𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭

"You have to make sure it's well compressed so it doesn't erode." I instruct Peter and Percival, the two who have finally suckered me into building sand castles with them.

When you get stranded on an island, as if it's a normal situation anyone would casually wind up in, there isn't much to do. I guess that whole prospect should come as obvious, though. In case you'd assume plenty of company would be around to entertain you, which would seem most likely-- just know there isn't. Because boys utterly suck.

Weeks have gone by since the last argument with Jack. I don't know how many it's been, but it's been too many weeks since I've given him the second chance. I never told him about the broken glass. Why should I? What difference would it make? I've gone back to wearing my shoes everywhere, even if they get full of sand.

Time flies here, and there should have been a plane by now to rescue us during that dragged out time. It's only more devastating when the days drift over the horizon without a ship or a sign of humanity outside this island.

It's even worse when Jack and his tribe skip out on fire duties to hunt, leaving us with the short end of the stick, per usual.

"What does 'erode' mean?" Peter asks innocently. With both hands forming a bowl shape, I scoop up some wet sand and carefully compact it to the walls of the progressing sand castle.

"See what I'm doing?" They both nod their heads, eager to learn.

"I'm packing the sand tightly so that it doesn't get washed away so easily." The two little ones begin replicating my action. Foamy water creeps up to our knees and with another breath, the vast ocean tugs the waves back to its home.

"Veronica, how would we make the little bumpy things?" Percival questions. I tilt my head to the side, frowning at his sentence.

"What bumpy things?" I quiz. He squints his eyes at me, almost seeming as if he couldn't understand why I didn't know what he meant.

"All castles have them!" Peter jumps in matter of factly. Blinking a few times, I shake my head, still unsure of what they are trying to convey.

"I can draw it!" Peter declares confidently. His small finger drags through the sand, bulldozing a path. He draws out strange blocky shapes and a sense of comprehension falls over me.

"Battlements?" I chuckle. They stare at me with unreadable looks. 

"Battlements are a form of defense, or protection from attacks." My hands sort of wave in front of me for emphasis, hoping that it will help them to better understand.

I rambled on about the time periods that usually had these structures. The two boys had already lost attention during my mini lesson, and had gone on to build different parts of the castle.

"Here." I quickly sputter to regain their interest. Luckily, I was successful. Holding a finger up, I show them how to create these battlements, aka 'bumpy things' as Percival calls them.

I run my finger along the top of the castle, cutting out blocky shapes and they mimic the action. It took them a few tries to get the hang of it. I peer up for a split second to check on the other boys that I'd been supposed to keep an eye on.

What are Samneric up to now?

"Hang tight for a second, kiddos." They didn't seem to notice my command, too invested in their precious castle.

I approach the twins, observing the curious game they're playing.

Henry, Bill, and Andy-- the three fully submerged in the sand up to their chins while the twins repeatedly kicked them in the head, yelling at them to 'spit'.

"I got it already!" Bill snaps, earning another kick in the head. I cringed at the blow.

"Spit! Spit! Spit!" The twins chant in a buzz. They occasionally jump in excitement whenever the victims of the game get close to success.

The trio twists their faces in displeasure, spatting loogies into the near waves.

"There I did it!" Henry frantically moves his head around to gesture at the low tide.

"I didn't see it splash!" Sam protests. Is that Sam though? I think it's Sam.

"See it splashed again!" Andy grunts, struggling in the sand. A foot whipped the back of his head. "Ow!"

"It's our turn to have fun!" Bill grabs one of the twins ankles from behind him, and pulls it over his head. The twin trips, rolling into the sand. His other half just giggles at the mishap his brother endured.

"Hey, be careful!" I intervene. Henry, Bill, and Andy claw themselves out of the ground, and scramble to their feet. I looked at them and raise a brow, all covered neck to toe in sand.

"Who's on fire watch?" Sam n' Eric question in unison, quickly looking at each other spitefully for the mutual interruption. I divert my eyes back to them and stare blankly at the cloned faces.

"Ralph and Piggy are." I respond.

"We should play hide and seek!" The left twin excitedly suggests.

"Sure," The other one on the right shrugs. Lefty jumps up at the agreement, putting his hand up for a high five, but his brother leaves him hanging and ignores the waiting hand. I remember the last time one of them mentioned their game of hide and seek.

"Let's not do that." I swat my hand on one of the twin's heads to brush some sand from his hair.

"Then what can we do?" 

Ignoring the question I point at the twin on the right.

"You're Eric?" 

"Sam," he corrects, looking strangely at the serious finger being aimed at him. 

"Erm, okay..." I start slowly. "Play tic tac toe in the sand."

The twins exchange looks before walking away without a response, instinctively going in the same direction.

"Why're you following me?" Sam exclaims in accusation. 

"I'm not!" Eric sounds offended. "You're following me!" 

"Am not!" 

They try to change paths, but end up going the same way again, making them both scowl. 

"Cut it out!" 

"It's not my fault!" 

Groaning in frustration, they both correct themselves and cross off in opposite routes now. Cracking a faint smile, I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Ok then," I mutter to myself before shooting a quick gaze to the tree line. My eyes scanned for Jack and his hunters. Maybe they'd gotten back from the hunt by now. To no avail, none of the group had returned. A long sigh emits from my mouth. I rub my hands over my face and wince at the sunburn I've developed.

Better get back to the two little ones.

Peter and Percival are humming as they add the final touches to their castle. I bend down, offering a sweet smile. They jump up, joyfully presenting their creation.

"Ta-Da!" They exclaim, their arms stretched out to the sand castle. I over-exaggerate my reaction, clasping my hand over my mouth.

"Ohmygosh it's amazing! Nice job, I'm proud of you two!" I praised, high-fiving them both. They flash toothy grins.

The castle has a little moat outlining the outer walls. It 's decorated with shells and small stones they placed here and there. To finish it off, they have a stick jabbed through the top.

Yes... they had a stick just protruding from the top of the castle.

"So uhm- that's a stick coming out of the castle?" I tilt my head in puzzlement.

"Percival picked it!"

"Well, it's a good castle. I commend you both." I applauded in a sophisticated voice, earning another giggle from the younger boys.

The happiness quickly ended, as Roger crashed through the creation, stomping, and kicking it. With a big cloud tossing up, sand flew up in my eyes and felt like small, sharp stabs.

"Roger!" I yell, pausing his action. He looks at me. Baffled, I stammer, "Why aren't you hunting with Jack?"

Peter and Percival stand, mouths agape and their eyes watering, staring at the demolished castle. Don't look at them. They only cry once you look at them.

Roger, not breaking eye contact, stomps three more times as a way of saying, fuck you. Without a word, he walks away as if nothing happened.

The silence is broken as a wail slices through the air, coming from little Percival. Shit. Peter picks up on the action, and begins weeping. I rub my temple, feeling flustered. I'm not good with kids when it comes to a situation like this.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I attempt to console the two boys. "It's alright... We can fix it." To my dismay, their tears don't cease. This is why I hate being the designated babysitter.

"Ummm..." A soft hum rings through my closed lips, scraping to find away to calm them down.

"Look, look!" I hush them, desperately gathering some of the sand together. I make weak attempts at recompiling the build, trying to hush their whines. They pause momentarily to check my work. Unsatisfied, they burst into tears again.

Giving up, I make the remains of the castle into a sad pile, jabbing the stick through the top.

"ta..da.." I awkwardly present, forcing a weak smile. They cross their arms and turn their heads away. Dropping my hands, I give into defeat. The two little ones almost instantly get over the situation, seeing something that is much more interesting. I watch them trot away to find a new activity.

Left with nothing for me to do, I decide that I should go find Simon. I could go for a conversation.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"Simon?" I say softly to get his attention. The sun shone spotlights down through the spaces of trees onto the jungle floor. Looking up towards the sky, fragments of blue peek-a-booed here and there across the tree tops. A gold ray beamed on Simon, giving him the angel appearance.

"Hi," he hums simply, still lost in his imagination. I sit down next to him, huffing a sigh of solace.

"I need some peace and quiet after that ordeal." My head rests on my hands.

"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like." I muse. He boy's head pops up in slight intrigue.

"What would be like what?"

I begin tracing the outlines of the highest trees which blocked the sky with my finger.

"I wonder what it would be like if everything was peaceful all the time."

"Like total peace?"

"Obviously," I smile softly. Light catches Simon's left eye, making it glow brighter. Than the other.

"I don't think it exists," Simon quickly blurts. I look at him in surprise.

"Wow, I took you as an optimist," I chuckled, and Simon lowered his head. "Why do you say that?" I ask.

"Well," he begins slowly. "You have the zero-sum game, and the positive-sum game. In the zero-sum game, an entity that considers itself rational will seek out the greatest gain for themselves, which would also be seeking a maximum loss for the opposing entity."

He takes a breath, leaning his head to the other side as if he had to gain courage to say it.

"And optimists who believe in the positive-sum game say that no one will benefit at the other's expense. That it can be a win-win situation if people are cooperative, but... people are just too hateful for that. Too ahistorical."

I tangle my fingers together as I listen to how his words spilled so simply for such a tricky, dimensional topic.

"So we're ahistorical in the sense of the zero-sum game being our reality?" I question. Simon nodded slowly, but my words mustn't have been right on the money.

"And it stirs up conflicts, meaning no peace ever, so... yes." He finishes, seemingly satisfied with that conclusion.

"We'd be different people. But we don't fully know how we'd act, right? But I guess you could make assumptions..."

He thinks for a moment as the thought fades away in his eyes, and a new one freezes over.

"What I'm trying to say is, if it were peaceful all the time, things would definitely be different. Way different, but... we'd be better off, right?" His small voice trailed off, unsure of how to explain his wonders. I nod my head in slight understanding.

"People who call themselves realists says the zero-sum game is rational. And idealists are 'too optimistic' for believing that everyone can cooperate and gain something without there being a lose."

My brows furrow. "But... it's true. Everything can't be a win-win scenario."

Simon doesn't answer for a moment. My words had plopped down into the pool of silent ambience, sending off gentle ripples to reverberate the air.

"There's people who say tomato and others who say tomahto." Simon smiles, and ends it at that. And somehow, I know exactly what he means with those simple words.

"Without old chaos, we wouldn't be where we are now as a society, I guess." I choke up an ironic laugh.

My focus stays on the ground, trying to figure out my situation. Simon sits, allowing me to sort through my options.

"What if I join in on one of their hunts?" I chime in to get his honest opinion. Simon's eyes widen, sadness flashing in his expression.

"Hunting?" The idea sure didn't appeal to his morals. I shrug, trying to make my thought seem less feral.

"I mean... I know it doesn't seem fun. I can go after my fire watch shift and..."

I clamp my mouth shut. The boy's head bowed, slightly disappointing with my objective. Not a moment later, he shook off his low mood, and nodded his head, forcing a small grin. I do the same, but when I descend back into my thoughts, the half-smile falls.

"Simon?"

"Hm?"

"Do you remember that glass bottle that Roger shattered a few weeks ago?" My voice sounds more meek and vulnerable than I would've liked.

"Yes, why?" He answers curtly. I pull my lips between my teeth and sniffle as I try to think about what I'm gonna say.

"Well... after that night, when I was going to bed-" I pause and look up at the boy. "-I was about to walk into my shelter when I stepped on something sharp."

I look down at my shoes that had been roughed up in this cynical environment.

"And when I looked down, I realized that the shattered glass was scattered along the sand right outside, like it was planted there intentionally."

A look of soft alarm flashes across his spring-hued features.

"Are you sure it was intentional?"

I give him a dumb look. "Why would there be glass immediately at the door of my shelter under the sand?"

Simon purses his lips in thought when I point that out.

"No, you're right." He quickly says. "But... why would somebody do that? And who?"

"Three guesses!" I exclaim sarcastically before dropping my face into my hands. Simon stays silent.

"And- I haven't even said anything till now! It shocked me- I didn't even know what to do in response," I poured frantically, waving my hands for emphasis. He just watches me with his kind eyes as I ramble on.

"I know I'm hated but I didn't think any of them would go that far." My hands fall in exasperation.

"Roger is a tricky case," says Simon. "But I suppose Luke could be a suspect."

"I don't even care anymore. It's whatever now." I shake my head and massage my temple.

"Did you get too hurt? By the glass, I mean?" 

"It went through my foot. A shard of it did." I say monotonously. "I eventually yanked it out and wrapped my foot with some scrap fabric."

"And where did you leave the glass?"

"Well, it was scattered throughout the sand, and I had to slowly pick all the pieces out. Hell, I'm not even sure I managed to gather it all, but I bundled it up in my blazer and emptied the sack of glass out over the cliff the next day."

Simon contemplates a response, but I think a response is unnecessary. Nothing can be done about it.

"I'm going to go find Jack." I state softly before he could add anything else. Simon nods, with no words to offer. He wasn't too keen on the idea of hunting and the ethics behind it. Departing like this created some guilt, and I feel myself get pulled back by an invisible force.

"See you around." I raised a cheek and made my way out of the clearing.

"Good luck." Simon wished me, breaking the silence.

My fingers held the sapphire brooch that complimented my white shirt. I rubbed a thumb over the item, hoping it would give me some understanding.

I ponder my thoughts, working out ways that I would eventually talk to Jack. Memories that I used to repress dance in the back of my consciousness. Perhaps I won't tell him today, but maybe I will. Sometime. I can't focus on it for too long. The beach isn't much further.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Jack and his hunters were at the platform, back from their last hunt and preparing to go on another one. I notice Sam n' Eric both among the crowd of boys. They're both arguing, shoving each other in the side with their elbows, though one of them looks more unbothered than the other, making him all the more infuriated. 

"They always hear us because you fucks can't stay quiet for two seconds. If you keep quiet, they won't get away."

It takes me a few seconds to realize he was talking about the pigs, not people. I acknowledge the bantering twins when he says this, mostly because their noisiness makes them hard to ignore. Figures why they're always being heard. One of them hisses in hushed whispers to his brother who is insistently trying to defend himself in whatever they were fighting about. 

It's evident that one cares about hunting more, contrary to his brother's lack of attention for Jack's works. Which speaking of; Jack's instruction towards the group gradually gets more gruesome as he explained how they would go about the slaughter.

"Surround 'em, n' pounce. Go for the throat, It'll lose blood faster that way. Then, bash its head in." I swore I saw him grin in some strange way at the phrase.

"Hear 'em squeal!" Luke adds, thrusting his fist into a palm.

"Kill the pig, cut it's throat, spill its blood," Roger chanted silently to himself. The whole air about the ordeal was off. It's not what Jack was saying. It was how he said it. Devious giggles sparked up at the chant.

I was behind them all, completely unnoticed. I decide to make my presence known.

"I want to come." Attention turned to me, curious and surprised eyes bore mine. Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised by my request.

"You can't hunt with us." Luke bluntly states.

"Why not?"

"Because you're a girl." He retorts harshly. Jack began to speak up.

"Luke-"

"She's a girl."

"Yeah, and if you haven't noticed the sky's also blue, Captain Obvious, or does that need to be a general announcement, too?" I cut in. Luke ignores me and stares at Jack with the same insistent stature.

"She can't have that advantage." He sneers. Jack doesn't seem up for an argument, which strikes me as slightly infuriating.

"What century are you stuck in?" I scoff over his childish complaining.

"Hunting isn't her job. She can keep on slutting around with you, but she can't come with us." He spat. For a moment I could've sworn that I saw Jack holding back his own smirk, perhaps it was meant for me to see, but he then lets out an exasperated sigh. My teeth grit together when I whip back around.

"If you even thought for a second that -"

Commotion is ended as a loud crack rings through the air. Jack's knife is slammed into a nearby tree, stabbing it. He sparks a look at Luke -- A look that reads, don't start.

"You can come, but don't mess us up." Jack nods towards me. Samneric, who were formerly just arguing, whoop and holler at Jack's answer. I look over to one of them without pausing to assess his facial features --- not that they're any bit distinguishable.

"Hey, Eric-"

"For fuck's sake, I'm Sam!" 

"Where are the hunting spears?" Before either of them can respond, Jack speaks up. 

"Someone get her a spear." 

I nod gratefully as someone tosses me one. Catching the weapon, I run my fingers down the item. It's smoothed all the way down to the sharpened end. I tap the point a few times to test the precision, thinking about Jack's words, and ignoring the sound of Samneric now arguing again in the background.

You can come, but don't mess us up. Yeah, okay, but I'm sure they already do that plenty on their own. An elbow nudges my side, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Ready to go?" Jack mutters to me as he scans my face. I nod vigorously. Jack raises his eyebrows quick. He was eager to expose me to the excitement of bloodshed.

"Hunters!" Jack shouts, motioning that it's time to head out.

We skulk through the dense greenery, slightly crouched over. We scanned the jungle, straining to hear or see an unfortunate pig that may happen to carelessly waddle by. The harsh grip on my spear intensified, making my knuckles turn white.

"Remember, go for the throat." Jack mutters in my ear. I ignore him and move my gaze elsewhere.

"It's going to be too hard for her." Luke persists to Jack in a hushed whisper. I open my mouth to retort before Jack cuts me off knowing I'd most likely raise my voice.

"She'll be fine." he insists. Jack turns to me, flashing his eyes as an attempt to keep my temper down.

"You'll be ready?"

I nod. My heart pumps blood through my veins, giving me some sort of rush. Just beating. Another voice joins, only it's not so gentle.

Tell him about how you practically brutally murdered JD by letting him blow himself up. How you let him kill those people.

Just tell him! 

The different voices retorted back and fourth in my conscience. A pain sprouts like a blooming flower, contributing the aching sensation through my skull.

Keeping it a secret won't alter the truth, Veronica.

I rub my temples squeezing my eyes shut. The island bugs buzz, only festering with the anxious pulp clogging my windpipe.

She can't face reality, A voice scoffs viciously.

You're a no-go, Veronica, a new voice taunts me. I ignore it all, it's just a ringing in my ears. It has to be. A new voice whispers in my ear. 

Tell him, the voice presses. A voice that belongs to none other than Jason Dean. My blood turns to sludgy, half-melted ice. It feels like my bones and joints are liquefied from the acidic snow in my veins. Jack places a hand on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Are you ok?" He softly asks me. Luke and Roger snicker behind him.

"Told you she couldn't handle it." Luke smirks at me, waiting for my argument.

"I'm fine." I snap back. Jack shrugs at Luke's glare and ignores Roger's looming presence. A small stinging pain slices across my ankles.... Thorns. My legs kick the plants away, and I continue on.

We trudge through the jungle, making sure every step is a soft and cautious movement.

Tell him. Just tell him.

"She'll mess us up." Luke desperately tries to convince. Jack shakes his head, not giving in.

"Well, Luke, there's a first time for everything. If she doesn't ever try, she won't ever be able to do it."

"Jack-"

"She definitely won't be able to do it if you keep talking and scare 'em all away." Jack interrupts. "We'll catch her up."

He turns his head away to end the conversation. I can feel Luke's eyes staring daggers in the back of my head.

Tell him. I feel myself slip into my own mind. Swimming through memories.

Time to choose, Veronica.

I stop in my tracks, and Jack looks back at me.

"You'll be good?" Jack checks again for confirmation. "If you're not up for the sweat and blood and all, I'll understand."

"I don't... know," I start slowly. Jack, who is now fed up, begins losing interest.

"Then don't bother wasting time trying. We have a pig to hunt," he says, sounding preoccupied as he brushes past me.

"Jack, wait-"

Do you have the fucking guts? JD screams in my ear.

"I can do it." 

He shows a small smile of approval. 

"Come on." Jack grabs my arm and leads me away from the spot. Roger stares at me, an uncanny expression plastered on his face. I peel my eyes away from him. I can't play this prolonged eye-contact game right now. We creep through the trees, keeping our eyes on high alert. A loud pig grunt rings through the air, and we are thrust into action.

"Get 'em!" Jack commands. The hunters wail in exhilaration. So much for being quiet. Without hesitation, I dart to the bloodcurdling screams of the terrified pig. The state of affairs hardwired my brain like a festering sickness as the background completely faded, leaving me with tunnel vision on the pig . Its skin is shimmered with sweat, marred by dark splotches and wiry hair. My only objection was; Kill it. 

A voice returns in my mind, only this one is vastly different.

This voice belonged to a girl, a mythic bitch who lost her life to drain cleaner. Fucking drain cleaner. Chandler. Heather fucking Chandler.

If only she'd survived. If only I had even stopped to think.

The realization strikes me as that gruesome chant floods my ears as the rest of the boys sing it shamelessly.

'Kill the pig, spill its blood, kill the pig, spill its blood'

Blood. Such a substance. It means, life, and it means death. It can save lives, or just the lack of it could kill you. It's a scary kind of feeling, but it's so exhilarating how it roars.

I dodged the obstacles; leaping over logs and fallen trees. The scissoring of legs, and soles being worn thin as my feet pound the ground. A branch takes my ankle in its grasp, sucking me down to the ground. Landing hard on my stomach, my chin smacks down even harder with a thud. My jaws painfully slammed together, but the adrenaline medicated me. Picking myself up, I go into a full sprint.

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood! Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood!'

I can recognize two new voices that have joined Heather; Kurt Kelly and Ram Sweeney. 

Tree branches reach out to me, clawing my skin and shedding blood, desperate to stop me. I hear them screaming in my head as they trip me with their deracinated roots - Don't cross over the line! 

My breath comes in ragged gasps as I hone in on the pig darting ahead. It's small, yet plump body weaves through the underbrush, shrieking in panic. It sharpens my determination, feeding the wild hunger in my chest, an itch beneath my skin that demands to be scratched by this chase. 

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood!'

Vines and roots grab at my ankles, trying to make me collapse -- wanting to stop me from leading a cruel fate. My persistence tears through my better judgement. 

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood!'

I can feel the distance closing between the pig and I - my heart pounding in sync with my thudding footsteps, creating a primal rhythm. Fingers flexing, I leap, ready to pounce. I watch it all happen; my spear penetrating the air, taking a slice of flesh. A vision of red pairs the squeal.

I cut it! Holy shit, I cut it! I didn't impale it, I slashed it. The creature got away, but I wounded it. I did! My knuckles whiten at the thought as the ancient, savage thrill embraces me. 

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood!'

I momentarily pound my fist into the ground, criticizing myself for letting it get away. Hunters continued the chase, closely dodging around my body. Vibrations from their pounding footsteps in all directions seem to go in slow motion. Almost as soon I had hit the ground, Jack already abruptly yanked me to my feet, almost dislocating my shoulder. I hear a new voice join in with the chanting.

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood, bash its head, do em in!'

The whispered yell urges me on. It's Jason Dean without a doubt. His voice roars the loudest, right in my ear. No matter how fast you run, you can't escape the mental chanting. It follows me, remaining by my ear like a nagging fly. It makes the blood lust well up stronger with the red clouding my vision.

Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood, bash its head, do em in!'

I don't try to shake the voices away. All outside noises are drowned out. I hear JD, and the three people I let him kill. To compliment the voices, I hear blood. How do you hear blood? Well, I just hear blood.

I hear blood rushing in my ears like a river. It almost sounds like when you put your ear up to a shell, and you hear the 'ocean,' but it's just blood rushing.

'Kill the pig, cut its throat, spill its blood, bash its head, do em in!'

The chanting stops, along with the crowd. I snap back to reality as a battle cry slices through the atmosphere. It's Roger as he leaps up, knife in hand. The world narrows the space between himself and the animal. He viciously brings it down onto the terrified pig, before tumbling down to the ground. We all stumble a bit as we come to an abrupt halt. The red clouds fall like a curtain, sinking into the ground out of my vision.

It's like someone lopped Roger off at the knees. The twisted cringe etched on his face infers that he's likely seriously injured. Jack scrambles over and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Rog', you ok man? That was some jump." Jack checks in a calm voice.

"Got em," Roger grunted. He winced, holding his head in his hand. "...Right up his ass."

Even though the pig got away, cheers erupt from the hunters in triumph.

"Yeah!"
"Right up his ass!"
"Whoop! Whoop!"
"We'll get em next time!"

The group of younger boys continue the chant, poking at Robert with the butt end of their spears. He's unable to stand up as he's being surrounded by all the boys. I watch them in silence.

"Cut it out!" He cries out, trying to push away the spears. Robert swiftly jumps up, rubbing his lower back.

"You jerks! That hurt!" He spat. Robert is typically soft spoken. It takes a lot to tick him off.

"I know it hurt!" Sam or Eric giggle. The twin that hadn't made the remark roughly elbows his brother, and the one to receive the jab shoots a dirty look. I rub my chin, feeling a warm substance. Looking down at my hand, it's stained red. Must have been from when I busted my chin on the ground, and I hadn't noticed.

"You ok?" Robert softly asks.

"I'm fine." The response comes flat. In a moment of awareness, my hand slathers roughly across my face to scrub away some of the blood. A hiss of pain jerks through my lungs. I was so entangled with myself, that it took me the extra second to realize that someone was tapping my arm rapidly. My head snaps up in annoyance to Pablo trying to steal my attention.

"Look." He whispers while pointing in a direction. Dusting my hands, I pause and follow past his gesture to see what was the matter.

A hushed silence falls over the group, and all attention turns to Jack and Roger. Intrigued, I watch Jack take the knife, and dip his finger into the inky pig's blood.

Starting from a point near the corner of Roger's eye, he painted a long red line down and above his jaw. The blood glistened in the sunlight, yet to dry. I watch, dumbfounded as Jack gives himself the same marking on his own face.

"Veronica." Jack calls towards me, snapping me from my thoughts.

"Hm?"

He gestures for me to come forward. I sit on a log next to him so I can meet him at eye level. A wary expression freezes over my face as I watch him run his finger down the blade.

Turning to me slowly, he finger paints a crimson line down my cheek without my protest. The substance is warm on my skin.

I revel in the few moments of the blood getting smeared across my cheek.

"I want to be marked too!" Bill whines. I see Roger grimace at the high pitched voice.

"Me too!" Samneric say in unison, quickly throwing scathing glares to each other, evidently still sore about the last bit of banter. The air fills itself with similar phrases from the rest of the boys.

"That's not fair, I want the mark!" Henry pouts. 

"Yeah, me too!" 

"What's the deal, man?" 

"Yeah, come on!"

"Shut up!" Jack loud reprimand, half of a snarl, sliced cleanly over the surface of the group, making everyone freeze. Even my own breath hitches at the sudden outburst.

"Only people that cut the pig can be marked." Jack clarifies harshly. Another brave voice speaks up.

"But Veronica didn't-"

"-She did." 

I get some questionable looks and glares.

"As a matter of fact, she cut the pig first." Jack flashes me a charming smile. A few of the younger boys murmur to each other. Roger raises his brow at me. I couldn't read what his emotion is as he sits in the usual quiet disposition. As if on cue, Roger commends me in a low voice.

"Consider me impressed, Sawyer." I can't tell for the life of me if it was sarcastic.

"That was something." Jack whispers in astonishing approval. "I knew you had it in you."

I stew on his words for a moment. I knew you had it in you. What? The ability to harm a defenseless, living creature? Boo-yah to that, or whatever. What does he mean by that?

"That's enough for today, hunters. Let's move," he barks his orders over the sea of boys. They all begin to file out of the clearing, restless banter starting back up again. The identical voices of the twins fade off as they move. I can pick up on some of it, but now it's a bit rougher, angrier than before.

"- You shut the fuck up!"

"How 'bout you just leave me the fuck alone?"

"Then stop following me, you dork! That's all you do! Stop trying to do what I do!"

"I don't wanna do what you do!" 

"Then stop, shithead!"

I try to get up with the rest of the group to follow suit with Jack's orders, but a hand takes my shoulder and steers me to a halt. I turn around to see the charming blonde.

"I've never seen you so enthralled." He says in a teasing manner. I shrug, unsure of what to say. I've seen that side of me, not that I ever wanted to see it again.

"Really though, Veronica. You were like -- a whole different person. It was incredible." Should receiving praise from this be considered a good thing?

"Even Roger was impressed." At that I can see the boy shake his head to himself, muttering curses as he shoves past us both.

Turning to Jack, I sarcastically respond, "Yeah, he looks so impressed." I roll my eyes.

"No, really! It impressed me, Veronica."

"Of course you'd be impressed by that."

Replaying the scene in my head, I remember sprinting and my feet were in pain, plus I tripped a lot. Thorns and vines sliced my skin. Looking at my legs now, there were visible runs of dry blood. None of the lacerations were deep, but they stung a lot. Then again, I deserve it for allowing my mind to get that vicious all for nothing to come out of it.

Most importantly, I recall the chanting, then... Jack marked me with the pig's blood. Pig's blood?

"Jack-" I pause us both.

"What is it?"

"... Do I have fucking blood on my face...?" Disgust creeps across my skin and I scrunch my nose. Jack's eyes narrowed at me.

"... Yeah?"

I start frantically trying to scrub it away, heat formed between the friction, burning my skin raw. The blood was sticky, a cross between dry and liquid.

"It's gross!" I exclaim, wrinkling my nose. Jack laughs at my new attitude.

"What's the matter, princess? It's not the hundred dollar makeup you're used to?" He glints smugly at my struggle. Groaning out in frustration, I ignore his snide comments.

"Get it off, jerk."

He shakes his head. The blood is smearing faintly, but doesn't budge off my skin, now half-dry and gummed.

"It looks good on you." Jack teases, growing amused. The grin aggravated me even further.

"Jack!"

Judging by my situation, he wouldn't be aiding me and I'd have to live with blood on my face until I could get to the river to clean up. He reluctantly rubbed my cheek with his thumb, working the stripe off.

"Too bad. It won't come off." he smirks. I huff a sigh of frustration. "I need to wash it off by the river." I begin to walk past him, before he gently grabs my arm to stop me.

"Well, all of the others will most likely be there swimming, causing a chaos." His voice trailed off. He grabbed my hands, pulling me closer to him. 

"I know you hate that," he assumes.

"And?" I quiz him critically. "There's more than one body of water here, you know." I slink out of his hold to stroll past.

"We can wait a while." He insinuates. I open my mouth to talk, but I get thrown off guard by the ghost of a lustful expression that hasn't left his face. He's clearly doing it on purpose. Disregarding it, I let my situation set in.

"Jack?"

"What?"

"I don't understand how my life went from living a life in Ohio, to crashing in the ocean."

He buzzes his lips. "And is that so bad?"

I purse my lips. "Life's always been chaotic I guess."

"-Chaos is what killed the dinosaurs, darling." he cut me off, smugly grinning. I clench my jaw.

"I think it was an asteroid," I roll my eyes to humor him. Jack picks up a rock as I say that.

"I'm no history major." He raised his hands in defense, tossing the rock against a tree. I groan in exasperation.

"Seriously. We're stranded." I emphasize. "Has that not sent you spiraling once?"

He shakes his head simply. "Nah. It's better to not waste time worrying about the things you can't control."

I take in that phrase, leaning back against a tree while Jack chucks rocks into the foliage somewhere off to my right.

"It's not about how it could've been avoided," I say indifferently. "I mean- how are you not fazed in the slightest?" I look over to him in my flustered state. He pauses the rock throwing.

"Vera, stop overthinking it."

"You're under thinking it!" I push off the tree. How is he so content?? He snickers to himself and tosses his last rock away.

"C'mon..." he strides over to me. "It's paradise, ain't it? Just relax." Jack plants his hands on my shoulders. Crossing my arms, I sigh and look away.

"Our love is God." He whispers, looking at me suggestively. I glare up at him.

"Is it?"

Jack takes my chin in his hand, forcing my gaze at an upward angle, and brushes a thumb over my fruit punch lips. He then shrugs with even energy. 

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

The sun is setting. A dark haze creeps over the island. The moon reflects itself onto the surface of the black ocean. It resembles a distorted pearl, dancing with the ripples of the sea. Twinkles of light flash up from the moving waves, barely hovering over the mysterious depths.

Like we do most nights, we all sit around the fire, listening to Jack's horror stories. The dark red stripe imprinted on his cheek appears distinctly with the illumination from the fire. Sparks twirl with the suffocating smoke, rising up to the obsidian sky. I trace my finger over the red line on my face. I can feel how the blood spread was uneven in some areas. It's dry, and my skin feels numb to the touch of where the marking was.

Red is such a loud color.

I don't want this. I don't see it as a memento, it's a negative reminder of bloodlust.

"You went hunting today?" Ralph questions quietly. I nod, keeping my eyes locked on the blaze ahead of me.

"With Jack?" He presses harder. His eyes bore the side of my face with such crucial intent. I nod again, not saying anything. 

"Is that blood?" His finger points to the crimson streak that trailed down to my jaw.

"Yes." That's the only word I say. My intention isn't to blow him off, but I know I haven't given him the time of day like I should. 

"Ralph, I'm sorry." The ghosted words are barely audible over the crackling fire. He blinks a few times, staring at me, like he isn't sure he caught what I said.

"I'm sorry if I've been ignoring you, I mean." I look at him sidelong, pressing my lips together somewhat somberly.

"You're okay, Veronica." 

"I keep blowing people off and I'm not meaning to," I sigh, diverting my eyes to the fire. 

"I should be checking in on you."

"I appreciate you saying that." He speaks genuinely. He's more... forgiving than I expected. He's polite, and I don't feel it's something I deserve.

"I promise I'll catch up with you," I swear.

"Why not catch up with me now?" He chuckles for the hell of it all. I crack a smile and glance down shyly.

"I don't know what fresh news there is to tell you," I say honestly. 

"It's been pretty routine. You?"

"Same here." Ralph flicks some pebbles into the fire. Looking at him now, he reminded me of one those guys you'd see in a movie. Good-looking, sure, some might even call him "boyfriend material." He had the fluffy brown hair, tan skin, and a chiseled structure with a firm yet kind face. But I think he's overall respectful enough.

"I thought we'd be rescued by now. It's been weeks." He buzzes his lips in boredom.

"We gotta be patient." I point out. "And if we keep doing what we're doing, it'll be so worth it when we get back home."

"You're right." He nods. "What's the first thing you'll do when we get back?"

I don't even have to pause to think to know my answer for that.

"Definitely a two hour shower and a ten hour nap in my bed." I muse dreamily at the thought before turning to look at him.

"And I'll need a drink or two," I add, humorously. Ralph is quick to laugh at that one. 

"Cheers to that," he commends. I smile at the thought then toss the question back at him. 

"What about you?"

"I'd probably meet up with my old friend-turned-pen-pal." He responds briskly, like he, too didn't have to think about it.

"Me and her used to be pretty close before she moved," he explains, a distant look in his face. However, my intrigue was heightened.

"When she moved, we started writing every day, and I'd call her every night that I could. It's kind of hard to do that at a military boarding school, of course."

"Am I hearing about a long distance love interest?" I arch a teasing brow, elbowing him. Ralph cracks a smile and shrugs.

"You tell me." He combs his fingers back through her hair. "Though she probably thinks I'm dead by now."

We fall into silence. Ralph doesn't disclose anything else about this mystery girl, but it gets me to thinking about my parents. Have they had a funeral for me? Surely there would be a search party, right? Would they even send out a search party if they knew the plane lost signal over the ocean? What's my family thinking?

"It's gonna be one hell of a reunion," I mumble under my breath, staring off into space.

"It'll be worth it, like you said."

I nod in agreement, nudging Ralph's arm. 

"Especially when you get back to see the girl you've been pining over all this time, waiting for you at the end of this." I tease him. The brunette shook his head - his eyes flashing into a quick roll. He was failing at masking his close-lipped grin. 

We mutually decide to agree on that optimistic idea and let ourselves fall into silence. I hope everything's okay at home. I hope my parents haven't lost hope. I want to see them again more than ever, and I was so quick to brush them off at the airport. I can say I regret it now.

Now, I'm likely suffering psychosis or something with these voices in my head and visions that hit me during the most inconvenient of times. My past has come to haunt me, present day.

"Where's Simon?" I speak up to penetrate the silence. Ralph's mouth contorted to a confused frown.

"He's on the beach, by the shore." His head gestured to the direction. I sat to think for a few moments before standing up.

"Thanks." I mutter, then quickly catch myself and turn back around. 

"Talk later?" 

"Yeah, talk later." Ralph says, quirking the corner of his mouth. 

After walking for a bit, I can see Simon gazing out to the ocean. I jog over to him, my feet sinking into the warm sand with every step. I slow my pace as my distance from the innocent boy got shorter, taking careful steps, approaching behind him.

"Hi, Veronica." he calls out softly. Funny how he automatically knows it's me without actually seeing my face. Then again, i'm really the only one that just talks to him just out of the blue.

"Hi," I respond shortly. "How are you?" I can't keep the tremble damned from my voice. I sit down next to him, keeping my study on the calm waves. He catches the wavering in my voice.

"Are you okay?"

I don't answer him right away, and instead take a deep breath so my thoughts can be conveyed to words.

"Is that blood?" He points to my cheek. Numbness washes over me as I ran my fingers over the stripe, then quickly brush away the concern, ignoring his question.

"I think I'm going crazy or something- I just... Need to understand." Fingers curl, clutching the brooch pinned on my clothing. A thumb rubs over it, as if it could provide some knowledge.

"Why do you think you're going crazy?"

"I keep hearing voices." The spill of words water the concerned expression on Simon's face. I stare at the gold sand with my breathing jumping to different speeds. 

"You ever seen someone ruin their own life?" I try to force a laugh through hefty chokes. The boy tilts his head. 

"What do you mean?" 

"What I mean is," I take a deep breath. "It's my fault that my life has been all fucked up."

His stare persistently drills me with innocent curiosity. Rubbing my hands over my face, I let out a muffled groan. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Please, never involve yourself with a mysterious social-reject just because you want to be different." 

"I am a social reject." He replies dully, remaining stationary. A helpless smile breaks across my face as I shake my head. 

"Not like that, Simon." I let out a hearty laugh, momentarily making the knot of dread dissipate in my chest.

"Jason Dean, he, uh," my words slip from my throat and flitter to the ground. "He was, um, a disaster waiting to happen."

"Is this about his death?" His soulful expression twists into a look of empathy, trying to remain sensitive. I bite the inside of my cheek and repress a bitter smile of resentment. 

"It's about the deaths he caused." 

Pressing my lips together, I collect myself to regain my natural air. I swallow the knot in my throat and force the painfully fake persona back up that seems so well-natured.

"That... he caused?" 

My heart wedges itself into my jugular at his question. 

"He killed a few students at my high school." Those wounded words crawl from my lips and die at my feet. Coming free so eloquently. Simon's face is frozen and blank. No specific emotion is quite tangible enough. Then, I see it develop like a polaroid picture; a smile dusting across his face-- not one of amusement, but a look of confusion as his brows knit. 

"What?" He chuckles, shaking his head. I look him in the eye, sending the message across. His faint laughs go brittle with every breath when he understands.

"Oh." 

I nod curtly and look away. 

"Oh." His jaw falls slack, and the weight of those words sink in. 

"Mhm."

Such a look falls over his gaze, a variety of emotions passing over. 

"I'm... sorry?" 

"You don't need to apologize to me," I quickly cut in. "I'm sorry if that was- uh, too much for me to say." 

Problem is; no one should apologize to me. Not when I helped play a part in those dark acts. Not when I am the reason for the death of my best friend. 

I truly wish the only outcome of her drinking the drain cleaner was spewing red, white, and blue.

"No, you're fine," Simon finally responds, looking somewhat put-off. Who can blame him?

"But that... that must've been really hard for you to find out." 

"That my boyfriend was a murderer?" I raise a brow. "It's not exactly a walk through the park." 

I only found out the hard way.

"Just be careful about the people you meet, Simon." I warn drearily, letting my eyes fall closed. My head tiredly shakes side to side. 

"Don't let this world corrupt you." 

"I don't even think you're corrupt, either," he mows over my sentiment. "His actions say nothing about you." 

Sweet, sweet Simon. I don't address those words. I just look at him, shame slicing my bones into pieces as I force a smile into my straight-lined lips. Simon presents a small quirk of the mouth back awkwardly, not really knowing what to do.

We stay this way for a few more moments. 

"Sorry if I've completely ruined your perception of me." I try to dapple in a bit of forced humor. He cracks a smile, a real one this time.

"I'll never look at you differently."

"Maybe you should."

The vague statement hangs in the air. 

"You should get some rest." Simon suggests, probably unsure of what else to say. I think my presence has shaken him. Even now, he's not quite as easy in my company. 

"Oh-" my words stumble. I look at him warily. "You coming with?" I already assume his answer. He gazes out at the sea, breathing in sync with it.

"I'm staying out a while longer. I need to think."

I sigh, standing for a few moments before speaking up.

"Good night, Simon."

"Good night, Veronica."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

I wander back to the group of boys. For the most part, they all have settled down, and casually share life stories. Most little ones have retreated back to their shelters. Piggy and Ralph speak amongst each other, blocking out most of the other conversations. Roger is sharpening his spear with a hunting knife, making a pretty impressive point. He glances up at me upon my arrival. Saying nothing, not even flashing a glare, he goes back to his work.

Jack, on the other hand, stares intently into the flames, his jaw clenched. A gold glare is cast on his face. He looks almost menacing in the light. I sit next to him, and say nothing. He clearly isn't going to speak. Just as that thought goes by, he quickly defies it, whispering that one phrase; a familiar one that I dread.

"Our love is God."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟎

𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐎𝐡𝐢𝐨

Poetry has been a pleasure I've always confided in. Whether it would be whimsical notions of bliss or terror-stricken episodes with JD, it always went on paper. From yestertime, I could always rely on it.

Now, with weeping eyes and a flashing pencil, I threw out a splurge of words that bloomed into a poem, sourcing from an event that took place no more than just a few hours ago.

A breath of air sucked into my lungs at a deafening click of the door opening which broke the second-natured solitude. My preoccupied gaze dragged over to the doorway that immediately slammed closed and sent a bang ricocheting off the bare walls.

Jason Dean briskly sliced his path out, ultimately choosing to ignore me. I expelled an agitated breath, not unfamiliar with being ignored during these moods. The inadequate details of the last argument were still imprinted in my brain. I pursed my lips sourly and folded my arms over my chest. Sitting into my hip disdainfully, I surveyed his fuming demeanor.

"Still taking after your daddy with this silent treatment, huh?" I assume with a raised brow. "Suppose I was right about him."

JD kept his back to me while he fiddled with his trinket that was a poor excuse for a stereo.

"Shut your trap, Ronnie," he growled. My spine straightened at the nickname being uttered.

"You'd better think twice before the next time you whine over another shitty person dwelling on this God forsaken planet that you insist on keeping here." The saturnine teen pivoted on his heel, his coat flaring at the sharp turn. My breath left through my nostrils as I stilled.

"We're not playing a game of 'God,' JD."

My words stopped him in his tracks, and he sighed like I interfered with his nonexistent schedule.

"We don't choose who lives or dies," my head turned to view his back, frozen in space. His constant desire to lie and kill was endless. I didn't know what else I intended to say. Insults danced on my tongue that were barricaded back by my teeth.

"Even when Heather-Fucking-Duke made up that threeway rumor about you?" He referenced stoically, whipping around. A clump of dread clogged my windpipe.

"Or when she challenged 'Yellow Heather' to off herself? Evil fucks don't deserve to live. Why is it not worth fighting back?"

A flimsy curtain flickered in my brain. I stuttered, not processing the severity of his words. His darkness toyed with my perceptions of everything.

You are a drug
You are a poison pill
I've got to kick this habit now
Or else I never will
I loved the rush
When you would hold me close
But you will not be satisfied
until I overdose

"It is NOT about what it's worth-" I countered and made a stride in his direction. "- Or what you believe is worthy, JD, because I am done."

He gave a brief nod and clicked his tongue.

"Let me ask you a question."

"No." I shook my head hastily. "No, we're not repeating this limbo today."

It appeared he was trying to control his anger, and it was intoxicating. His scent filled my nose with our new closeness.

"Veronica-"

"No!"

I shoved past him. A hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. My head angrily snapped towards him, but he wouldn't unhand me.

"If you would just open your eyes, you would see the power you have. Having me on your side is power, Veronica Sawyer. Some of us have it, some of us don't."

I scoffed in disbelief, a shaky crack in my voice broke through. All while his masculine scent coiled around my tongue.

"Why did you grab me?" I yanked away. "Oh, my God, JD. Martha was right about you."

The words were a revelation. A truth I was finally acknowledging.

"This is your fault!" He argued in a husky voice. "You're leaving me no choice!"

"You don't get a fucking choice!" The shrill words dismantled him momentarily, but his faltered expression soon recovered. I had a childish urge to spat in his face when I noted the calm simper ever-growing on his lips.

"How about you calm down, and we can have a real conversation."

"Oh, my God," I moaned, gripping my hair. My eyelids squeezed shut hard enough to the point that I could see a vision of static.

"Martha was right about you, and I broke her heart and chased her off."

He chuckled darkly.

"Oh, pish-pish." He waved me off dismissively. "If you wanna talk, Sawyer, then let's talk."

"Shut up." I clambered to my bearings with difficulty. With that, I turned on my heel.

This is it
Hit the brake
I am finally awake
Let me be, let me go
You need the help I can't provide
I am not qualified
This troubled teen is getting clean
I say no.

"Oh yeah!" He drawled, baiting me from behind. "Because walking away from your problems really stitches up the damages."

His voice dripped with perfect sarcasm.

"You're not one to be talking about damages!" I stamped my foot. "You're a sick fuck. I am ending things right here. I can't with you anymore."

Chest heaving, I pressed my fingers to my temples to find my bearing, paving back and forth.

His smug smirk fell, but I couldn't study it long as I immediately went to make my exit again. I heard the pounding of footsteps running up before he ripped me around and steered me to a halt.

I can't say a word when his lips immediately crash into mine. Feverish fingers dug into the crook of my waist and the tender flesh of my thighs. I didn't reciprocate. I resisted. I muffled protests into his smothering mouth as his closed lips suctioned onto mine. My failing arms tried to pry out of his hold, but he snaked his grasp on me tighter. I whined in pain when it began to hurt too much, and JD finally shoved me away in spite of himself. The floodgates of my words burst open.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"Don't leave me alone, Veronica."

He fell to his knees. I sputtered out at the insanity of it, looking down at him with judgement at this pathetic display.

"Don't leave me like everyone else."

"You're psychotic."

"Don't do it!" With a roar, he flashed up to his feet. Before I could understand what was happening, a pop reverberated through the air, and the stereo exploded. I looked at him with a horrified face of shock. JD's arm was still extended out after shooting the thing with his gun.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What?" He defended, raising his hands and shaking the gun as if to taunt. "It's just a mindless, fun stress-reliever."

"It is not 'fun'!" I shrieked, practically jumping on my toes. "You're carrying a loaded weapon!"

A throaty breath escaped through the gasps of my mouth. Not quite a sob, but something close to it.

This is it
Hit the brake
Call it all my mistake
Long as you let me go
You need help I can't provide
I'm not Bonnie, and you're not Clyde
It's not too late for me to get on straight
And I say no

He was not expecting tears to gloss over my cheeks. The surrealness was far too much. He paused within a few short strides of my weeping frame. A twisted look of perplexity was etched in his expression. The ceiling light caught two droplets that dripped into my veil of hair, now strewn over my own face in this insanity.

I scolded myself for acting so spineless. I forgot to act angry for a moment, and my walls fell. My crying should serve him nothing less than pleasure.

"Why the hell are you still here!?" I barked sharply at the stupefied boy. My scowl grew when he pathetically flinched at my reprimand. He only shook his head with stubborn persistence.

"Don't you dare walk out on me now, Ronnie." He breathed with widened eyes. "We need to finish what we've begun."

Ignoring him, I sleeved away my tears and made my way out again, and groaned when he blocked my path. I tried to move past him.

"JD, stop. It's over, okay?"

"Don't weep your tears now," he bore into my soul. I sniffled and tried to shuffle around him.

"Let me through-"

"You've always been too weak for me." He taunted like it would earn a satisfying reaction. "But here's the thing; I'm weak without you, Ronnie. I was meant to be yours."

"Leave me alone!" My words were gargled as I heaved with a burning chest. "Please," I begged.

"No," he chirped simply, and sneered a smile of content that contrasted greatly to my gradually shattering state. He was more than off-putting, and I looked fucking pitiful as hell.

"What do you say?" He held out a hand. "Be my partner in crime again?"

His voice was rasped, and it plunged into my chest like a steak knife. The words sliced down to my heart and clamped the fleshy organ between two fingers. He sounded hopeful, innocent even. Like the version of him missed. In fact, the well-put façade almost swayed me for a moment. I look at him with a soft expression for a dose of his false hope, and immediately pulled my hand back.

Silence followed after my open palm struck his cheek. He gingerly touched his red face before setting his jaw. I sucked my tongue to the roof of my mouth, unsure of how to act.

"Color me impressed," he smirked. I grimaced and shoved him back.

"MOVE!"

"Ronnie-"

"No! I'm letting you go! We're over!"

I diverted direction to exit a different way. He was quick to follow. I should have relished the slap I gave him. I was supposed to feel victorious for the accomplishment by ridiculing him. But I forgot to. It didn't come.

"Wait- let's talk, baby!"

I neared the patio door, my hand was already extending out.

"God! Take it up with my dad! He made me this way!" My eyes flashed in a gaudy roll. He quickly rethought his ideas.

"Wait, no! Let's talk about Heather Duke!"

I halted again. "No. Let's talk about you."

He blinked rapidly in place, goggling his eyes like an owl.

"You're a sick fuck who gets pleasure out of harming people. I will not be used as a prop for these little missions anymore. I will NOT be your accomplice ever again. You infected my mind when I was most vulnerable, and took advantage of my state. You're bad news, JD. I want you out of my fucking life right now. I'd sooner dance on your grave than take you back. I don't care if you get on your God damn knees, begging for forgiveness like the pathetic dog you are. Let me go, right now. Martha was right about you. HEATHER was even right about you. I should have known."

I examined his features. His cheeks were smeared with tears, as were mine. Eyes bloodshot crimson. Skin pale and clammy. His stare leaked with pleading desperation that made me want to laugh for the hell of it all. It felt foreign to see him like this -- with parted lips to reveal a line of dents that he incessantly chewed like a mad man.

"Ronnie..." he whispered shakily. I eyed him, stone faced, my last dollop of sympathy for him ran dry.

"Who else is gonna be-"

"No, no, no!" I sporadically waved my hands in front of me.

Don't say another word
You speak and I cave in
You'll twist the truth again
Drill down deep beneath my skin

"You said you'd change." I asserted, staring him down begrudgingly. "And I actually believed you. But you used me to justify all the harm you caused on other people. Did you even think about their families?" I squint surreptitiously.

He began to walk towards me with that same façade. "Baby, come on!"

"No." I shook my head, and walked straight up to him, chest to chest.

"Blame your childhood... blame your dad, JD. Blame the life you never had. But hurting people? That's your choice."

I believe that love will win
And hate will earn you nothing in the end

"This is the end of 'us,' JD."

Before I could blink, the barrel of his gun pointed against my abdomen.

"But I love you!"

He gasped and ripped the gun away like he was surprised with himself for the aggressive outburst. I stared at him with eyes widened to the size of saucers.

He looked so much more... inhumane. It must be the unhinged glint in his eyes, or the sadistic stance he held up. Or maybe it's the disturbing twitch to his vile smirks that were imprinted into my eyelids. Lifting my chin in the same old contrived poise, I answered him.

"Goodbye, JD."

This is it
I won't cry
Starting now, I will try
To pay back
All the karma I owe
Start again
Somewhere new
Far from cool guys like you
So goodbye, because now
I'm saying no.
Just in time
I say no.

"This isn't goodbye yet, Sawyer."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟏, 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

♕︎♕︎♕︎

You've misplaced your mind, but you lost it a long time ago.