𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

Time.

The indefinite, ever-moving development of our existence and events of the past, present, and future all regarded as a whole.

Time is unbroken and forever unfolding. Its laws remain grounded. Durations of time are set in stone. Seconds, minutes, hours, and so on. They never change. At least not till now.

One thing about the island, is that it defies those laws. Time moves slowly here, and I'm beginning to doubt that it's only in a figurative sense rather than literal.

Time unfolds far slower than it should, allowing this grimy build up of tension to have more leg room in our anxious minds. A singular second is equivalent to a minute here - what should be sixty seconds.

Piggy and I stare at the ground distantly, our heartbeats syncing with the ticking of a clock. My fingers tangled themselves up in knots as the hazy fog clouding my ears began to dissipate.

The anticipated idea of rescue should have already arrived, but it has drifted away like a plank of wood on a body of water. Now, we wait for the conch to attract a certain group of painted hunters. My eyes heavily drift up to pick out a certain lone twin who was sitting across from Piggy and I. A sad expression is plastered across the features of his face that I normally associate with mischief and happiness. I drop my head to the side and adjust my stance, pretty much forcing myself into his line of focus.

That finally cues him to speak.

"Sam was supposed to be on fire watch," Eric spoke out of the blue. "He... he was supposed to be there- with Jack and Rapper. And... and a few of the others, but- don't know."

My expression is unwavering. Poor Eric must be in some form of shock, stammering nonsense with wide eyes. I don't know what I'm supposed to answer with. Jack did this. Despite the more intimate relationship I've imparted on with him, no one can deny that he's at fault. He had no right to take an opportunity like that away from any of them.

An enthusiastic rumble off in the jungle opposes our somber ambience greatly as whoops of celebration can be heard in the jungle. Whoops of ignorance. Ignorance is bliss. They should consider themselves lucky that they didn't have to suffer the glimmer of false hope that we did. They didn't have to watch their one ticket home be crushed. To be acting so happy- to even be celebrating at a time like this is pure ignorance. Their hollers and chants are quickly approaching the treeline, making Piggy jump at the notice. Ralph continues pacing back and forth in an irritated manner, mumbling here and there.

"Ralph! Veronica! You won't believe this!" Jack's voice finally breaks the air that once created a slight distance between us.

Hearing Jack's upbeat attitude rubs me the wrong way. Eric's eyes drift up from the ground to the nearing hunters, devoid of any emotion.

Simon sat to the far left of the platform and didn't show any signs of anger or what would necessarily be defeat, just sadness.

"We killed the pig, we cut its throat, we spilled its blood!"

The stupid chant finally ends as the painted boys stand upon us, holding their first kill, roped up. I recoil at the pig's stinking corpse that has flies hungrily buzzing around it.

"Vera! Look!" Jack springs over while I keep my gaze focused ahead and away from him. He can frown all he wanted for all I care.

"Sit down, right now." Ralph demands firmly. Jack ignores, and tries to grab my shoulders to get me excited over the news. A mosaic of blood and charcoal distastefully streaks in thick lines down his cheeks

"Ralph! Vera! We killed a pig!" He exclaims. "We hunted it! We hunted it through the trees and we killed it! Isn't that great!?"

Ralph stood tall, straight-faced like a statue, finally resembling the Colonel figure he was titled as.

"You let the fire out." The monotonous phrase doesn't quite deliver so effectively, barely scraping the surface of their joy-filled adrenaline.

"You should have seen the blood!" Sam opens his arms to show off the red stains on his once white shirt. "There was so much of it!"

I see the twins make eye contact momentarily before Eric snapped his gaze elsewhere, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"You should have seen the way it squealed while the blood sprayed!" Luke jumps in, sharing a solid high-five with Jack. Seeing this, I rub my hands over my face.

"You let. The goddamn. Fire. Out." Ralph repeats. That finally catches the blonde boy's attention. With Jack suddenly taking notice, it triggers a domino effect for the hunters to pause as well, deciphering whether or not they should continue to dance and chant in enthusiasm.

"It's ok." Jack assures. "We can light it again. But we killed the pig! Isn't that great?" He's practically jumping on his feet, and the hunters reboot back into their mind-clouded joy.

"The fire, Jack. You let it out." The chief steps closer, more menacingly this time. Jack scoffs, catching onto Ralph's seriousness and brushes it off again.

"Yeah, yeah. We heard ya' the first time, Colonel." He smacks him a few times on the shoulder. "But at least we have the pig, and then next time we'll-"

"There was a helicopter!"

The ball drops, and the air suddenly hangs heavy like a clump of mud. It clogs my throat and halts my breathing as the air bloats with the strenuous repetition of Ralph's words. 

"There was a helicopter, and you let the fire out." 

The once excited voices have fallen against the void of the jungle at those harrowing words. 

Our chief tosses the conch over to me. I sharply catch the object midair and stare at it, feeling dumbfounded. The shell is as smooth as it was the day we found it. The stripes and speckles are still in the same painted position, keeping its natural design undisturbed. My thin fingers trace one of the swirls as I let out a sigh of exasperation.

A crest-fallen expression sinks over Jack's face, and he begins visibly shaking while rethinking some choices.

"Are you serious?" The whisper hushes through his very being, seeping through his skin.

"Ask your girlfriend." 

Jack turns to me to confirm his suspicion, desperately clawing at dirt for diamonds that will help him buy his way out of this predicament. After all he's consumed with his greed, he only digs up quartz of disappointment as I swallow my curses down before answering.

"Don't you get it, Jack?" I say, low and quiet. "There was a helicopter. It's gone."

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my eyes begin to burn with tears. Jack on the other hand exhales sharply, finally sitting down in disbelief with the rest of his group. 

"Hey, man. I-I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry." His broken apology buffers into weak justification. "It's not the only helicopter we'll see. Lesson learned. We'll just relight it, and- and everyone can calm down."

"Calm down?" Ralph loudly repeats as if Jack's nervous attempt to fix the debacle was a threat to bomb a school. "If you had just kept your position we would've had a fucking fire. Maybe then - just maybe - we would've had a chance at getting out of here, Merridew. But now that chance is gone, and it's all you and your hunters' faults."

"This is not my fucking fault," Jack retorts, grasping at straws with his argument. "I did everything I could, I followed all of your orders, kept things moving, and it still didn't work." 

"Kept things moving?" Ralph repeats, squinting his eyes through the impenetrable stupidity. "What the hell did you do other than go off with your girl and parade around like a God damn clown?" 

"Don't bring her into this," Jack cuts him off flatly. 

"No," Ralph shakes his head. "I'm not bringing her into this. You brought her into this shit, Jack." His raised volume actually startles me for a second as he strides forward. "It is because of you that she and all of the rest of us are still stuck here for who knows how long."

Jack watches, face frozen like a stone sculpture as it absorbs all of Ralph's firm words. One by one, the truth hits the hunters square in the face. It resembles how I imagine Ralph would run drills. There's no flinch. No break. Just brutal endurance as they are subdued by their own consequences. The brunette exhales sharply and tears himself away, pacing a few times in a stiff manner. 

I look at Jack; the eye of the storm. I know that within a few passing moments the sudden stillness will be blown over by the dead fury of a raging storm. 

Everyone is drowning in a perpetual silence that's slowly freezing over and locking us beneath the surface. Now stationary, Ralph looks back up at the silent hunters as if they're awaiting a command. 

"We were so close, Jack," Ralph utters, dangerously quiet. "We were nearly off this hellhole."

Jack doesn't blink. "You're right," he says, matching Ralph's venomous disposition. 

"We were nearly off because a copter came by. We were nearly off, because of your fire watch plan. We were nearly off because you tried dragging the military academy off-grid so you could still play leader. But now this-" He gestures to the hunters, then the rest of us.

"This group is breaking. Why?" He takes a deliberate step forward. "Because we are being run by someone who doesn't know one thing about how to properly lead a group of people, who doesn't care about what his people need - and is still bending the knee to an imaginary law. This group is falling apart because you, Ralph..."

Jack's voice turns to a serrated knife, diving blade-first into the freezing water, cutting through the ice.

"Because you're a pathetic, spineless fucking bitch. Now who's fault is that?"

At those words, Ralph in front of Jack in a mere second. Face to face, eye to eye, man to man. There's something greater than anger dwelling between them now. His voice comes dragged up from the pits of fiery hell to burn up the blue-tinged dusk remaining constant under the shade of the jungle that's looming just yards away.

"You fucked us, Merridew. We are fucked." The words slice open a fresh wound. Jack shoves him back as I silently beg him to not pull the knife out, or worse.

"We? No." Jack scoffs, a bitter twist of fury crackling across his poised mouth. "You. You are fucked."

Anger visibly coils in Jack's state of mind. It twitches in his jaw and clenches his fists like he's backing the urge to suddenly strike. 

"The fire was your idea from the start. You turned away, and it died. You want to put the blame on someone? Take a look at yourself, Wheeler. As for the rest of us; we're done with this shit."

"What are you talking about?" My words collapse through the glass separating me from the old bonds they once shared. They all turn to look at me. 

"What it means," says Jack. "Is that I'm done." He looks Ralph in the eye once more. "I'm going to my own end with my own hunters. You want to join? Fine, but we're going by my rules. Rest of you can fuck off for all I care."

"Really?" Ralph stares at him as disbelief morphs into anger. "You think this is what it means to lead a group? To turn heel when something doesn't go your way? To throw a tantrum when someone calls you out and tells you like it is? You're being stupid, Merridew. We were supposed to work together."

Jack, still hiding behind his painted face, curls his mouth into a scowl. The hunters sit in vapid anticipation as they observe the two angered boys before them with a sort of primal instinct being unlocked.

"I know you think you're filling your father's shoes day-by-day," the steady words spill free from Jack's lips without a thought. "But he is just another man that got wounded in war and came home. And you?" 

Jack steps closer, tilting his head. "You think you're carrying on his legacy? You survived a plane crash, not a war. There's nothing you're going to inherit, no matter what you think."

Jack leans in, voice snapping like oil against a hot pain.

"Your father was just another weak fucking bitch, and you're-"

A crack rings out through the air as Ralph's fist connects with Jack's left cheek. The words triggered something like a strained spring being popped loose.

With all his force, Jack kicks Ralph hard in the gut, knocking him down. I cry out by how aggressive it is, but he quickly recovers from the hard blow.

He pulls Jack in by the shoulder and uppercut punches his jaw, only infuriating the blonde more. When Jack turns his head back to a neutral position, that's when I see the trickle of blood.

Ralph gets tackled. I watch as they pitifully roll around in a knot of fists and flying limbs. Surprisingly, no one makes a move to act on the arduous deal of breaking them apart. Jack dominates the chief and delivers punch after punch in blind rage, not thinking about the consequences. Blood splatters to the ground next to them, tainting the sand. Frantic, Piggy screams for them to stop, but the attempt doesn't have an effect.

When he finally gets a hint of movement, Ralph wraps his leg around to flip over, and holds Jack down by his chest. It's hard to watch him thrash under the restraint. Karma finally kissed his ass when the chief punched back, splitting Jack's eyebrow.

Piggy stole my attention, appearing to be on the verge of tears. I raise my hands to calm him down. It wasn't the biggest deal. We both stop and freeze when Ralph clutches a handful of blonde hair and heaves him up to his feet before delivering one more right hook. With a twisted expression, Jack manages to shove Ralph back down, and kicks him repeatedly in the chest.

Pathetic. Absolutely unbearable to watch them embarrassingly tackle each other to the ground like it can somehow reverse time and solve the issue. I roll my eyes. We're supposed to stay unified, but this doesn't help shit. Wincing at every blow, I try to speak at them.

"Both of you get your heads out of your fucking asses." I demand promptly. Ralph jumps back up and delivers another punch to Jack's nose.

"Veronica, shut the fuck up!" Jack loudly yells back, likely because he wasn't wanting any distractions. I inhale a breath and start a march forward to give him a piece of my mind, but I jerk back suddenly at the next move -- He served Ralph a hard blow to the head. Piggy then lunges forward out of defense for his friend.

"Stop it, now!" The weaker boy feebly attempts. Merridew shoves him to the ground, allowing our chief to take the moment for recovery.

I know good and well that Piggy won't last one second in a fight with Jack. As soon as the blonde yanks Piggy up by the collar of his shirt, I dart to his aid. Not the best idea.

Pushing Piggy out of the way, I don't know what hits me as a painful strike sends me down on my knee, tossing my neck unnaturally.

The backhand that Jack threw had been meant for Piggy, but I got it instead. I've processed it fully now, and what the fuck... My cheek stings like hell, and a cramping sensation engulfs my neck. Groaning, I touch the now sensitive area and hiss in pain. Ralph and Piggy rush over to help me up, and I meet Jack's horrified gaze.

The boy stares at me, wide eyed and shaking his head a few times in shock while everyone's adrenaline rush subsides. Setting my jaw, my hands lower away from my cheek. My dark hair has fallen over my eyes, and a glare darkens over my face as I slowly walk over to Jack. I've never wanted to slap the shit out of him more than I do right now.

"Veronica- I- I didn't mean- It wasn't supposed to-"

Silence followed after my hand made contact with his face, leaving the hue of a red mark in the vague shape of a hand.

"Don't act like you didn't deserve that," I mutter through gritted teeth. Jack clenches his jaw, and keeps his eyes closed, inhaling a breath of air through his nose.

Roger stands up at an instant, making big strides in my direction. Not even Jack would have noticed the tall boy's action quick enough.

"You little bitch-" Using a fist, he pulled back and launched a blow that struck harder than Jack's backhand. With the force being so great, and happening so suddenly -- I did not realize that I'd hit the ground right away. Ralph curses out and knelt at my side. Blinking, I was left stunned. Small stones punctured my skin on impact, popping small beads of blood from my arm.

Flashing up from the ground, Ralph's voice rips into the air. 

"Hey, hey, hold it!" His arms shoot out, shoving the dark-haired boy back by the chest. Roger is still charging at me, but Jack takes action by forcefully yanking him back by the shoulder.

"Back the fuck up, Rog'!" He bellowed and jabbed the more aggressive boy in the chest with an elbow, sending him stumbling back a few feet. In courtesy of the big irons rings that hugged Roger's knuckles, a huge cut etched into my cheek bone. As I was becoming more aware of what happened, the hot pain grew more apparent. Gingerly, my finger tips grazed the throbbing wound.

Ralph's stride doesn't cease. I see the red, hot anger fuming in his stature as he moves past Jack towards Roger. Jack quickly steps between the two to keep them from colliding, shoving them both apart. 

"You back the fuck off, too, Ralph!" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ralph snarls, stumbling back to my side. "Your own friend just attacked your girl, you fucking asshole!"

"The bitch had it coming," Luke is quick to interject, though unprompted.

After arguing with my attacker, Jack turns back to me and Ralph -- A word forms on his lips like he's contemplating what to say, but no sound leaves his mouth. Instead, he turns back to everyone else.

"I'm done with this crap!" The blonde starts yelling louder, getting close up to some individual faces. Piggy wrinkles his nose in disgust. 

"In the new camp; there's no bullshit, no weakness!"

"No," I say barely above a whisper with shock evident in my voice. 

"We'll hunt and have meat. No more useless sitting around. We'll make something of ourselves. How's that sound?" A volcano could've erupted for all I know with how loud his hunters cheer at the proposition. My stomach drops at the announcement, recalling when he divulged the possibility of this plan to me. I prayed it wouldn't ever happen, but here we are.

"Good. Let's get out of this bitch." He nods, addressing his hunters. I stare at him firmly, trying to let my eyes get the message across. The group gathers up their pig and spears while the rest of us watch. One boy hops down from a tree branch, trotting close behind.

"I'm with ya, Jack," he voices. My gut drops even further at that sight, and I feel Ralph exhale the same way. Simon joins at my side, and grabs my hand for support. Thanking him, I express a genuine smile.

Eric watches Sam leave with the rest, looking like he's building up the courage to say something but ultimately chooses against it. Sam on the other hand doesn't look back once. I thought the event was over, but apparently one more thing has to be said.

"When the rest of you come to your senses, feel free to join us." The chief of a second tribe concludes. That was that.

"What. The. Fuck." Eric prompts to himself. The boy seems to be recovering alright after watching his brother defect from the group with the mutual understanding that we all missed our chance at being rescued. At least that's how it seems. 

"So, what now?" He asks curiously.

"Don't know yet," Ralph says, staring ahead still.

"Are you alright, Veronica?" The quiet worry was conveyed with the simple utter of a question.

My stiffened lips curl reassuringly with the mobility of half dried plaster. I fail miserably at offering a smile. Cursing inwardly, I swallow back the sudden pressure in my throat, cobbling together every last scrap of composure to appear outwardly collected and in-control for the many goggled eyes laser-beaming at me like floodlights. It intensifies the already heightened vulnerability.

A second slips by, and my face ultimately crumbles. I jerk into sudden cries like a whiplash. This throws my on-viewers in for a loop, caught off guard and puzzled. They stand awkwardly until I regain composure.

"Let me see your injury..." Ralph softly takes hold of my chin, turning my head for a closer inspection. "It's gonna bruise, and probably leave a scar for some time. We'll get that cleaned up." He touched the tender skin around the wound, and I hiss in pain. At that, he flinches back in apology for hurting me.

"Ralph, I'm so sorry," I spill. He arches a brow. "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry that we let Roger get at you. It was a sick thing."

"Well, the rings didn't do me any justice." I try to add humor. Saying that, I graze over my own rings that I wore. But these are prettier, and more dainty for someone with slim fingers.

"Why did you do it?" Piggy speaks up. "You didn't have to help me, and you got the hit, plus a punch from Roger. So... why did you do it?"

I smile and take hold of Piggy's wrist comfortingly. 

"Because you're my friend."

His face drops, like it's the first time he's heard someone say that. 

"But... you got hurt and- I'm really sorry."

Exchanging a look with Ralph, we shake our heads. "It wasn't your fault, Piggy. It wasn't my fault either. Or Ralph's, or Simon's."

We all sit in silence to let the statement stew in the air. 

"Well, I shouldn't have attacked him in the first place," Ralph admits through a sigh.

"Yeah? Well Jack had it coming for him anyway." I say. "If anything, this proves we're better than them."

Eric looks confused, so I continue what I was saying. 

"Because we help each other and can stay loyal. Jack's group was wrong for what they did." Piggy nods sorely.

"I just said- I just said that we should have a meeting and..." Ralph's voice carries away. I purse my lips in thought.

"What Jack was saying is stupid. He doesn't have many standards on what's important. We'll keep decent, as we are." At my declaration, a few of the other boys who stayed with us walked over. Tony, Pablo, Greg, Will and some more little ones. Simon takes my hand again, squeezing for comfort.

"Jack's horrible," Piggy remarks, and Ralph pats him on the shoulder. 

"It's alright, maybe he'll come to his senses." To me, it seems far-fetched, but I'd still cling to that sliver of hope.

"He can't be fully off the deep end." I sigh.

I think about how he responded to Roger's attack on me. How he managed to have a reaction whilst also having no reaction at all; I have no idea. I don't know what that was. I don't know if he wanted to do more, or if he even knew what to say. Maybe he was simply stunned. After closing that thought, I take Ralph's injuries into account.

"Well, are you alright?" I take the sides of Ralph's face. "He hit you pretty good..." There are some bruises clouding his skin, a cut on his jaw, brow, and lip. The biggest cut that's actively bleeding travels shortly on his temple.

"I'll be just fine." He pats my hand which rests on his cheek. Feeling doubtful, I back off and wrap my blazer tighter around my body.

"You guys don't really think Jack will come back, do you?" Pablo asks, shifting nervously on his feet. Unfortunately for him, Pablo doesn't receive an answer, and he doesn't for the rest of the day either. Only the future will be able to tell us that one.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

With Simon and his nurturing second nature, he offered to clean my injury, which I obviously accepted. We sat together while he dabbed the cut with saltwater.

"Ouch," I breathe, resisting every urge to flinch back. 

"Sorry," he apologizes sheepishly and looks closer at the wound.

"At least Roger didn't get you in the eye." Simon dunks the scrap of fabric into a coconut shell that is filled halfway with water. I watch him wring it out before gently scrubbing away the dried blood that claimed the area on my skin. It doesn't hurt as bad this way, when he didn't have to clean the actual cut itself.

"Saltwater will kill the bacteria and help the pain," he mutters simply. That, and the fact that we don't have any first-aid kits nearby, this will have to do. Hell, I'll take anything.

Ever since we got on the island, I always chose to be wary around Roger. Now, more than ever. Luke and the others never posed as such huge threats in my eyes. Then again, I was used to the sexist remarks. It's a little embarrassment that won't hurt anyone. Roger, on the other hand, made his intentions clear a long time ago. What's even scarier, is that I ignored it for so long.

"I want Jack to come back." Those words left my mouth faster than I wanted them to, and I mentally berate myself for being so careless with my words. Simon slowed his movements down, and hit me with that thoughtful expression that sat so naturally on his face.

"I understand that," he answers kindly, setting the makeshift rag down in the sunlight to dry.

"He cares a lot about you. I know that fact hasn't gone away. He isn't all bad if he'd still be protecting you the way he did."

Was I protected, though?

Entranced by a vibrant butterfly, I flip a switch in my brain and regain the habitually regal manner that used to be so effortlessly complied to me. Rising up from the flat boulder we were seated at, I follow after it, still speaking to the quiet boy.

"You know, lots of people think that butterflies symbolize hope and endurance." 

When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows day after day?
Here's what my sweetheart said...

Humming as we watch the blue sky above, we let ourselves slow.

"Others think they symbolize freedom," I add. Simon picks up a small stone, feeling it's ridges. 

"I feel really free here," he says.

I chuckle knowingly and respond, "Maybe we're a bit too free here," subtly addressing the ordeal with Jack.

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

"Some people say that life is an ocean of bumpy hills," Simon spoke up with a sigh. "Ups and downs. Hard parts and easy parts." He turns to look at me. "Even though this hill may seem never-ending, it isn't. The easy part will come, and it will be amazing. I promise."

That was his way of telling me not to fret. Easier said than done. I crack a smile for the sentimental boy. Someone could only wish to be as optimistic right now. 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 makes me want to cry in an odd way, just out of stress. Then, Simon says something to catch my attention.

"Hey, look!" I see him crouched down, retrieving something near the edge of the cliff. Putting all of my bets on it being a lizard, I prepare for him to reveal a new reptilian friend. When he stands up with a chunky pink stone, I'm pleasantly surprised.

"It's a natural rose-quartz crystal!" He shows it to me happily. It makes me remember that I have a rose-quartz necklace back home. 

"That's so cool! I've never seen a natural one outside so big!" I cup my hands to insinuate that I'd like to take a closer look.

When it drops into my hand, I rub a thumb over it, taking notice of the powdery substance that layers it; debris from the dust and fallout of crumbling pebbles.

"Nice find, Simon!" I toss it back to him. He stares at it in thought for a moment, seemingly thinking with a certain ease. Catching me by surprise, he hands it back, pressing it to my palm.

"You can keep it." I blink a few times, ready to thank him, but ultimately hand it back. It's not everyday you find such a nice crystal out in the wild. I sure wouldn't just give up. Before I am able to do so, he begins talking.

"Those help us restore inner peace, and healing." He smiles at my astonished expression. "I'm sure you could use a bit of that, I'm all set." The boy closes my fingers around the quartz, and pats my hand. I hesitate before answering.

"Oh. Well- thank you, Simon." I stuff the pale pink stone into my pocket. Not being very sure of the whole appeal of crystals with healing energy, I find that they're gorgeous nonetheless. 

As if he read my mind, Simon proceeds to say, "Even if you don't believe in that stuff, I think you'll find it's a pretty item to hold onto. For a keepsake."

Together, we hike back to camp as the sun slowly escapes the day's grasp, making room for its friend, the moon.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Sitting around our fresh fire wordlessly, I can sense Simon playing Rock Paper Scissors with Pablo. A grim look etches across Ralph's face like a scar. Looking into his eyes, I can almost see his brain projecting a replay of today's events like a film. With Jack and his group being gone -- including a few extras -- we're close to outnumbered. The sky is turning black, and the wind was growing chill. An earthy smell of rain lingers heavily in the air.

"I saw them up on the opposite side of the island," Will spoke up, addressing the others. "Pretty far from the mountain. They have a whole camp called 'Castle Rock'." He twiddled his fingers in the air to symbolize quotation marks.

Me and Ralph simultaneously start laughing, and soon enough, Will starts chuckling, too. 

"What do ya' think they're doin' up there?" Piggy asks. I look over to him.

"They caught a pig earlier. They don't have the fire or my glasses, so what do you reckon they did with it?" The question hangs in the air with our grey smoke. Eric catches on and makes a gross face.

"You're saying they ate raw pig?" I want to gag at the thought of them ripping into the bloody pig, munching on raw flesh. The sounds that disgustingly came with the vision makes me feel sick in the stomach.

"That'd be stupid," says Piggy. "They'd get trichinosis!" Another sensation fills my throat, and the puking feeling returns.

"What's that?" Eric cocks his head to the side. The nerdish boy takes a bite into the roasted fruit he'd been eating. We stare at him impatiently as he sloppily chews and swallows the food. 

"It's bugs that lives in pigs!" Mango juice dribbles down his chin.

The piece of fish that the twin brother grasps falls from his hand. Melodramatically, his jaw drops along with it.

"Right..." Eric trails off, gulping hard. "I knew that."

Piggy rolls his eyes. With the conversation ending, I dig into my pocket and clutch the crystal in my hand, hoping it will provide some closure on everything. I don't really know what to expect.

"They're just all acting crazy." Tony speaks up, tearing some of the flesh off a fish bone, nearly eaten. "Somethin's makin' them go psycho."

"Maybe the moon's in gatorade." Eric shrugs. My brow hardens in confusion. 

"Retrograde," I correct stiffly. 

"Same difference." 

"The moon doesn't go into retrograde," Piggy cuts in obviously. "The planets do. The moon orbits in prograde motion with Earth." 

Eric stares blankly, not registering. "So?"

"So," Piggy presses on. "Retrograde is an illusion of a planet appearing to be orbiting backwards due to planet's position and the speed of Earth's orbit."

I can't help but crack a small smile at Piggy's words. He always seems happiest when he's able to fact dump. I can see the boys trying to connect the dots in their heads. 

"How is that supposed to make people go crazy?" Tony asks, sounding genuinely perplexed. 

"While there's no scientific evidence to back it up, people report a common phenomenon of oddities occurring during these time frames. Some people believe it effects Earth somehow, so that's where the belief comes from."

Tony and Eric shake their heads and brush it off. 

"Whatever it is," Tony mumbles. "It's something."

"Well, Piggy said the moon's in powerade so that can't be the reason," Eric ardently adds. A quiet laugh bumps from my chest and I toss a few branches into the fire. I see Ralph smile and shake his head from the corner of my eye as he adjusts his seating position.

Glancing up to the tree line, I jump back as Eric emerges from the darkness. Only it can't be Eric. That's impossible, because Eric is right here with us. So it's Sam then. I tap Ralph on the shoulder urgently. He flashes me a weird look when I point behind him. He too seems surprised at Sam's appearance.

"What do you want?" Eric calls out flatly, then knits his brows. "You're still wearing clown makeup." 

He's referring to the pig's blood and charcoal on his brother's face more so as an acknowledgment rather than a question. Sam doesn't answer his brother, not even glancing over. Ralph has to say something instead. 

"What do you need, Sam?"

The painted twin glances over his shoulder anxiously to the foliage behind himself before talking. 

"Jack wants fire. He sent me to ask you guys."

The thickness of the horrible tension between the two opposing twins could be sliced with a butter knife. Even I feel myself squirm as they shoot harsh glares at the other.

"Jack can come get it himself," Piggy states in a petty tone. Sam gives him heavy eyes and instead turns to Ralph for a more 'true' answer. With all eyes on him now, the chief puts his hands up, flustered.

"I- fine. Yeah, that's fine. Get your fire and go."

Sam sneers at his brother and stuck the end of a thick stick into our flames. Eric struggles to keep a neutral face, pretending to be unbothered.

Testing the water with Eric's limits, it's evident that Sam is lingering longer than he needs to for the sole purpose of irritating him more. Fed up, Eric finally snaps.

"What are you even here for, f'real?" He shot hypercritically. "Don't you people have some pigs to play tag with?"

This makes Sam satisfied that he got a reaction. Tossing the blazing stick into the fire -- the one he intended to bring back to Jack -- he crosses his arms and stands there.

"At least us people make ourselves worth something." He eyes his brother evenly. "Jack and Roger were right about you being the little bitch out of us two."

Eric visibly struggles to keep his cool.

"What is y'all's issue?" Will asks, sounding bored. Both twins snap their head over to him at once.

"He's being a dork!" They both say in perfect unison while pointing accusing fingers at one another. They shoot harsh glares at each other right after.

"What is with you guys and that word?" I speak up. 

"You're supposed to get fire and leave..." Eric turns his head away so he doesn't have to look at Sam. Sam just shrugs.

"Nah, I told him I could go, so I really don't have to be there right away."

Sam wore a smug expression. Eric on the other hand, being the proud and touchy kid he is, was taking deep breaths, clawing to appear just fine with Sam's mental torture.

"Why? Is there an issue with that, dork?" The painted twin approached closer with a hard expression. Ralph shifts in his seat, preparing to jump up if anything escalates. I didn't realize how tightly I gripped my crystal.

"Does that make you mad, parasite?"

Eric's temper flares up. He yanks himself fully around, a yell blasting from his lungs, stirring the sleepy little ones.

"Why don't you just leave us alone!?"

"I don't have to be bossed around by you and your stupid leader!" Sam retorts even louder. "All you do is whine like the rest of this group of kindergartners!"

As if we had a case of Déjà Vu on our hands, Eric reached his breaking point and shoved Sam hard in the chest. Sam endured the push with ease, and instantly shoved Eric back down onto his seat with an audible 'thud.' I want to groan at this twin quarrel. 

"Can you guys grow up already?" Piggy quizzes loudly. They both ignore him. Grunting, Eric punches his brother in the stomach, causing him to almost fold in half. The breath must have been knocked out of Sam, because he broke into a fit of coughs. His brother stands there in the sand, watching in surprise.

Suddenly, the two twins don't look so identical anymore.

Something must have come over Sam, because he pounced on top of his brother, pinning him down. Ralph and I jump up, telling him to back off. It didn't matter anymore; Sam punched his brother relentlessly in the face, stomach and even his chest.

Ralph and I hear the air rush out of Eric and we start screaming at them to stop. It has now gone beyond average sibling banter. Ralph storms over to tear Sam off of Eric; The painted twin is still fighting the air as he's getting dragged away. Will goes over to hold Eric back, but finds that it's not even necessary. Eric just sits up, breathless and in pain.

"That's enough! Calm down and stop hitting him." Ralph grunts to the thrashing Sam. I crouch in front of Eric to view his injuries. The boy is bleeding from his nose and busted lip, plus now sporting a black eye. 

"You hurt him!" I shout back at Sam. "Stop fighting, now!" 

He finally stops and looks over, then a sense of reality floods his face at Eric's condition. Stupidly, he had fought him in a blind rage, not knowing when enough was enough.

Eric wheezes, recovering from the blows to his stomach and chest.

"I... didn't know." Sam sputtered a justification, not making a move to approach his brother. Eric strained to open his eyes, his vision was likely blurry from the fight.

"He pushed me first-" Sam continues, guilt seeping into his tone. "He- He had it coming!" He quickly closes his mouth to stop those words. 

"Wait, Eric, I didn't mean-"

"Just leave us alone!" The beaten twin barks through a rasped voice. The outburst startles Sam. Ralph and I exchange uneasy glances as the rest of the boys who were once distracted tune in, all equally silent. I go to grab Eric's arm, but he jerks away, stumbling in retreat. Sam opens his mouth again, seemingly trying to find something to say until Ralph cuts him off by laying a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Just get your fire-" he presses a stick into Sam's grip, "-and go." 

Sam hesitates. "Is he okay?" he asks, trying to get a glimpse of his brother. His voice has softened with worry.

"He's fine, Sam," Ralph replies curtly. "You guys need time apart to cool off. Get on to your camp now."

Reluctantly, Sam retrieves his fire and is now the one casting anxious glances towards his brother. 

"Yep. Go on," Ralph calmly repeats with a finality in his tone. With nothing to say, Sam skulks back into the tree line, slipping over to the dark side. As soon as he leaves, everyone seems to relax with a simultaneous exhale.

I step towards Eric. "Eric, are you okay?" I ask gently, reaching to touch his arm. He flinches from my hand.

"I'm fine," he answers shortly. When he starts to leave for his shelter, I try to follow.

"You're hurt, let me see." Trying to gently coax the boy, he only dashes quicker away. 

"I said I'm fine!" And he hid away in his hut.

Shaking my head, I walk back over to the campfire. Ralph rubs his temples in stress for the situation. I can't blame him honestly.

"Did you get hurt when you broke them apart?" I ask seriously. The brunette shakes his head. 

"No, but I didn't have a lot of fun with that." He reveals a smile. A helpless laugh rumbles in my chest.

"Well, it seems Jack and Roger aren't contributing anything positive to their twin quarrel."

Ralph rolls his eyes as if to say go figure.

"They're down right idiots," he grumbles bitterly and turns to look at my face.

"How have you been?"

The prospect of him checking on me wasn't a surprise, but I just didn't have a solid answer. I had a bunch of little answers that were tossed into a big mix.

"Ralph," I speak carefully. "Do you remember that glass bottle that Jack found?"

The brunette nods earnestly. "Yeah, the guys kept annoying me when they'd argue over it as if it wasn't just a damn bottle."

My lips form a line of contempt as I prepare to reveal what I'd been keeping to myself.

"Ralph, a few weeks ago- or, I think it was a few weeks ago... I- ugh," I grunt, feeling flustered. "Doesn't matter- On the day we found Benson after he ran off the first time, I was going to bed when I found the glass shattered outside my hut."

He looks at me with confusion. "Someone spilled it near your shelter?"

I exhale sharply when he doesn't immediately catch my words.

"No, Ralph. Someone planted the glass right outside the doorway. Right where I would step. They hid it under the sand just slightly."

He blinks in surprise, that being the last thing he'd expect.

"But, who would-"

"- Roger." I quickly intervene. "He's targeted me in more ways than one."

"And you're just now thinking of bringing this to me?" presses Ralph.

"How could I have talked about it back then!?" I exclaim shrilly, throwing my hands up.

"What gave it away that it was Roger?" The follow up question made me give him a dumb look that he immediately caught.

"Fair." He gives a curt nod.

"I know it was him because he's the one who had it last before he broke it. I mean, if you haven't noticed by now, Ralph, Roger is the least keen on me."

He put his hands in surrender as if it would help me settle.

"And after that when they brought us all those red fruits, Roger handed me one that he stuck glass in."

"He what?" Ralph blew up. "How did you- why did-" he closes his eyes to process what I said. Sighing, I lean back on my hands.

"Jack saw a slit in it before I could take a bite. We thought it had worms in it or something till he cut it open."

"First of all," Ralph interjects over me. "Why didn't you say anything? I'm even more surprised that Jack didn't go blabbering about it even if he didn't know it was Roger who put it there."

I feel utterly helpless at finding an answer that addresses my lack of voice when that was all going on.

"There was no proof?" I shrug at my meek explanation.

"Well, you had your suspicions, no?" He arches a brow. 

"Please don't blame me for this." 

"No, I'm not doing that," Ralph quickly defends. "But I wish you would've said something. I trust that your gut knows better."

"Look, I'm sorry!" I fret in a staggered hiss, waving my hands in front of me slightly like I was presenting something invisible. Ralph pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning in exhaustion.

"He knew you'd instantly realize it was him, and he knew you wouldn't end up taking a bite of that fruit," Ralph lays it out steadily. "But he also knew you wouldn't speak up about it considering the circumstance. That was his leeway in doing it to you."

"Why though?" I fling my hands up with a definitive sourness. "What's his point in all of this? And why is he targeting me?"

"He's just trying to scare you," Ralph frowns solemnly. I shake my head, not accepting that brushed up answer.

"No. This is personal." I say for certain. "Whatever he's doing, it's personal. But why me? He doesn't even know me like he knows all of you."

I dart my head around the group who was listening in to catch their faces for some closure. Devoid of information. No logical answers to be offered. And so my rant persists.

"He would know exactly how to break all of you one by one in no time! He knows you all like that. But me? He met me a few months ago and he wants to make my life a living hell! If he really only wanted to assert his place here and mix up problems, he would've first taken out the ones he already knows everything about. Why is he so fixated on me?"

Ralph shrugs his broad shoulders with a tired ambience.

"That's an answer that only you would be able to get out of him, V."

Groaning out, I throw my head into my hands, and feel Ralph pat my back.

"The only reason Roger would focus on you is if he had some motive," Piggy cut in, making me lift my head.

"Clearly," I shot dryly. "But what would that even be?"

"Maybe you have something he wants," offered Will.

"Or maybe he has something planned to come out of all this," Simon adds. The words whirled endlessly in my head like a hurricane, and the eye of peace has yet to come. I would say that all of the above is a great possibility, but the ever-running question that blared above all, is why? Even with those possibilities, it doesn't explain what I want to know.

"You know what I think?" Ralph speaks up. All eyes turn to him, the authority figure who is always the one receiving questions.

"I think we're all sleep deprived and staying up talking about this doesn't help the current problem at hand." He reasonably points out. I purse my lips in thought, wavering side to side. Sleep does sound tempting.

"I'll watch the fire tonight," Simon gently volunteers." None of us argue. It's been one hell of a day. The wind is picking up, and we all take notice of it. Out in the far distance, just above the line on the horizon, white flashes light the section of the sky.

"There's gonna be a bit of rain," Ralph observes. Great. As if this couldn't be any worse. Normally, I'd say that I love the rain. However, without having a steady shelter with my own bed and a good book to read, I can't speak that phrase without telling a lie. 

Ralph helps me up, and I dust myself off. As we start walking in the direction of the shelters, I start thinking about the events of the day, ignoring the itchy heaviness of my sand-filled shoes.

When I climb into my makeshift bed, I ponder the events that occurred. It all was so chaotic, and now I don't know if Jack will ever come to his senses. And if he does, I hope it's soon. Finally, I give into a fitful sleep.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Something woke me up in the late hours of the night. I don't know what it was, but it was probably the multiple nightmares that startled me awake the last three times. I need to go for a walk before I try to sleep again.

I try to scope out some clearing in the jungle, one that I haven't seen before. But it doesn't help when you can't see where you're going. The trees of the dark jungle swirled with a ghosty forest-like ambience, standing like noble knights shielded by noir armor.

Darkness blankets the island, filling the once glorious jungle with demonizing shadows to its brim. I have already tripped over one too many branches and stones, to where I just wanna go back to camp at the moment. The black tranquility of the sky was dappled by a poetry of stars, connecting to shifted constellations.

A hand suddenly grips my shoulder and an overwhelming sensation of fear erupts in my gut. Ready to cry out, another hand clasps my mouth shut. Starting to struggle in the hold of my captor, I find myself surprised when I'm turned to face only Jack. The fear subsides to a pulp.

Furrowing my brows, I mumble something incoherently with his hand muffling my words. Jack groans and drops his hand.

"Hey, Vera." He immediately takes me by my shoulders, and walks me backwards to sit on a log. My mouth was still dropped open in confusion.

"Why the hell are you sneaking around?" I say in a hushed whisper. The blonde rolls his eyes and sits at my side, squared to face me.

"Stop stalking me-" I paused when he cups my jaw.

"Let me see how bad he hit you." Jack starts studying my face. Like Ralph did, he touched his fingers to the bruised area surrounding the scabbed wound. I come to my senses and shove his hands away. 

"Don't fucking touch me and explain what the hell you're doing out here." My voice is raised this time.

"I wanted to see you," he admits. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you earlier."

I roll my eyes and scoot away. 

"Yeah? Well you would be able to 'see me' every single day if you hadn't decided to defect like the immature piece of shit you are!" With the snappier I got, the more drained Jack appeared.

"Yeah, I'm not sorry for making a second tribe," he confesses flatly. My heart speeds up in anger once more, a vibrant line up of retorts ready to go.

"Veronica, I'm sorry I hit you. I truly didn't mean to. When I saw who was in front of me, it was already too late."

I scrunch my nose and make a face at him. 

"Yeahhh, I bet you feel like a real bitch for that, don't you?" I bite back. His brows bob momentarily in acceptance for every word I said.

"Yes, I do," Jack says and cups my jaw again. This time, I don't move and let him feel satisfied with the little 'man savior' complex.

"Fuck, Vera..." He sighs under his breath while looking at my cheek. "I'm so sorry for Roger. I didn't expect that to happen. I deserved that slap back."

I nod very matter-of-factly. "Yes, you did."

He presses his tongue to the inside of his own cheek.

"Right, well, I didn't want you to get hurt. I had to make sure you were alright. Vera, I'm so damn sorry."

He strokes my uninjured cheek with a thumb, and I wanted to melt into the touch all over again.

"If you're so sorry, then-" I stop to process everything that happened. It's hitting harder, but I've always seen it coming from a mile away.

"-Then why'd you leave?" I sound more vulnerable than intended. "We could have gone home, Jack."

He kisses my forehead, his lips pressing on my skin for a few moments. I should have pulled away right then and there.

"I had to."

"No, you didn't have to. You fucked up, and acted childish. Ralph can at least recognize where he went wrong. Just come back. I still wanna be with you."

He starts shaking his head. "What if you come join my tribe?"

I recoil at the proposition. "What?"

Jack scrambles to grab my hands and pull me closer.

"Come back with me, and I can take care of you," he tries to hold my face, but I push his hand away.

"I don't need you to take care of me. I'm loyal to Ralph because he doesn't have faltered morals."

He chews his thumbnail to come up with more reasoning. 

"Just wait till you see the good that comes out of this!"

I raise my hands up and stand up from the log. 

"No good could possibly come of this."

Jack also rises from the log, bowing his head in what seemed to be mock surrender.

"Call me an optimist."

I scoff in disbelief. "I'm leaving now." Muttering curses and insults under my breath, I try to leave the area as dignified as possible to finalize my point. I get stopped when my back is slammed against a tree- my arms pinned above my head. It wasn't forceful, so hitting the tree didn't cause me any pain, thankfully. 

"Oh? Are you doing this now?" He muses innocently, gauging me. His lips are so close to mine, I can feel his breath graze my skin.

"Let me go, Merridew," I say indifferently. So, he does -- letting my arms go and placing his own hands on the tree above my head. Crossing my arms, I try my best to keep my frame pressed firmly to the tree to create some distance, even if I don't want to.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look in the moonlight?"

That's it. One phrase, and I give in. Crashing our lips together, I let go of any grudge I had. Maybe I'd regret it later, who knows. But I only have one person on my mind; Jack.

His hands roughly explore my body, sculpting down my waist and thighs. I inhale sharply at the groping actions. He grins against my mouth in satisfaction for each response he manages to elicit from me. That alone makes my nerves flush. Jack mumbles something I can't hear while taking my hips and pulling me closer to his, increasing pressure while my fingers tangle through his blonde hair. This isn't right, I know. It's so wrong that it's delicious. 

His lips are like soft roses, firmly colliding with mine so perfectly. I feel Jack unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt to give his lips easy access to my neck. Ignoring the pining in the back of my brain telling me to stop, I grip his shoulders and pull him closer. 

He presses his lips into the tender crook of my neck - the most sensitive area. My eyes flutter closed, taking in the soothing affection. I remain this way until an inhale of surprise hitches into my lungs at the gentle clamping of his teeth on my skin. It sends butterflies to shoot up along my spine. It feels nice. 

His hands needily venture up under my skirt as his calloused fingertips trail the waistband of the shorts I wear for modesty, curling under and tugging them. There's an itch in my core needing to be scratched. Jack's hand slips back up my inner thigh again. 

It's wrong. Don't let this continue. You're better than this.

Strikes of ecstasy shoot up my spine from the wickedly scandalous rush. 

The wrongness of it all - I can't help but crave it.

How could you give it up to him like this? Have you no self respect? 

I think of all the horrible things Heather Chandler and Heather Duke would say if they saw me. Fuck. More thoughts to cram away in the drawers of my mind. Even in death, Heather Chandler always comes back to torment me. 

I gasp at a sudden feeling; Jack's arms hooking under my thighs as he effortlessly hoists me up against his hips, still keeping my back pressed to the tree. The pressure in my core intensifies as he squeezes himself against me, grinding into my senses. Jack shrugs his coat off, and his mouth finds mine again. I trail my fingertips down the indention of his spine, his tongue teasing my lips.

I can only find it in myself to pull him closer, yearning for his intoxicating potency to fill my senses and eliminate the regret. His kisses flutter down to my collar bone, leaving wine-stained bruises. I shove my dark hair behind my neck to keep it clear out of the way. Seeing how I react to spontaneous courses of action, he feeds into it even more, pushing my skirt up. 

I know I'm supposed to stop it. I know I'm supposed to say, no, this is wrong. The morality which usually gives me the ability to deny lustful thoughts and activities has suddenly abandoned me. I'm lost.

When we finish, Jack's forehead presses to mine. 

"I'm telling you, Sawyer," he whispers, catching his breath. "I can read you like a magazine, whether you wanna admit it or not."

When he pulls back to view my face, sincerity returns. 

"Damn you, Jack," I mutter. He strokes my cheek tenderly. 

"Yeah, yeah. I know you still love me," he snickers. My heart skips a beat at the word love, but I catch myself.

"Listen," he starts. The tone already makes me wanna tear my hair out. "I'm sorry for hitting you. It was meant for Piggy, and I didn't see you in front of me." Jack explains softly. I divert focus from his eyes, and down to his chest.

"And about Roger- fuck, I literally want to beat the shit out of him." Jack tightens his fist.

"But you forgive him because he's your best friend?" I presume knowingly, dreading the already predicted answer. Jack doesn't respond, and he seems to glance elsewhere. At that, I exhale in acceptance for the score. I don't need him to say anything to know what was inferred. 

I plant my hands on his shoulders and squirm out of the straddle so I can stand on my own, back still against the tree. I start re-buttoning my shirt and shouldering my blazer on, staying silent. 

"I had a long talk with him, though." He mumbles. A bitter smile of vexation twists my lips into almost that of a sneer. Yeah, like that will do anything. Jack sees that I'm still wearing his name tag on my blazer. When I see that he notices it, it dawns on me how degrading it is to wear it, even if Jack has good intentions.

"Can you just-" I inhale sharply and make fists in front of my face out of frustration. Taking a breath to collect myself, I continue. 

"Just please come back."

Jack shakes his head solemnly. 

"I can't do that, Vera. You know I can't." The blonde attempts to take my hands, but I shove them away.

"Yes, you can, Merridew!" I say loudly, slicing the tranquility of the night. He tries to hush me, but the rant doesn't stop there. 

"It takes zero effort to man up and come back!" I shove him one more time in his chest, breaking us apart.

"Veronica." He firmly stops me. "I'm not coming back. Ralph is a terrible leader. I understand why you're mad. Really, I do."

Despite his calm speech, I promptly cross my arms over my chest. 

"Just know that there will always be a place for you at Castle Rock. Think about it, kay?"

My heart lurches, and I want to sob right there, but I don't. I want to argue and yell, yet I don't. Instead, I graze one of the stripes of pig's blood on his cheek, and he looks confused.

I can't help but think to myself; red is such a provocative, rebellious color. Heather Chandler loved red. Pulling back, I meet his eyes one more time.

"Have a good time up there," I nod to the direction of his far away camp. At that, I turn on my heel, but stop when he gently takes my elbow.

"Yes, ma'am. Thanks for the fire," Jack whispers, then kisses me. Thunder suddenly strikes the air above us, rumbling through the constellations to add all the more intimacy to our state of relation.

I look up to a sky that is now molten silver being stirred in a rolling pot, twinged with grey clouds that assemble in the swirling abyss. Stars dull down as they get polished over by a purple haze. The boy smirks at the sound of the lightning cracking like a whip.

"And enjoy the storm. It's gonna be a big one." That was it. No more words to offer. At this point, I can't even describe what I feel for him, whether it's good or bad. From there, we split apart into our what is now; two different worlds.

♕︎♕︎♕︎  

♕︎♕︎♕︎

You're the only one who tried to find the good parts of me.

♕︎~♕︎

Those went away for a while.