hands and knees. Peering down, I gaze at the dark lines hooded beneath my fingernails where soil is trapped under. Not a pleasant feeling, but it got the job done. Benson is rested next to the ditch so the hole would be appropriately scaled.

About the whole time, Ralph continuously mutters silent apologies, repeating over and over. Being gentle, we slide the man into this new tomb, one where he could rest, lowering him with ease to the floor.

"Benson was a good man," he nods earnestly, coughing and sniffling. Uncomfortable, I remain quiet and grab his hand. It's sad, really. Like, another crack formed in our whole developed system. This... corrupted excuse for civilization. Everything was going further off the rail, and we're rendered powerless.

And so it went, listening to Ralph mutter his thoughts out loud until we had to push the dirt into the makeshift grave, giving Benson a hopefully temporary resting place.

"We need to go tell Jack. For Simon." I say, keeping my focus on the freshly tossed dirt. 

"Yeah. Alright." Ralph mumbled bitterly.

"Night will fall soon," I point out, eyeing the sky as the clouds were mopping up. He only nods, contributing to the painful awkwardness. 

"Well, let's go then."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"I seriously have to talk to him tonight??" Eric exclaims in disbelief, like we told him that the sky is actually red. "Yes, it won't be so bad," I coax, tugging his arm in the direction of Jack's camp.

"I don't wanna!"

"You said you would!" I justify shrilly. Pulling away, the twin crossed his arms, glaring and Ralph and I. 

"Yeah, but I didn't think I would have to so soon. You might as well tell me to jump into a shark's mouth!"

I roll my eyes. "You're such drama. Let's go before they kill another person." Can't believe we were practically about to babysit some deranged teenagers.

"Do I have to go, too...?" Piggy asks, his teeth almost chattering. Ralph slaps a hand on the boy's shoulder roughly. 

"Safety in numbers, so yes."

"Don't be a pussy," Eric bites back, incredibly uncalled for. I shoot a warning glare. 

"Take your own advice then."

He silences quicker than expected. The sun is diving below the horizon and into the sea, splashing the sky with pink and orange. On the far opposing end, the darkness of night slowly crawls over the distant trees. The few little ones are put to bed early since there's no one to watch them while we confront the more 'dangerous' group.

Walking in a clump, we almost brace ourselves as we head along the beach. A flurry of smoke dances to the darkening sky a good way out, pairing with a faint glow of a fire. A familiar feeling unfurls in my gut. It's not until this moment that I question this whole choice.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

A scent of cooked pork wafts in the air as the chanting drones on. Why would they even party after what happened? Is there no sympathy left? As if the hot air wasn't unbearable enough, the raging bonfire sent a bath of heat to sit heavily around us.

At our entrance, every painted gaze turns focus to us, making us pause. Immediately this time, Jack comes forward in almost dangerous strides, scowling like he just smelled something putrid.

"What the fuck do you want now?" The hunters ready their spears at the blonde's demanding question to us. Ignoring them, I step up to the chief. 

"We're here to watch you guys so nothing else can happen!"

He scoffs, triggering a domino effect for the savage group to emit nasty snickers. 

"We don't need your supervision, Vera."

"I think you do," Ralph intervenes angrily, occupying the big gap between Jack and I. As expected, Roger appears nearby at the argument. I cannot help but think about the way Jack even uses that God awful nickname during the worst of times.

"You killed somebody, Jack! You killed Simon!" Ralph stabs knives into the air with screamed words while pointing to the group. My head cranes past the boys. I see Sam, observing the scene. Eric has yet to make any move to talk, but I don't expect him to in this moment.

"The monster was in him!" Jack defends back, snarling as he lunges with a spear, yet doesn't try to stab anyone. Something about that phrase turns everything over. 

"Are you fucking kidding?" I make a beeline towards him, brushing past Ralph.

"You're not going to use that dumb fucking excuse for a human child, when we found your fucking monster!"

They pause, piquing interest on their faces. 

"It was only Benson. Remember him? You literally heard a deranged old man! We found him!"

Jack's head shakes in denial when focus turns to him. "You're lying. He swam out in the ocean and drowned."

"Wanna say that to his body?" I challenge. Snarling, Roger lunges at me. Reflexes kicking in, I duck away as Jack yanks him back, keeping a pointed finger at him as a warning. 

"You're a bunch of fucking liars!" He proceeds on, not accepting any logic.

"You're losing it." I insist, making his scowl falter. 

"It was Simon's fault then for running straight into a mob. He was always aloof."

My jaw clenches. "Do you wanna say that again?" I start to march over, getting Roger riled back up.

"Easy!" Ralph jumps in front of me. Jack puts a solemn hand over his chest in pure mockery. 

"Awww," he gushes. "Looks like Vera has a knight in shining armour to come to her rescue!"

I shake my head, maintaining the same glare.

"So," Jack started progressively, studying us and our combative stances. "Did ya just come here for meat?" 

"We already told you that we just want to watch you all!" Ralph tightens his fists, waiting for a response. 

"Huh," Jack chuckles, unconvinced. Roger joins in with the forsaken dark laughter.

Poking out a lower lip, Jack leans to his side to look at me, pointing a smug finger my way. 

"Her too?"

"No." I answer for myself before Ralph can. Smirking, Jack saunters over, carelessly brushing past the brunette.

"Hungry, Vera?" He eggs me smugly. I stare at him, straight-faced. 

"I don't want your half cooked pork, you swine."

Shrugging, he calls over for a few hunters. "Sam! Tony! Collect some fruit, and bag them into two old shirts worth."

The two snap to attention, and salute, "Yes, Chief," in unison. I curse under my breath as Eric avoids the contact with Sam when the boys hurry off as to not anger Jack. A hand pulls my gaze away.

"You're gonna eat tonight." Jack insists, a sinister calm dwelling in his stance. My eyes drift to the sand, still tainted red and somehow yet to be washed away. My breath hitches in my throat and Jack seems to notice.

"Don't you miss our old arguments?" He blurts, almost as if to distract me. My head zips to him, and I squint. 

"They never stopped."

He shakes his head to debunk that phrase. "No. I mean the arguments we had on the plane, and when we first got here."

I think about it. How could I forget such enraging moments? However, the way he made me feel back then can't compare to the anger I want to unleash on him now. I didn't think it'd be possible. The red and black warpaint is applied so harshly to his face, yet I can somehow still see glimmers of the old Jack.

"I'd rather forget those," I admit, glancing back to the red sand. A hard ball forms in the back of my throat, and I feel the heat building up in my eyes. Swallowing, Jack goes at another attempt.

"Remember when we danced in the woods?" He takes my hands slowly, looking flirtatious as ever. I glare at him, nodding ever so slightly. 

"Unfortunately."

He moves my hand to his shoulder while grasping my other one. I gasp suddenly when his free hand takes hold of my waist, and suddenly we're swaying.

"What are you doing," I ask, reasonably startled. Ralph, Piggy and Eric all eye me from a distance. Jack shushes me.

"Stop asking questions or I'll make you cross that log bridge with me again," he grins. "Don't you remember it?" Of course I do.

"Since, you know, my name's Jack, I asked if you'd care to be my Rose. Then you said-"

"- I'll never let go, Jack." I interrupt him begrudgingly. The phrase had a whole new meaning now. I would never let go of the fact that he made this island into a second Hell. I will never let go of Simon's death. I would never let go of the grief he caused me. That's when I call his bullshit.

"Why are you acting like this? Do you not care that you killed someone?" Despite my harsh words, I don't pull away from his hold. The broad smile melts away to a frown, guilty now.

"I care more than you think," he whispers seriously. Our eyes bear into each others. "Then why are you acting like it never happened?"

"Because I don't want you to think about it anymore."

I widened my eyes with satire, placing an innocent hand on my chest. 

"Why?" My breathy words come out in a mock-dreadful tone. "Because making me not think about it is supposed to clear your guilty conscience? You think I ought to surrender to your side and slit someone's throat as initiation?"

The sardonic words, as cynical as they are, clung to the obvious hint of sarcasm. "That's not quite my strong suit, but I commend you for trying. It shows how delusional you've become."

Jack immediately backtracks after my scathing allegations. "I didn't mean it like that," he stammers in defense. "You know I didn't mean it like that, right?"

I shrug, fully unsure. "Honestly? I don't know what to think anymore." Sighing, he brushes over my knuckles with a thumb, grazing the dainty rings that hug my slim fingers. Anxious, I shoot another glance to my friends, flashing a look to indicate my thoughts to them. Without any warning, Jack suddenly dips me around before twirling me.

"Jesus-" I exclaimed in surprise, making him laugh. Roger stared at us from a safe distance. There's something predatorial, sinister even. I looked back, choosing to not brush it off for once.

Too busy staring at Roger, I don't notice Ralph charging over to Jack. It catches me by surprise when Ralph tears Jack away from me by his shoulder, and sends a fist thundering across the blonde's cheek. When Ralph pulls back, his knuckles are tainted red. I don't have to be a genius to know what brought the sudden anger on. Jack's nonchalant attitude of being a complete shithead is enough to make anyone want to lash out.

The painted boys start to form a circle around the two. Stunned, I watch them until a hand yanks me back; Eric pulling me into the crowd and out of the ring.

"Kill the beast! Bash his head! Do em in!"

Roger would be the only one chanting those grotesque words. I'm right, of course. 

"Shut up!" I scream at the sullen-faced boy.

"Kill the beast! Bash his head! Do em in!"

The chanting increases as more people catch on in the disturbing enthusiasm. Breathing hard, I turn my attention to Jack and Ralph; fists flying, bloody noses, and split lips.

"Kill the beast! Bash his head! Do em in!"

It would have been fine. It all would have blown over if Roger hadn't joined in. Luke and Pablo went at it. Pablo who joined on Jack's side however, fought for Ralph. I stumbled to the side when Eric whizzes past to jump in.

"Kill the beast! Bash his head! Do em in!"

Then goes Rapper, and Will... Piggy and I stand back. It's a fucking riot. In their delusional cloud, half of them aren't even ganging up on Ralph; just screaming like banshees and pretending to beat each other like they're all the alleged 'monster' that has been debunked. Shaking my head and mustering up the courage, I shove my way in.

Noisy, prolonged calls in a drag out. A squeaky voice tried calling me back. The voice in question belongs to Piggy. Flashes of pale and dark flesh covered in crimson war paint blur across my vision as I take Ralph by the hand -- who is no longer attacking, or even being attacked by Jack. Jack in question has lost interest and joined the manic chanting.

"Look what you started!" I shriek frantically to Ralph as I drag him out of the buzzing mass of humans, flinching as some of them charge my way in all directions. The tune of the hunting chant is distinguishable through the shouting and fists colliding in bloody unison.

"He had it coming," Ralph finally answers as we make it a few feet back on the outside with a blubbering Piggy. Staring at Ralph, I sigh out slowly in disappointment. So much for babysitting, eh? In my time of looking back at the crowd for Eric, I take notice of someone who stands out in the chaos; It's Roger.

His eyes stay glued on an active figure. Enthralled, is how I'd describe it. I pause at the uncanny demeanor. This doesn't strike as a casual study of madness, but it's a gaze of something far more sinister to comprehend. Eyes are the windows to the soul. I peer through them to find his predatorial motives just waiting for the moment to pounce. That's when I snap into reality. He looked like- wait.

Brain fog of heavy distortion clouds my thoughts. The sounds -- it's as though water had been flooding into my ears. Like the sound of the sea through the conch shell. Only it's not the real sea, that's a facade we get told as kids. In reality, it's the blood rush of adrenaline and intent. Even through the muffled chiming, I can undoubtfully make out that horrid chant.

A glowing pinnacle of chaos sat in the midst of the riot, fueling everyone's desire. Orange flames roaring up into the sky, licking the clouds. There's no control this time. The ropes are snapped.

Focus swivels back to Roger. Direct eye contact comes first in a steady click. Beat two, I feel a sinking pit in my stomach. A moment later, the smirk unfurled on his face. Its origins are an open book. The famous one like JD -- it always left me terror stricken.

Yes, he knows something that I don't. Something bad is about to go down and I won't be able to stop it. My wit cobbles together at the command of my logical thinking coming through. The fog clears up. I watch him test the end of a sharpened spear for precision. Realization hits me like a pound of bricks. Roger's gonna...

My heart starts running the opposite direction of my mind. Its footsteps pound vibrations through my chest. Unable to piece together a complete thought, I still don't even have to think, because I already know.

"Holy shit," I mutter in renewed awareness. "Someone's gonna get killed..." I grab Ralph to snatch his attention.

"What?" He strains to hear me through the chaos. I clench my jaw and yank him closer to repeat the useless warning.

"I said-"

The sentence goes unfinished as a penetrating sound splatters through the atmosphere. An unmistakable sound of flesh ripping, and several frightened screams sourcing from the hunters to compliment it. Oh, the sound of bloody glory.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."

- Joseph Conrad

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 --- 𝐒𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓.𝐕 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? 𝐌𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫 <𝟑