𝐓𝐖 // 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝐂𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐟

[Sound]

noun

Mechanical radiant energy transmitted through longitudinal pressure waves in a material medium. That is just the straight forward, textbook definition.

Sound.

Hearing is one of the five basic human senses. Sound stands firmly the foundation for concepts such as communication and self expression. Expression of love, anger, hatred, and pain. It can be a form of human power if not drowned out by other more well-established voices.

We are only human. We are no higher beings. We are not gifted with supernatural abilities. Our only natural powers are our words. They are tailor-made to each language. They fall in line with equilibrium, courtesy of the developmental history of language. You can't see sound, visually. However, there are instances to prove it's there. Vibrations, shockwaves, and so on. That's when our sense of sight and touch comes in to take the stage.

Regardless, we all know sound for the most part, and its reasons of existence. Sound is evident in music, laughter, sobs, and even screams. All things considered, it's the groundwork of communication, whether it be to convey words, or basic-natured emotions. Communication helps bonds to be born and disputes to run rampant. 

For those who are unable to produce sound for communication, we as a society have created ways to weasel around the inconvenience without the need for sound. Another one of our natural powers; the ability to adapt.

These kids - all of them with painted faces - sound is a second nature to them. They're painfully loud and obnoxious. Sound accompanies them everywhere they go. While not all of them may be innocent-minded after the corruption from older boys, there is a source of balance from their vibrant laughs. Their voices are the rainbows we see behind dark clouds. Their voices are purity through the abyss.

Maybe that's why I find this so ironic.

Now, silence inhabits the smoky air.

Ralph's expression falls into a blank canvas. It's devoid of any emotion. Scared and frozen, I force my feet to slowly look around as the hard scent of metal wafts into the air, mixing with the smell of smoke just like last night.

No one was... no one was supposed to die.

That's when I see it. The bloody heap through the maze of many human legs blocking it in a hysteria of panic and curiosity.

"Move!" I shreik, shoving my way through the barricade of hunters. Luke, Jack, Pablo... all familiar faces give me worried looks as I stumble in right next to the still breathing body of Eric.

The horrific gushing is on replay in my mind, paralyzing my brain from making a comprehensive thought. It was only a few moments ago, but the amplification is still screaming so loud in my eardrums, that I can almost match it to how Eric's face must've looked when Roger stabbed him in cold blood, surely piercing vital organs.

Eric. A once excited, extroverted boy. I could associate him with the sounds of jokes, laughter, and vibrancy. Now, my perception of sound and him - is stained.

"Oh, my god..." a whisper trembles out of my lips. A pitiful image of the boy is laying there, wide eyed, and staring at the black sky. Stars are the only thing to guide him now, but none show to his grace. There is still a rise and fall of his chest, but he already seeps with the smell of death.

"Eric?" I touch the back of his hand, scraping for a sign of his unlikely survival.

"Veronica?" Crimson trails run tracks down his face, trickling out the corner of his mouth. My hand moves to wipe the blood away with my sleeve. A ravaged-scarlet color. 

"I need to say sorry to Sam still." Eric twitched violently. A painful gurgling sound boiled in his throat and splattered out of his mouth to coat his chin. It would be useless to keep cleaning his face, but I do anyway. The twin is slowly drowning in his own blood as it steadily floods up his throat. My face scrunches up somberly. It's a sad image to look at.

"Where?" That was the only word Eric managed to squeeze through his trembling mouth.

"He's... I don't know." I admit, feeling flustered. He doesn't react. I lift his head with my hand to keep him from choking on blood. When my eyes travel away from his face, I notice the gaping red hole in his abdomen.

My hand clasps over it like a pale starfish. His gushing blood is not a constant flow, but it spews heavier with every beat of his heart. At first, it came out thick and slipped through the gaps of my fingers. I press down onto the wound harder in renewed desperation, grimacing at the warm, slippery feeling while a flood of dark red envelope my hand. He yelps, and in an instant, his hands shoot to mine as he makes weak attempts to shove them away.

"...hurts- hurts," Eric winces. A sharp hiss zips through his bared teeth and clenched jaw as I watch him writhe in pain, twitching like withered ash. His weeps sound wet and gargled.

"It's only to help you." Saying those words feels like chewing on a wet paper towel. The strong gushes of blood move over my hand and clasp to the ripped flesh. His neck is strained and arched way back, eyelids slammed shut as silver ribbons of tears leak over his cheekbones and into his ears.

I notice yet a second wound in his chest. Much smaller, and more narrow, almost like a slit puncture wound from a blade rather than a spear. The cavity in his abdomen is no doubt bestowed by the harm of a spear. In the end, assessing his gory injuries like I know anything will be pointless. It only adds to the horrific realization that this will be the reason for his tortured end, and there's no medical help to save him from a grotesque fate.

"I- I don't wanna-" he chokes immediately on his words. Red beadlets pelt his face as he rasps out. The noise is a wheezy sigh. A gut-wrenching one that can pass off as the sound of air squeezing out of a balloon. Another strangled gasp wrenches into his tensed throat as soon as the air leaves.

"Someone- someone has to help!" I cry desperately, whipping my head around for a helpful face. Every glimmer of hope is in front of me, but when I reach out, a door slams in front of it. Panting hard, I whip my head down to look at the boy who is struggling to breathe on the ground.

"Stay with me, Eric. Hold on-- Ralph, help him!" To my dismay, he stands there with a sad expression, not making a move. Crestfallen, I take on a more demanding approach.

"Ralph, come on!" I slam a hand on the ground. The phrase is meant to come out as angry, but instead it sounds like more of a shriek.

"Piggy! Help me- help Eric- please!" Again, no one moves, not even Piggy. Fucking no one. "God!" I groan out.

Robert is weeping in place; the others all matching looks of shock. 

Eric is fading and it's obvious. Blood is draining from his rapidly paling flesh, pairing with weakened breaths and a faint pulse. His pupils dilate and shrink unevenly, meaning that his vision must be out of focus.

"Sam."

"Just hang on, Eric. It's- it's gonna be okay," I try to reassure him, mumbling through my words. Almost all of my weight leans onto the wound. I'm not even sure if that is the right thing to do.

Sobs inch up my tightening throat like nasty rats squeezing their little bodies through narrow pipes as I heave with my chest. Swallowing the knot of tightness down, I gather the smaller boy up, trying to not shift his position too much, and keeping my arm underneath his shoulders so his head can be cradled in the crook of my elbow. The moment I take him into my hold, the tension in his muscles seems to give out, and he lets himself sink in limply with a ghosted sigh.

He's giving up. His whole frame shutters as the rest of his energy depletes, though his breaths are quick and light with the pace of fluttering butterfly wings.

"Ver-" he can no longer complete a full word. Sucking back another sob, I begin stroking my fingers over his forehead and down the bridge of his nose to soothe him. Just the way mom did when I was sick.

"It's okay, you're okay." I whisper. "I'm here, I got you. It's okay."

Eric's eyes are glassy, staring up to the stars. Diminished. Not a moment later, his face falls, and eyes go blank, seeing nothing. The final tear that brimmed his eye trickled down his cheek. The last tear he'd ever shed. It was a horrific realization. I slapped a hand over my mouth in shock. It's too real now, and it happened so fast.

Eric had died.

My stomach coils in agitated horror the moment my jaw falls slack, free from the hinges. A knife of awareness pushes into my chest. He just... he just- no. My hands are shaking so bad, jerking like wasps caught in a mason jar. Why am I shaking??

"Oh, my God..." my leafy words tremble.

The swell of heat in my chest grows as a dewy chill begins leaking down my spine. Too hot, too cold. The heat envelopes my face as my head absentmindedly shakes in denial.

"Veronica?" It's Jack's voice -- all too recognizable. Not answering him, I suck in a harsh breath, a sob tickling the backs of my teeth. My jaws clamp over the fragile tissue of my inner cheek. Somehow, Jack appears behind me without my notice. His voice shot through the air like an arrow.

"There's nothing you could have done for him, seriously."

Two hands plant themselves on my shoulders. Two searing iron plates that made the atmosphere tighten up around me. Not enough room- not enough space- I flinch and shake my head again, squirming away from the pain. Too hot, too hot, too hot- Why are my hands trembling so terribly?? My teeth clamp down harder onto my cheek as I blink away the betraying wet brimming my eyes.

"No, no, no, no..." Freezing liquid starts to leak down my face, making the burn on my cheeks sizzle and snap. A shocked gasp wrenched into my mouth with a croak, and I begin dragging my shaky hands over my face. I now understand the meaning of a sensory overload.

A sob braces the air off to my left, making my shoulders jerk.

"Veronica..."

Too loud, too loud, too-

My hands clasp over my ears as I shake my head again.

A child died in my arms. A child just died in my arms. No, God- Did a child just fucking die in my arms? Oh, God, no. Too hot, too cold, too loud-

A stinging pain shoots through my cheek as my teeth bear down onto the sensitive flesh like a mouthguard, but my mind numbed me from it, leaving it as a background sensation to the heat, the cold, the loud volume- Can't breathe-

"Come on, get up..." the same voice coaxes me.

Coherency is out of the question at the moment. Ignoring what they'd all think, I move Eric's hands to his unmoving chest and weep, bowing my head. Great heaving cries make my shoulders jerk like no tomorrow. And Sam wasn't here.

That's right. He wasn't even here, and he isn't here now for that matter. Why? Oh, yes. It's because he had to get fruit -- Jack's orders. Fucking fruit. Oh, well he'd be here still if I hadn't chosen to show up. Eric wouldn't be here to die either. Shit, he didn't even want to go to this dumb fucking feast, and no one was supposed to die! It's good as murder. A murder that i'd be guilty enough to be responsible for. I might as well have been the murderer.

Fruit... fruit damnit. The air begins to taste like metal, but then I realize I drew blood from biting down onto my cheek. My tongue feels the punctures in the tissue, making my eyes widen with realization. With a shuddering breath, I sweep a hand over his face and close his eyes.

Then, someone pokes my back roughly with a spear, snapping me out of my hysteria. I look back to see Luke coolly nodding off to the distance. Sure enough, I see Sam and Tony returning with two shirt fulls of fruit. Fucking fruit.

I jump up as my mind screams at me. The boys seem to tighten up, blocking the scene off. Little ones get rudely hushed by the older teens trying to stop their crying. Seeing Sam pushes me to the brink of hyperventilating. Ralph can't fix this, and neither can I. No one was supposed to die.

"What the hell are y'all looking at?" Sam obliviously demands an answer from the anxious hunters, making Tony snicker as he returned at the boy's side, just as unaware to the gory scene. I shove my way out of the circle to stand in their path.

Confused, Sam's eyes drift to my crimson stained shirt, visibly tensing at the sight of my blood coated hands. Anxiousness washes over me, numbing my limbs as I start contemplating how to go about this new situation. It feels like I'm underwater, and the water had been filling my ears, deafening all sound.

A harsh beat of a drum pounds against my ribs, desperate to burst through. The circle of boys fortunately hides the gruesome scene that had just taken place from Sam's vision. His eyes glisten, and I can see tears just barely brim his water line... like Eric. He seems to already have the idea of what happened, and I dread the thought.

"Where's Eric?" his words tremble, coming off as choppy. My breath hitches apon his question. He knows. The small twelve year old loses all signs of savagry, resembling the innocent kid he once was. The annoying, mischievous, happy little kid. I can see it glimmering through the horrid warpaint that makes him look so damn menacing for his age.

He begins a stride for the circle, suspicious as to why every guilty gaze drills him. I instantly step in his path to improvise a fast explanation.

"Sam, wait, please listen-" I quickly stop myself. How do you tell someone that their brother had died? How do you tell that to a twelve year old?

"What is it?" His tone becoming more distressed. My face tingles, numb from the reality of it all. There's that similar burning sensation in the back of my head, making my lip quiver.

"I..." The words don't deliver. Of course. Now of all times. My weight shifts on my feet uneasily as I anxiously tangle my fingers together, making my stance look anything but calm.

He dropped the ball under the heavy weight of his raised suspicions.

"He's dead... isn't he?"

I don't answer. I only stare with a stupefied expression with my rapidly widening eyes. That was enough of an answer alone. His breath quickens, chest heaving hard as the dire reality fell over him. I can see it... it's all over his face.

Without a warning, Sam darts forward, meaning to barge through the barricade of savages to see what is concealed behind them. My reflexes kick in before he can be successful. I feel myself lunge in front of his path, and wrap my arms around his small frame

"Let me go!" He grunts, trying to escape my hold. The attempt of sounding angry was overrun by the obvious crestfallen whimpers. He tucked his chin to his chest to hide his face.

"Sam, don't-" He violently thrashes in my struggling arms, and finally is able to break away. Ralph just now takes initiative and steps forward to grab him, but Sam manages to shove past, and winds up right smack into the circle. I feel my heart drop and Ralph stares at me knowingly.

He abruptly halts in his tracks, slipping on loose sand from the sharp stop. The atmosphere stays deathly silent as Sam stands frozen, his mouth agape at the unmoving body.

We hear the boy straining to hold back a sob, making it sound like a feeble whine as he collapses to his knees, mumbling delusional nonsense. 

We silently watch in horror as Sam extends out a shaky hand to touch the other twin's shoulder.

"Eric?" He softly questions. It sounds hopeful as we all wait in anticipation for a response. He gently shook him, desperate to find a sign of life. Eric fails to make a single motion. I strain to hear a noise that belonged to something other than the ocean and fire.

Silence.

Another whimper escapes his throat. I watch him take another shaky breath before going at another attempt.

"Eric?" His tone is louder this time, and more frantic. Sam shakes him vigorously, his chest heaving in grief. We all wait for Eric to breathe, to wake up, or even say something. To no avail, none of these wishes come true.

"Stop fucking around, you dork-"

He pauses the movement, his mouth agape at the still warm body of his brother. Sam's hand visibly stiffens on the dead shoulder. The only sounds left to be heard by human ears are the crackling fire, and roaring waves. 

An inhumane wail splits through the air and pierced my heart like a billion little push-pins, shocking me out of the stunned state. The cries sound indefinable, the grief took him like spasms that come in great waves.

He weeps without end. I look over at Jack. He too, shocked as ever, stares at the scene before us. My attention snaps back to Sam who has tears endlessly streaming down his face, leaving glistening trails that proved the sorrow's existence. The sobs wrench through his body as he's unable to catch his breath. I mindlessly start stepping forward.

"Don't," Jack instructs sternly, placing a hand on my shoulder. Too dazed to pull away, I let Jack lean to whisper in my ear.

"Let him be." His cold breath brushes against my skin, making me shiver. Jack then signals for the hunters to disperse from the location. They're wide-eyed -- I mean, it all happened so quickly! Brainlessly, they leave the scene as Sam screams Eric's name in the background.

I for one don't budge. Jack half heartedly tries to coax me away, but I refuse. However, I reach the point where I can't bear to listen to his cries any longer without doing something. Shoving everything aside, begin stepping forward.

Through all of my teenage years, I've never considered myself to be particularly skilled at giving comfort in situations like this. Before the island, I didn't think I'd have a motherly bone in my body. But here I am, wrapping my arms around the trembling Sam, who is weeping over his brother. His whole body flinches at the sudden contact in a hard jolt. A moment later, he falls to pieces in my arms, leaning into me and crying. 

Footsteps close in behind me. Ralph and Piggy. Of course. Ralph kneels down at my side, sniffling with a tear streaked face. I transfer my focus back to Sam.

There's nothing to be said. I'm not someone to ramble useless nonsense about how everything is okay. I don't offer the shitty saying, he's in a better place. I don't tell him to calm down... I allow him to sob it out. However, no amount of tears being shed could ever cleanse him of this sorrow.

I glance to the left, expecting Jack to have left. Shockingly, he still stands there. And upon me noticing him, he turns quickly, and walks away. 

With passing time, Sam's cries cease down to a blank stare. Ralph looks up at me and wordlessly rises up, nodding to the body. I nod in response. With powerful arms, Ralph lifts Eric's slack frame, ready to move him. This causes Sam to stir. 

"N-No..." He stammers out, trying to stand up. "No, don't take him!" 

Ralph, partly frightened, lowers Eric once more, and Sam crumbles over his brother. The sobbing resumes. I look up at Ralph sadly, both of us at a loss of what to do. 

"Can we bring him back?" Sam weeps, heaving big ragged breaths in and out of his lungs. "Please? Can you bring him back?" His fragile voice shatters once more as we don't answer. 

I place a hand on his shoulder, shifting closer to his side, and lay my other hand on Eric's forehead. 

"Sam..." I whisper. "He's lost too much blood, hun." 

He shakes his head, growing more distraught. "No." 

As painful spasms wrack through his limbs, Sam begins trying to scoop the blood drained across Eric's skin back into his wounds. I feel my heart break even more at that. 

"No," he sobs, not thinking clearly. "No, I can fix it." 

I put my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sounds of my cries. 

"I can fix it," Sam continues. "Let me fix it." He starts to look around at us frantically. 

"I can give him my blood," he says, deadpanned. "I- I- We have the same blood type."

"Sam..." 

"No," the painted twin cuts me off and shakes his head, persistently cupping his hands around the wounds like it's doing anything to hold the blood in. 

Piggy is beginning to hypeventilate, not quite the way Sam is, though. I feel my limbs vibrate with dread as he tries to save is brother.

"I'll give him my blood," he repeats, breathing heavier with each word, sounding strangled. "I can gi- let me give him my blood." 

"It doesn't work that way," Ralph tries to explain softly, sitting on the sand across the boy. Sam keeps trying to smear the spilled blood into Eric's wounds as if it'll drain back in. Just tirelessly dragging his hands across his brother's torso.

"Please," he chokes as the tears profusely stream down his face. "Please, I'll give him my blood. I'll fix it, and I'll give him my blood-" 

Before he can even get another word out, he crumbles again. The sobs burst free, striking my chest and flooding in my ears. Piggy, while wringing his hands, frowns softly and looks down. Ralph can't even hide the emotion from his face, and all I can do is continue to stroke Eric's forehead like he'll even feel it, and gently rub Sam's back as he weeps. 

Many minutes pass by, filled with Sam's tearful begs and pleads for Eric to wake up, to come back. We don't say anything, and let the grief take its course. After what feels like an eternity, Sam falls back into a silence, unmoving, and unresponsive. Tears continue to spill steadily from his right eye despite his face falling still. I think it's from shock. 

Once again, more hesitant this time, Ralph lifts Eric into his arms. Sam doesn't protest. In fact, it almost seems that he doesn't even notice, staring blankly ahead. Ralph carries the passed twin off to a different, more respectable location.

"Piggy, can you take Sam back to our camp so he can rest?" I question. He seems surprised, but answers quickly.

"Uh, yeah." The boy agrees and diverts his eyes to the twin. "Come on," he places a hand on his back. I watch as the two leave, and I catch my breath -- leaning my head back to breathe in the salt-sprayed air. Stepping away from the scene in disbelief, I recount the events leading up to the death.

It was so avoidable, and that makes me feel sick. Simon's death was avoidable, and so was Eric's. A new found surge of hatred for Roger floods my senses and my teeth grit like stones pressing together. Simon was an accident, but this was a murder in cold blood. This was out of pure will.

"Haven't thought hard enough about it huh, Vera?" Jack's voice floats to me. I snap up my head in his direction, noticing the distance I traveled in my thoughts. He stares into a campfire.

"Stop." Is all I say. He arches his brow in amusment, refreshing my anger. "You can't tell me you didn't see this coming..." He flicks a stone into the blaze in front of him, sending sparks to flurry up.

"Someone died tonight, Jack!" I emphasize promptly. "Are you fucking serious? Is that not game changing enough for your twisted mindset?"

He keeps staring into the fire, illuminating his facial movements. With an open mouth, he pressed his tongue on the inside of his cheek and sets his jaw. "Like I said, better to strike than get struck."

That's it, that touches the last nerve and I explode. "He's dead! And you don't even care!"

My statement earns a scoff.

"We all die, Veronica! That's the thing with life, no one makes it out alive. Accept that and move on."

An electric zip snapped in my veins quicker than anyone could say the Lord's name.

"No, Jack! I won't move on, okay? I can't. He was 12!" I sob as the tears refresh. Jack slaps his hand onto his forehead.

"Oh, my God..." He rubs his hands over his face in annoyance, taking a deep breath before yelling again.

"That was his life! Life is written in stone, plain and simple. It's all laid out the second we enter this world. This is exactly how and when he was supposed to die. Fucks sake..."

I lunge forward, shoving him hard in the chest, making him stumble. "You sick fuck!" I spat. My fists tightened, and my nails began puncturing the already damaged skin on my palms.

"He was supposed to live longer, and Roger crushed all possibilities of that! You make it sound like you wanted him to die!" I throw my fists against his chest, sobbing without end. Jack only stands there, stone faced and unphase

"You wanted him to die! You did!" Pulling back, I go to punch him in the cheek. Before I can, he gripped my wrist mid moment. My stomach drops and I stare in shock

"Really?" Snarled Jack as he shoves me away. "You really think I wanted him to die? I never wanted the kid dead, Vera!"

I lift my chin in the air to maintain some form of dominance

"I'm not even the one who killed him. And what future were you talking about?" He advances closer, tilting his head to the side in attempt to taunt me with my own words.

"Hm? What about that phrase? 'I say we grow up, be adults, and die.' What happened to that? He didn't have a future coming for him alright? He didn't have a chance!" He bit his tongue in frustration, kicking another stone into the fire.

I open my mouth to respond, but my breath hitches, and nothing emits. I bow my head, allowing the tears to flow freely without shame.

"Jack. It's always been Samneric." I mumble tearfully. The grief panging like a bouncy ball in my chest, sending spasms of anguish through my limbs. Guilty, Jack gazes out the the roaring ocean with a somber expression.

"Sam wasn't even there when it happened. All because of a petty fight."

The conversation I had with Eric on fire watch comes to mind. Then the one in Simon's spot in the forest. He acted so different.

"Something's wrong with this island. It just isn't right." Another sob erupts from my chest. Jack rubs his temples, sucking in a deep breath

"Well, you definitely helped Sam," he shrugs. I make a face at his sentence.

"What're you talking about?" His eyes meet mine, softer than they once were.

"You spared him the pain of watching his brother die." The last word hits hard enough to steal my breath.

"Are you stupid?" I hiss. Jack is now the one stepping back like it confused him

"Sam wouldn't have cared about that- he wouldn't- I cannot wrap my mind around what you just said," I reply.

"He'd want to be there for Eric's sake. I bet Sam would even tell you that," I tried to get through to Jack.

He chuckled. He fucking laughed in my face.

"Are you serious?" I feel my heart stop at the ignorance. "Open your eyes. You're different, Jack. You've changed." He squinted at me. The glare stabbed through my conscious. My own scowl returns.

"No, Veronica, you've changed. Now you're just another basic Mary-Sue who can't buck up enough to stand on her own two feet. Wake up, Vera."

My body flinches at the use of the childish nickname which he often used as a showing of endearment before this. I can't tell its meaning now. He isn't yelling. Not anymore. He's speaking firmly as his voice trembles, holding something back.

I'm so done. Would it be better to just give up? He's changed, but so have I. What happened to the old me? I'm losing myself, and I have been since senior year of high school. The "me" that Jack thinks he met is still a lie in itself. How ironic. This only feels like an old nightmare, a stupid bad dream. I wanna to wake up from this thing that feels like an endless coma, and blow this fucking island as it burns to the ground. I hate it.

Saying nothing else, I stare into the fire. The golden orange flares flap in the short breeze, just waving freely. The sparks appear as dainty orbs, and twirl up into a dance towards the sky, until they disappear into oblivion in a small 'snap'. Hazed smoke occasionally blows into my face, suffocating me as it burns my throat with every inhale.

I picked up a small twig that had been discarded in the sand and twirl it between my fingers for a moment, studying the imperfections carefully before leaning towards the fire. Jack looks at me drearily, and sighs before speaking up to call out my strange act.

"What are you doing?"

Pausing, I look at him and stick an end of the twig into the blaze, the end ignites like a candle wick -- this whole time managing to maintain eye contact. The flare eats down the wood.

"Don't burn yourself, Chickadee," he remarked sarcastically. The flame is halfway down the twig, and heat licks my fingertips, begging to burn me. Shutting my eyes tight, I prepare myself for the next course of action.

Here we go; sucking in a few harsh breaths to give myself that silent encouragment, I find that my heart is practically beating out of my chest. With out any more hesitation, I wrap my hand around the burning end.

"Shit- fuck!" I shriek in pain, dropping the charred twig. The flame had burned through my flesh, sending waves of agony through my fingers and arm. I quickly closed my hand in a tight fist, only making the pain more apparent. Tears running down my face, I wince hard and grab my wrist.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jack gasps. I rocked back and forth, clutching my wrist and I could feel the cuts on my palm being eaten away by the immense heat. The fist I was making only caused my nails to dig even more, making the hot, white pain intensify.

"Are you crazy?" Jack exclaims in question. He yanks my hand to his chest to stop me from inflicting any further injury like I was doing. Unable to take the pain, I press my forehead to his shoulder to drown my cries through maintained agony

"Don't keep your hand in a fist..." Jack urges, prying my fingers open. Spasms dart through my veins with my hand finally wide open. We both recoil in repulsion.

My palm has a burned gash, and a red substance oozes out. My skin curls back like thin wood being peeled. Small blisters make their appearance. The need to close my hand pesters like a loud alarm.

"Shit, Vera..." Jack's voice trails off with the wind, shaking his head. He lifts my chin to make contact with my teary eyes. All anger melts away as the rapidly swelling concern freezes over. He looks back down at my injured hand.

"It's gonna leave a nasty scar," mumbles Jack. The blonde turns my hand over, giving me one last gaze in the eye before gently kissing the back of my knuckles. His unexpected empathy is unnerving - just one more thing that feels wrong with the world.

He takes my other hand and kisses my fingers softly.

"Hold me," the words ghost through my lips, barely audible. "Please, just hold me."

A few seconds later, and I feel his arm snake around my waist. This put me at ease, my head laid on his shoulder, sniffling.

"Look, I'm sorry about Eric. I never wanted the kid to get killed," Jack numbly sighs. I remain in stubborn silence, listening to this island where the earth and sea are one.

"Wasn't ever my intention," he mutters, resting his cheek on the top of my head. The pain in my hand flares up, yet to sizzle down. However, the hurt isn't my biggest issue anymore.

Big breaths of air suck into my lungs, filling them, then releasing it all. It's like a steady rhythm with my beating heart.

My eyes drill the space of air in front of me, rocking ever so slightly.

"All while we were messing around and fighting like immature kids..." I begin slowly on a monotoned dissertation just like Piggy.

"Sam wasn't there because he was worried about getting fruit. For me. He didn't see what was happening because he was getting some fruit."

Jack narrows his brows at me.

"Sawyer..."

"Fruit!" I spat as I spiral into a spastic laugh. "Eric didn't even want to go- but I made him go!"

"Sawyer." Jack repeats.

"Even if it was completely out of my ability to stop it, it certainly wouldn't have happened if Sam were there, and--"

"Veronica Sawyer-"

"- And why wasn't he there?" My head swivels to drill into the blonde. "Because of me!" My crazed eyes widen as I beat my finger into my temple for rough emphasis.

"Veronica."

"The fruit he was getting me!" I cackle again on the brink of mania.

"Veronica, seriously-"

"Fruit! Isn't that the most idiotic, sickest thing, Jack? Would you have taken it back?? Because I sure as hell would-"

"Vera!" The coldness of his harsh snap rips me out of hysterics. I flinch back, startled, and blinking rapidly. Jack sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose in subtle beratement and stress.

"Would you stop talking about the fucking fruit?" He mutters with his eyes still slammed shut like a locked case.

"Jack... I-"

"No, damn it!" Jack's eyes fly open, and his hand shot away from his face, splayed wide open in agitation.

"Veronica, just stop stressing about it!"

I exhale slowly to keep from collapsing forward in grief and get hit with the sickly, sweet scent of exhaustion. My mind is decaying.

"That's the last thing that you should be worrying about." He insists, refusing to look at me. My eyes already begin to well up again at the reality of it all.

"And it's literally not even you who should be getting the blame for that part. I'm to blame. So just stop before you drive yourself insane, 'cause you're driving me to that point right now."

My wilted face sags further in a hodgepodge of guilt, confusion, and sorrow.

"I'm sorry-"

"Shut the fuck up." He growls. "You don't apologize for this. Got it? Of all the things you believe you should be sorry for, this isn't one of them."

A word forms on my lips -- why? Jack catches it in time and stopped me.

"Just stop asking questions." He grumbled bitterly. "Does your big brain ever get tired of overthinking? Just give it a break already, please."

My heart slams against my ribs, echoing in my ears. For once, I'm completely vulnerable. It's at this point that his blue eyes finally meet my coffee stained ones, and it stuns me entirely.

"Just breathe, Sawyer."

I gulp the clot of thick angst in the back of my throat and sniffle, nodding quickly. In my brain, I still repeat apologies like a broken record despite his commands. My uninjured palm slaps onto my warm cheek and limply drags the tears away, stretching my face down. My skin feels tight from the salt.

Sighing in reluctance, Jack roughly yanks my hand away, and carefully wipes my tears with his knuckles with a hint of begrudgement. I keep my questions repressed in my vocal cords.

Benson's dead, Simon's dead, Eric's dead... who's next? 

"Our love is God," Jack whispers in my ear.  

"It's really not," I say, looking at his face. Without holding for another moment, I stand up, booking it off to the treeline. The tears steam diagonally down my face as Jack shouts my name a few times behind me. My speed picks up into a jog, then a run. 

I stop myself against a tree along the edge of the jungle, sinking down to the ground as the sobs claim my body once more. Jack, not far behind, falls to the ground next to me, his hands finding my shoulders. 

He doesn't say anything as I gasp for breaths through my corrupted lungs and jellified heartache. 

"Jack," I rasp, squeezing the air down my throat. "I can't, I- I can't do this anymore. I can't be here." 

As I start choking on my cries, I feel Jack's fingertips gently work into my shoulders as an attempt to be comforting. I'm deaf and numb to any comfort of the sort. One of my quivering hands finds my throat, trying to snatch the constricted feeling away, but Jack takes my wrist and pulls it to his chest. 

"Breathe, Vera, breathe." His voice is meant to soothe, but I keep myself curled against the tree, facing the shadowy abyss of the jungle so far from the beach. He brushes a thumb over my stiffened mouth struggling to take in air, urging me to relax my face. I want nothing other than to slink into the void. To become nothingness.

"I'm here," he mumbles, taking my shoulders again to face me away from the jungle. "I'm right here." 

"That's the point," I sniffle. "I don't want you here. I don't want to be here. I want this to be done before I cause another person to die." 

"It's not your fault," Jack whispers. "What happened to Eric is not in your hands." 

"What about the others," I sob, scraping the moisture from my cheeks. "This can't keep happening, I need to be done. I can't be here." 

Jack shakes his head, unsure of what to say for a moment. 

"What do you mean?"

My head drops and my eyes squeeze shut, wringing the tears like a soaked rag. I feel his hands cup my face and angle me up to meet his eyes. 

"You're okay," he says in affirmation. Tt does nothing to ease my mind. "Everything is going to be okay." 

"Why are you here?" My words shoot with a dose of retaliation. "Why are you here right now? Why aren't you gone? Why won't you leave me alone?" 

"Because I-" He clamps his mouth shut and breathes heavily through his nose, reassembling his bearings. I watch him do this before he situates himself across from me, holding my face and arm with his hands, our legs tangled together.

"Veronica," he speaks carefully. "When I saw you on the plane- When I spoke to you for the first time. I never would've thought that we'd end up here." He sets his jaw. "I never thought- that we'd be the way we are now." 

My face twists up, and my head slowly shakes as the tears come in constant streams. 

"At the airport- I looked at you, not knowing that I'd eventually know so much about you, and be around you every second of every day." Jack's thumbs massage into my skin smoothly, not matching his splintering speech. 

"But I'd do it again," he says without hesitation. "Even if it meant I'd lose the opportunity to board a safer flight without you- Even if it meant I'd be able to avoid the crash- I'd still take the first plane just to do it all over again. As long as it meant I'd be meeting you." 

"Jack," I whimper. "I'm sorry, I just-" the words get cut off by my gasps for air through the crying. "Nothing about this will ever make all that's happened worth it to me." 

"I'm so sorry," his hushed words reach me. Jack tilts his head to get a better view of my face, obscured by my fallen hair and down-tilted chin. The moonlight catches a glimmer along his eyes, revealing the cracks of emotion. 

"I'm really sorry, Vera," he says again, voice breaking. "There's nothing that will make any of this okay. I'm so sorry." 

"I need to go home," I bleat, voice high and tight. Jack's hand that was resting on my arm moves to hold the other side of my face.

"I know." 

He presses his forehead to mine. I sniffle, holding his wrist. My injured palm hangs at my side, useless and throbbing. Jack has gone beyond the levels I once deemed unacceptable. He as a person can no longer be justified by what's considered typical reckless male behavior. He is irredeemable by any standard, and yet I can't deny his fondness, further proving the sickness of my being.

His gaze searches mine. Motivated by the yearn for comfort and human affection, I begin leaning in - Hesitating at first, testing the waters to see how he'd respond. His eyes narrow curiously at my action, but he quickly catches on as he mimics my movement. I start to jerk back, almost second-guessing. He pauses then as well. Slowly, my eyes fall shut as an invitation. Jack leans in. Our lips make contact. A soft, light kiss. In the end, I still don't know why I did it.

No. Stop. I pull back abruptly, the drilling of his icy eyes stabbing into the back of my mind. Tensed up, I stare at him in a few moments of surprise. He doesn't say anything. Instead, he cups my face and leans in, kissing me slightly harder. I can't do this. I do not want this.

"Just hold me," I whisper, putting my hand on his chest as a means to push away. The kiss deepens as I try, my nerves getting engulfed.

His hand presses against the small of my back to pull my frame closer to his, running a hand along my thigh and dragging up to my waist. Gasping at the sudden feeling, I grab his wrist. Stop now. Jack tenses up, but regains the lucid movement. He pulls me even closer, lifting me to his chest ever so slightly before shifting me onto his lap. 

His lips travel down to my jaw. Chills leak down my spine, leaving trails of cold residue to make me shiver. 

He's handling me gently, like I'm made of glass. Glass that's been strategically placed to harm me and wedged into my teeth, splitting my tongue and gums. Jack's lips make their way to the crook of my neck.

No. I can't. Stop now. 

"Jack," the whisper leaps from my numbed lips. I place a hand on his shoulder to push back. He goes down to my collarbone, every motion lingering on my skin.

"Jack," I repeat to steal his attention. His lips come back to mine before I can say anything else. I don't move my lips against his and I finally speak through his kissing. 

"Jack." 

He recedes back. "What?" 

I hesitate, trying to find the words I'd been wanting to say.

"I'm..." The breeze picks up, and it seems to take my trail thought with it, whisking it away into the night. My nerves feel shot, numbing my mind and mental processing. We can't do this. I open my mouth to continue, but no sound escapes. I just want to cry. I want to be held while I cry. Nothing more.

His hand cups my cheek, searching my face for a sign. 

"What's the matter?"

"...N-Nothing." 

His thumb caresses just under my eye as a form of comfort. I soak up the sliver of innocent affection. It's nothing more than a touch of purity without him needing to see me at my most raw state. 

"I just... want nothing." I say quietly. It's true. I want nothing - Just to feel a pair of comforting arms hug me as I work through my sorrow. I suck my tongue to the roof of my mouth as I hold back a sob. 

Again, his lips press to mine, and the moment of purity ends, severed by the neck. My mouth doesn't move against his as I realize, and shut my eyes in self-degradation. He leans forward, further and further until there's no need to anymore. His hand cradles the back of my head, easing it down gently to the cold ground.

A gasp harshly pries itself into my lungs once I lay on my back in this new position. Jack pauses, taking the moment to study my unresponsiveness. The war paint is unable to hide his own expression while his steady breaths graze my skin. I am completely, and entirely numb. 

Jack's fingers delicately fondle the buttons on my shirt, letting me know of his intention. I nod. If this may be the only way I can be loved by another; to have the attention of another fully on me, then I am nothing more than a body of flesh; Not worthy of knowing what actual love is. 

Cupping the base of his neck, I draw him in for another kiss, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks. An imaginary clutch takes my neck and constricts my throat when a familiar sense of his hand sculpting up the side of my thigh breaches my processing mind. This is all you're worth. This is all you're needed for. 

This is all I'm worth. This is all I'm needed for. I am expendable.

This is so disgustingly wrong, but someone as undeserving of mercy or compassion as me only deserves the realization that this is my sole purpose for someone else. The only way anyone will ever show me care. I was not built for love - This is what I am. 

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"Are you okay?" Jack questions softly. My head lays on his chest while I trace shapes on his skin, staring vacantly into the abyss at my understanding of what all had happened. 

"Define okay," I answer flatly.

Months ago, I would have eagerly smothered the arrogant boy with his pseudo-immaculate lifestyle in his sleep and surrendered to my iron plated nerves. The prospect of both worlds within the island, and the ones beyond it to civilization were seemingly much too potent now. It doesn't matter where I run to. Everything is more bad than good. 

He knows how to keep me sedate when it appeals to him. This disgusting realization dumps onto me like a horrid sludge. Normally he'd have me angrily stimulated and on the go to argue. Like JD, he's an addictive pill that my good sanity tells me to reject. He will not be satisfied until I overdose. 

Unable to forget the injured hand, I bring it close to my face and wince at the ugly condition of the burn. Stupidly, I stretch my hand open for a better inspection, accidentally pulling the damaged skin and make myself hiss in pain.

"Don't mess with it," He nudges me hard, sitting up. I don't pay him any mind, but his movement forces me to sit up as well.

"I need to head back to check on the others." I try to rebutton my shirt, but the stabbing pain in my palm is too unbearable and prevents most of my hand movement. Jack furrows his eyebrows and wordlessly buttons my shirt for me.

"You stay at Castle Rock tonight, so I can keep an eye on you."

"Uhm- no, I won't," I say quickly. "I shouldn't have stayed here this long. God, I'm such a fucking idiot." I drown my words into my hands, feeling the tears return. 

"You're not thinking clearly."

"You think I don't fucking know that?" I explode. "I don't need you to supervise me over a burn so you can charm your way into making me stay with you again."

"It's not about how well you think you're able to manage yourself, Veronica," Jack disregards. "You've seen enough death in the past two nights, and you were already willing to harm yourself." 

"And yet, you still won't stop." I finally look him in the eye. "Nothing will ever be enough to make you put an end to this."

The words shoot through Jack's cranium. He watches me for a moment with an unreadable expression that I loathe before finally speaking again.

"I don't need you to be off on your own without someone to monitor you."

I scoff bitterly, an ugly curl twisting my upper lip. "Oh, how rich."

"I'm serious."

"So what, you want me on suicide watch now?" I ask dumbly. "I'm not gonna do anything as stupid as that. I'm not doing that to Ralph, or Piggy."

Finally, when I try to rise to my feet, Jack pulls me back down by my shoulders. "Either way, you shouldn't be alone right now after everything."

Alone? I have to laugh. 

"I- where do you think I'll be going? I'm staying with the others in my camp. That doesn't sound very alone." I roll my eyes and stand up, heading down to the dying bonfire on the beach. He follows close behind, back to where we started. 

"I need to get going back to my end now," I mumble. Jack manages to find another reason to stop me.

"You need to bandage that." He points out my injury. 

"I'm fine." I quickly insist. He buzzes his lips and touches my unharmed hand.

"You're not. Let me bandage it. Stay right here." He jogs away to a shelter.

I stare at his back as he goes. I don't deserve any better than this. I deserve Jack. I'm never going to be more than his accessory to be used for his need.

I suck in a harsh breath of air at the realization of everything that happened in the past hour. The tears start to form in my eyes as the memories settle in my mind once more.

"Holy shit," I mumble, pressing my fist to my mouth to hold a sob back, instead illiciting a long, feeble whine that whimpered out of me. It hurts. This wretched disgust that squeezes my limbs and mingles with the self-deprecating integrity of my values. 

I glance down at my blistered palm with the pain still extremely evident. Hardly any blood as I'd expect, due to being cauterized. Jack then approaches with an old white shirt and a coconut shell of water.

"Here, sit down." He instructs me directly. I slowly obey as he does the same. Once he starts washing the burn with saltwater, I study his concentrated face, trying to ignore the raging sting. It definitely burns more, but the pain gradually dwindles to a throb.

Not sure what compels me to the next course of action, I lean my head to his shoulder and allow him to clean my injury, keeping my hand lifted. Jack doesn't even address my soft cries. 

This is what I want. Gentle affection; only unlocked after sacrificing my body in exchange. That's what happens when you agree to let someone use you as they please. That is what I agreed to. Those were the terms, and now this is what I get. This is what I deserve. 

He tears away long strips from the white shirt, and wraps my hand.

"Thank you," I whisper, lifting my head to meet his eyes. Jack's eye lids flutter over his blue eyes softly, wrapping his arms around me to hold me against his chest. He rocks back and forth, consoling me. The long awaited feeling I craved. 

"I just want to make sure you're alright..." He trails off quietly. Finally, I lift my head again, keeping my arms wrapped behind his neck. A cold breeze drifts over the beach, making me shiver.

"Are you cold?" Jack takes notice of my state quickly. I began reaching for a certain clothing item. "Uh yeah, but I have my blazer-" I sharply pause, appalled by the blood, reminding myself of how sick and disgusting of a human being I've become.

"Damn," Jack said in an disgusted whisper. The water works return. Of course. I start folding the jacket neatly -- I don't know if I should wash it or never wear the thing again.

"Let me get my jacket for you." 

I watch as he leaves before flexing the fingers on my injured hand. Painfully wincing, I attempt to ignore the nagging burn and stare into the flames of the fire. Shortly after, Jack returns with his old jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

Shoving my arms into the sleeves, I think back to the first time he tried to offer his coat.

"Just stay with me tonight," he persists, touching my arm. "And you can go back to your friends first thing in the morning."

Pausing, I eye him in perplexion. But, his words do reach. I nod, super faintly at first to where it wouldn't be noticeable. Soon enough, my head bobs up and down. He sighs in what could only be relief, and I berate myself for every action.

"But I don't wanna be anywhere near Roger," I blurt. His lips form a line in understanding. 

"I know," he nods. "We can stay here and sleep."

Ralph and Piggy. I am ditching them by doing this. Serving them with another terrible betrayal. If they proceed to hate me from here on out- if they choose to reject me, I will tell them I understand. The knowledge of this rattles the gap in my chest. I swallow down the urge to vomit, feeling the revulsion tighten around my skin. I am just a sickness to taint the Earth. 

Jack lays back, staring up at the stars. Laying my head on his chest, I look past his face and out to the sea, letting the realization of myself bounce within my skull. All the while, he traces lines down my arm. We continue this practice till sleep claims us into ownership.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

I don't know what exactly woke me up so early the next morning. Maybe an abnormally large wave crashed, disturbing me out of my sleep. Or maybe it's the more obvious answer; the fact that Jack is gone. He up and left before I woke or some time late in the night. Then again, that makes it easier for me. I won't have to deal with the painful awkwardness of explaining to him why I'd have to leave back to Ralph's camp. Or what if he didn't want to be seen with me by any of the hunters? I suppose it doesn't matter that much.

Upon peeling my creaky eyelids open, I now stare at the beach through a blue film, courtesy of the constant sun rays beaming onto my closed eyes. My photoreceptors will have to adjust again. I have to squint, blinded even more with everything appearing blue.

Partially annoyed, I rub my scalp, reminding myself of the trusty ole hairbrush. Huffing out a sigh, I begin detangling the knots that wound up in my hair from constant, swimming, running, and sleeping on sand. There's always those moments you have when you wake up in the morning -- you feel okay because you haven't remembered anything bad about the day before yet. But when it clicks, the respite vanishes sooner than you can relish in it.

"Shit," I groan, glancing to my blazer folded up a few feet away. The blood. As I gradually reach out to grab it, I must've stretched my hand a bit too wide. White, hot pain lances through my palm, making me hiss in pain and jerk back. Looking down at the bandaging, I see two blue sleeves dressing my arms. Thick fabric hangs on my shoulders after being so graciously offered to me; Jack's uniform coat. Oh, yes, now I remember. 

My hand slaps over my mouth at the full realization of what I'd done. What I allowed. From Eric dying, to staying with Jack for the night. How the fuck could I have let it happen? The loathing nausea of disgust clogs my throat and writhes within my stomach acid. How could I stay with Jack? How could I have dropped all self-respect and then go on to have disrespected the tragic events of last night? 

Gross shivers coat my skin as I recall the way one thing led to another; Emotional turmoil had clouded my better judgment. The deafening yearn for human comfort poisoned me, and I gave in. I enabled the enabler during my moment of unclarity. Is that what he wanted, or did he truly care?

You're a sick, disgusting human being.

You're sick. 

Sick. 

Sick.

Sick.

I let the jacket slip off my shoulders, letting it hang lazily from the joints of my elbows as I rise up. My feet sink into the hot sand, as expected. Using my right hand this time, I pick up my blazer. Somehow the red color manages to show up louder over the black material. Just looking at the deep stains feels all too unbearable, and I feel sickly to let them stay there. Gulping, I make a beeline to the ocean. She greets me on this early morning of... -I don't know what day it is- by rushing up softly over my feet, tickling my ankles.

I leg it out to where I'm knee deep, and start working out the blood out with my right hand, avoiding getting my bandages wet. My thumb scrubs into them while hot tears spring out of my eyes as I exhale shuddering breaths with the ocean. It's like putting a drop of food dye into water, or pressing the tip of a sharpie pen onto a piece of paper way too hard. Clouds of red fill the area around me, and once I notice it, I jump back with a small shriek into the clearer water.

Trudging back up to shore, the waves lap at my legs like salty tongues licking my skin. The worn blazer drags behind me, ebbing and flowing. I choose to leave Jack's coat by the dead bonfire, no longer wanting anything to do with it.

God, no one was supposed to die. That was the point of us being there. Maybe I should add Eric to the list. I'm good as responsible for his death at this point. I walked Eric straight into this. He was just starting out life before he got dropped off in this hell hole, trapped with the worst people imaginable.

As the sand swallows my footsteps, my vision is awry: A soup of shapes and blurs to accompany my thoughts. A swirl of water colors. I blink, and the water colors assemble into angles and a defined landscape. 

I see clearly again. I'm back at camp. Piggy and Ralph are here, sitting a distance back from a quiet Sam. He's sitting on the fallen tree trunk, staring out into the ocean. I start my way over to him, but my mind gets the better of me. Intimidated by my own thoughts, I divert direction to Ralph and Piggy.

"Veronica..." The words fall loosely from Ralph's lips. One moment, he's a few feet away from me, then the next, I'm suddenly wrapped in his tight embrace. I shift, raising my arms up to his sides, not reciprocating the hug. Before I could process, he pulls back, gripping my shoulders.

"What's wrong with your hand?" Ralph holds my wrist, studying the bandaging. An odd feeling of guilt pokes at me.

"I just fell near the bonfire and got my hand burned on the rocks." Seamless. That's how the words came out. I wouldn't expect myself to be lying either. 

Ralph looks me in the eye knowingly, and asks, "Did Jack wrap it?"

"... yeah. He did actually."

He nods in acceptance despite clearly not taking a liking to this information. Maybe it's luck, but I don't have to be the one bringing up my late night whereabouts as he asks another drilling question.

"I assume that's who you were with all night...?" His eyes narrow to me.

Gulping my shame, I nod confidently. Ralph purses his lips, and does something I don't expect; he just pulls me in to hug again. Piggy stares at me, not in hate or anything. They should hate me for suggesting that we go there in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Ralph whispers. My eye brows furrow in confusion.

"Ralph, for- for what?"

"For going after Jack when you had it under control." He mutters in shame. Stunned, my eyes widen at his wildly different take on the situation. "None of that riot stuff would have started up. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry."

I shake my head rapidly and pull back from his sturdy arms.

"No. What? No, it's not- It's not your fault. I'm the one who said we should have gone in the first place-"

"- And it was good in theory," he cuts me off, sadly forcing a small smile to reassure me. "Jack wasn't doing anything, because you occupied him. I didn't trust your judgement."

Standing and blinking, I hold a hand up. "I think there's a bigger tragedy at hand," I glance back at Sam who sat alone. The dread gnawed at my insides, my chest knotting into a cold mass. I look back at Ralph as if to tell him to hold on a minute. He gave a quick nod to show he understood, and quickly left me standing there, fleeing the inevitable scene. Sighing, I walk over and sit by the lone painted twin. If he took notice of me, he didn't make it known. 

"Hi," I say softly after an uncomfortable pause. I can't catch a glimpse of his face with the distance between us. Sam stares blankly ahead, not returning the greeting. Finally, the ceiling of tension collapsed in, and the short, stunted words crawled from the rubble.

"Eric's dead."

Two simple words, ran down to the ground. No inflection to grace the truth. 

He's in shock, I acknowledge, just for myself. 

"Were you there?" The brittle words rasp out, but I know the blank demeanor will soon crumble. There are no visible tears in my line of sight from the angle I'm sitting. The lack of emotion tells me there are none, but I don't want to know if they're there. I'd rather not face the unavoidable display of emotions.

"Yes... yes, I was."

His face makes a subtle reaction that I catch due to the flex in his temple, like he understood that simple answer.

There you are.

"What happened?"

The fleshy knot tightens harder in my chest for his question. I can remember it all... Roger, with his spear, and- My breath hitches, sounding like an airy hiccup that I stifle back. Cobbling up the courage, I answer as gently as possible. 

"It was Roger."

"Oh."

Silence follows. He's a brick wall right now. I don't know how I'll explain anything. Slinking my sopping blazer on the trunk, I clasp my hands together on my lap, waiting for something else to happen. I'm unsure if I am meant to be unnerved by his rigid, emotionless way of speaking. 

"I had to bury my brother last night, next to Captain Benson."

The words suddenly catch in the back of his throat. 

"I don't remember burying him," he utters, voice rattled. "I remember seeing him dead. It's all black from there, then the next thing I know is that he's been buried." 

His words and inflection no longer curve with a tune of innocent youth. Figuratively speaking, the words he spoke reek with death, for his inner child is rotting; Decaying with the boy who lay in a grave up on the hill. Any trace of emotion is now gone. Flattened to the earth.

"Sam..." I say slowly, preparing myself for the mental plague. "I made us all go."

His frame stiffens up, somehow more than it already is, but he doesn't turn to look at me. 

"We... we were supposed to make sure that nothing happened, and... we failed."

I feel my soul bleed at the confession. Sure, I meant well, but look at what well-meant did. My fingers tangle together as I will myself to speak against the gripping nausea in my stomach.

"Eric was gonna apologize." 

His body language speaks again, shifting in faint perplexity and confusion, like my words further stumped and hurt him. 

"Eric was gonna apologize? To me?" His unbelievably nonchalant voice suddenly cracks in that moment, temporarily revealing the raw emotions boiling tirelessly within him. 

"Yeah..." I press my lips together in a sad line of sympathy despite the fact that he can't see my face. 

"He wouldn't have been there if you didn't make him go," Sam's words roll over darkly, but his tone is as flat and restrained as ever. It was as though the floor gave out beneath me, leaving us both suspended in the thick air as I muster up my next line of words in an attempt to mend something in this catastrophic mess.

"I'm so, so sorry, Sam." My ragged breaths now come in shallow gasps as I scrape to maintain composure. A flush of heat envelopes my face as the fresh swell of tears further distort the image ahead of me, though that doesn't make it any less unbearable. 

"I was supposed to make sure nothing else happened and I know that I failed. I'm sorry." The first quivering sob wrenches free. 

"I forgive you." He surprises me with his words. He too said it very matter of factly just then. "You didn't know," the boy continues. I can't even see his face. I was actually leaning back a bit so he wouldn't see my face.

"No one here can punish you, but you're gonna remember it for the rest of your life." Sam turns to look at me for the first time during this whole conversation, making me flinch back from the unexpected. Tears are streaming endlessly down his cheeks, but his face remains as stone cold as ever. Seeing his face pushes me back over the edge with that same sentence repeating in my ears.

You're gonna remember it for the rest of your life.

Letting out a shuddering sigh and sniffling, I nod, not knowing what else to do as the aching hollowness eats my limbs' interior. What can I do? Steadily running tears cut tracks through the paint and grime coating his face, and clear skin peakaboos through, like a glimmer of his lost innocence.

Pressing my lips together to hold back on any weeps that could confuse him in this state, I clutch his wrist comfortingly, but quickly relinquish. He continues to look at me through the lost expression as the tears don't cease. 

"Sam," I whisper again, reaching out and cupping his face, internally pleading for forgiveness. He doesn't flinch at the contact, and I persist with stifled sobs as my fronting walls crumble again. With my hand still holding his face, I start wiping the tears from his cheeks as he won't be making a move to wipe them in his shock. In the process, some of the dried paint crumbles and rubs away.

"I'm really scared. Veronica." His voice finally cracks, resonating through the gap within my chest. I feel my nerves shrivel as his small, choked voice implodes my already splintered sense of composure and fragmented understanding. 

"I know," My voice strains in my tight throat. I can only find it in myself to cup his face for any comfort. "I am, too."

"I don't want to go back to Jack's camp," he mumbles as I continue to prod his cheeks, mopping up his tears. "But I have to go back."

I can no longer control my facial expression as the deafening weight of his words crush the last bit of my standing clarity. My head shakes as I try to gather the logic like I'm grasping at straws.

"Why?" I implore the reasoning, searching desperately for an answer in his blank face. "Why after-" 

"Because it's just better now that it's the winning side, but I'm afraid of Roger."

I try piecing this together against my racing mind. Knitting my brows, I can only shake my head again. 

"But- If you join back with us-"

" - I won't," he cuts me off, but then melts back into a softer stance. "I can't."

"Why?" I repeat, sharper this time. My jaw tenses against the restless quivering nearly making my teeth chatter. The dull ring persistently drones in my ears as I await a logical conclusion.

"Nothing's left," Sam responds dolefully. "There's nothing left. Eric's dead, and no one's looking for us. There's nothing." His face twitches again, like the cold expression is a rubber mask that he's clawing against. 

"Nothing can be done now. Can you not process that, Veronica? It's all done." 

Sam removes himself from the log now, standing before me against my bewilderment.

"Only Jack can help us now. The fire is hopeless. We aren't getting out of here, so stop trying." Each word falls like a row of icicles taking their turn to stab the frozen ground. 

"Sam, you don't know that-"

"Stop being in denial, and stop dragging us down with you just because you can't accept it like the rest of us. We're all done. It's done. Give it up." 

I can only shake my head again dumbly as my heart rate senselessly speeds up, halting any coherent thoughts. 

"I'm going now," Sam announces, leaving me stunned as he exits the conversation. Ralph rushes over after seeing what unfolded. 

"Where is he going??"

"Back..." I answer in surprise. The three of us watch his back as he walks away normally, as if the conversation never happened. We were a tribe of four, now down to three. 

"I'm gonna follow him to make sure he gets there safely," I let them know before rushing to Sam's trail.

He very quickly takes notice of my presence, but he doesn't seem to care. Occasionally he sobs without his face scrunching up. It's like his body and mind are wanting to do two different things. I try talking to him, only getting flat, short responses. 

Once we get to Castle Rock, I start to purposely fall behind knowing that Sam has made it okay, and I do not want to be seen by the others.

I only pause when I hear the screaming. Shrill, frantic screaming behind a bunch of excited chanting. Fuck. I start sprinting, brushing past the slow moving Sam to discover what's causing the commotion.

Tony and Luke hold a thrashing Peter by his limbs, laughing and hollering as long red slashes appear engraved across his back; Roger whipping him with a cord. Frozen, I only stare at them for a moment, shocked that this would even be happening. Then, it all snaps.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I start to stride forward to Roger. On cue, Jack walks down the path and pulls me back. I'm getting ahead of myself...

"Alright, that's enough," he waves them off nonchalantly. Only then does the torture stop. Tony and Luke lower Peter who immediately rushes to hug me, Roger watching behind him with no expression. 

Jack's eyes follow the young boy until they land on me. Something flashes across his face - recognition and surprise, like he's only now fully processed my presence. Wrapping my arms around Peter's small trembling frame, I'm careful to not touch the thin wounds. I send a horrified expression to Jack who stands there, watching me.

I am hit with the nausea I felt last night as I remember what I'd done. What I allowed, and what I gave into. 

"Why are you here?" He finally questions me in a wooden voice. I notice it; his question wavered, and I see his hard mask slip momentarily as he claws to keep his upright composure. I bite my cheek, retaining anger around Roger who is carefully surveying me.

"Walking Sam back since he apparently wants to stay in your tribe, for whatever reason."

Seeing how close the chief is, Peter yelps and scurries off. I watch him sadly as he leaves, then rest my focus on Jack.

"I hope it was worth it," I reference last night bitterly. Jack only stares at me, not answering at first. I'm just as wretched as him, and yet, I refuse to fully settle on this fact.

"I really need you to go," he finally says, eyeing the group of hunters before us. I frown and glance at them.

"You're not gonna explain what I just saw??"

Jack makes me clamp my mouth shut as he makes big strides up to me, grabbing my arm. It startles me, but only for a moment. His eyes are bore into mine. I'm not sure what's the matter with him, but he seems rushed, flustered even, and is only cobbling his composure together by hiding behind the warpaint and his demanding presence. Jack is wearing a knowing expression as he steadily speaks again.

"This is not the place for you." His words come out firm and smooth, not yelling or showing much emotion. Regardless, I pick up on his sense of worry and urgency as he looks me in the eyes. I furrow my brows, silently indicating my question. His blank, pleading face only pursues as the tangible silence drips.

"Jack... I-" My words stumble out uneasily. I want to mouth - what's wrong? - but ultimately decide against it. His face begins to harden, seething beneath the surface like he's anxious about something. One would only be able to see this up close.

"I just wanted to walk Sam back- then I saw what was happening to Peter, and-"

"It's time for you to go." Jack states again in the same clenched tone.

"But you just-"

" - Go." He cuts me off, his voice dark as ever. Being a sputtering mess for a moment, I breathe in and turn to leave as they all stare me down. I run; all the way to camp.

When I reach Ralph and Piggy, I look them dead in the eye and say, "Come with me to the hill with that cave."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

We all look down at the freshly shoveled dirt. A fake funeral that I lacked out on instead of grieving for Sam and Eric. Benson and Eric don't deserve shallow graves. It's not right. Simon is somewhere now-- it sickens me to think about the state of his body-- but at least it's not a small hole on a hill.

"I'm so sorry, Eric," I mutter. "This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't..." God, I sound like a broken record. Ralph squeezes my hand before legging it down the hill, Piggy soon following suit after flashing me a few more glances.

Out of curiosity, I pull out my rose quartz, and tilt my head back towards the sky. Like I had done in Simon's spot in the forest, I eclipse the stone over the sun, waiting for another sign. To no avail, I don't get that same feeling.

I sit criss-cross at the foot of the grave, and I think about the conversation I had with Eric in the forest. He was so broken. I recall the events leading up to now. God, we really are monsters. It was us all along.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

I don't even think to head back until the sky starts dissolving into that cutesy pink color that it does around sunset. I sit next to Ralph on the tree trunk while Piggy washes off his jacket in the water. I think about the encounter with Jack. There was a flicker in his words and something dancing in his expression that I couldn't quite grasp. I should've waited the extra second before running off to see if he could provide an explanation by mouthing a single word, a motion, or something of that matter. It only left me all the more confused. It seemed as though he was splitting at the seams; crumbling before my eyes. I could tell he was urgent about something - I caught on. It was masked by his built-up menacing persona.

I clung to any scrap of humanity he displayed, though it's evident to me that he didn't mean for me to see it - or maybe he did. Maybe he was trying to get a message across to me. It was too subtle for me to catch what it was. I could only ponder that instance, twisting it, and turning it inside out as my mind scrapped for answers.

"You know, this island could have been great if we weren't stuck with a bunch of defectors," I try to muse in the somber mood. Ralph looks at me and smiles softly.

"I see you're feeling better?"

"No. Not at all, but... I'm surviving," I smile back softly. Ralph glances down at the ground shyly.

"Surviving isn't the same as truly living," he points out. 

"Yeah? Well, I started surviving way before we crashed here." As my sentence finishes, Piggy walks back up from the water, hanging his jacket to dry.

"You know..." The nerdish boy starts slowly. "Maybe we should just build a raft and row off." He plops down next to my left, leaving me in the middle of the two boys.

"I will if you will," Ralph laughs, clearly exhausted. I rest my chin on my hand as my elbow is propped up on my knee. We all stay silent.

"Well?" Ralph urges Piggy for a genuine answer. Piggy opens his mouth, stuttering as he sorts through his responses. 

"Uh, well... we don't really know whats out there."

Ralph rolls his eyes, not at us in particular. "I'll bet you that out past the reef, there's plenty of boats that go by everyday." 

I look out to the ocean with his words. "And one of them could come rescue us," He insists surely.

"Yeah? Well, suppose it didn't," Piggy challenged. "Suppose it was Russian. Then what? We'd be taken prisoner."

I roll my eyes, smirking and shaking my head at his little theory. Ralph laughs along. 

"The Russians wouldn't take us prisoner," he grins widely.

"I dunno..." Piggy shakes his head with uncertainty. "Major Dingledine, my uncle told me-"

"Major Dingledine?" I cut in, screwing up my face at the name. Piggy nods matter of factly.

"Yeah, he said that if the Russians invaded the U.S, they would take the kids and seperate us from our families..." Piggy pushes his cracked glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"And I know it sounds weird... but they might make us go into the Olympics or something!" He exclaims.

Ralph and I start giggling at the silly idea, earning a confused reaction from Piggy as we laugh together.

"I don't see what's so funny..." The boy sounds slightly offended.

"Piggy, I don't think you have to worry about the Russians forcing you into the Olympics..." He says suggestivly, making us continue the fit of giggles. Soon enough, Piggy starts laughing at how far fetched it seemed.

Something catches my eye, sticking out in the water. 

"Hey, what's that?" I point out the object. We hop up and trot through the strong waves, lugging the thing back to shore.

It's an instrument... An accordion!! Damaged as ever. We sit back down with the artifact, and Ralph begins to pretend-play on the keyboard that no longer produces music. He makes sounds with his voice in place of it, making me chuckle at him.

"Where do ya think it comes from?" Piggy asks curiously. I look up at him like Jack does when telling campfire stories.

"A Russian submarine..." I say mystically. "Full of Olympic athletes!" Flashing my eyes at the last word, he grins at me and we turn focus back to Ralph.

For the next while, we muse, laugh, and talk. Everything actually feels okay for the first time in a while, and we stay out until dusk finally falls.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

We are at Kurt and Ram's funeral. 1989. The chapel air is stuffish and my funeral attire is clunky. A melancholy tune from the organ player drifts through the air as the boys' fathers speak in turn.

JD is next to me, patting my hand from time to time as I squint through the small tinsel veil hanging over my face that my mom insisted on me wearing. Out of respect, she said, assuming I was friends with those boys.

They were just seventeen. They still had room to grow. They could've turned out good, but now we'll never know.

JD told me repeatedly, 'they were bad people. They hurt you. They can't make you cry anymore.' I chanted those reminders to myself like a healing mantra to ease my guilt-ridden mind. With every tear that dripped down their parents' faces, my heart squelched into itself a bit more. There's no running from the truth.

Two caskets sat side by side. Looking at them was like looking at the blazing sun. My eyes couldn't settle on the sight for too long. It stung.

"I wish our boys could've felt comfortable enough in their sexuality to speak out about it before they participated in this pact." Kurt's father was weeping as he spoke; choked up tears and red-faced.

I purse my lips and glance down anxiously as the fabricated story I wrote in the forged suicide note was now being spoken as if it were confirmed true. Kurt and Ram were supposedly straight as a line, though the rumors said otherwise. In my defense, JD convinced me that writing it was for a prank, but... even telling myself that, I still feel-

"It is ignorant hateful talk that makes this world a place our boys could not live in," he loudly proclaimed. JD stifled a laugh rather successfully, but I could hear it clear as day.

"If there's anyway you can hear me, Kurt buddy..." the father stared down into the casket, holding his son's football helmet.

"I don't really care if you were some 'pansy'. You're my own flesh and blood, and I love you."

Someone blew their nose in the background, and soft sobs began to grow in volume as did my discomfort. You deserve to feel discomfort. I swallow the hard knot forming in the back of my throat, pushing down the constricting sensation.

"You always made me proud, son." He finalized his statement by placing the helmet in the casket. I can't help but roll my eyes.

'Oh, spare me, Mr. Kelly,' I thought bitterly.

Ram and Kurt's families are some of the most hateful people around. The prospect of their sons being gay would've disgusted them just last week, but now they've quote unquote, 'died in a suicide pact.' Does it seriously take someone dying to open their eyes?

JD leans over to whisper in my ear, grinning smugly.

"I think he loves his dead gay son," he whispered mockingly in my ear. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and ignored him, though JD's dumb jokes and jabs regarding the two bullies normally made me laugh. JD made a look of understanding when I intentionally disregarded the snide comment, but another mischievous look flashed across his face.

"How do you think he'd react to a son that had a limp wrist with a pulse?" He mumbled sarcastically. The reality of that statement made me crack up as I spluttered through my lips and chuckled.

The slight sound of laughter carried to a little girl who sat in the front row, unbeknownst to me. She immediately turned around to look at JD and I. Upon seeing her face, my amused expression sunk away like a curtain, the smile being replaced with regret as I realized it was Kurt's little sister. She was wearing his varsity letterman jacket, weeping. I connected the dots right then. She heard me laugh.

My heart squeezed at the sight of her puffy face from endless tears. She hiccups, looking at me sadly before turning back around. I exhaled and swallowed again as the pressure of her long gaze left some lasting residue on me. I caught my insensitivity by a hook once again and glanced down at my tangled hands as JD continued to squirm in boredom. He didn't see the look on that little girl's face. The venomous burn of tears welled up along my eyes again.

"I'll be right back," I whispered breathily to JD and rose up, swiveling to the exit door.

I exploded out into the lobby, not minding the few guests that were already there, weeping, as they had also needed to step out. I made a beeline for the restrooms. When I found the ladies room, I busted in and collapsed over a sink, jerking with gasping sobs that sounded as though I was dying.

I nearly retched as I hastily threw off the tiny veil to the side, shouldered off my purse, and clambered out of my clunky black jacket. The acid in my stomach relentlessly boiled and churned. Clapping a hand over my mouth, sobs rolled around the back of my throat. My palms found the edge of the sink again, painfully pressing against it for stability with the room spinning. It was still too hot, and my clothes were still too restricting. The gunshots persistently rang in my skull, taunting me to no end. The echoes bounced around where my brain should be. It hurt, and launched a splitting headache. I covered my ears, wanting to scream.

Get out of my head, get out of my head, get out of my head!

My eyes squeezed shut due to the strain of my migraine, and then I turned the water on to splash my face. The water was nice and cool. 'Get it together, Sawyer.' I sucked in my short gasps, swallowing hard. Choking on my cries, I looked up in the mirror at my distraught reflection. What a wreck. My chest heaved, unable to catch up with my abundant need for oxygen.

What the fuck am I doing? Why am I even here? They had families. They had lives, a future. They were the star football players, of course they had futures with those prestigious scholarships. That little girl... I sob loudly again, resting my elbows against the sink as I buried my face in my hands. Guilt and regret. What an emotion. Oh, to be human. To be a monstrous human.

My fingers quaked and lurched. Closing my eyes, I sniffled then gasped wretchedly as an attempt to count my breaths in a calming manner. I start reaching out to the paper towel dispenser; My grip was weak from the emotions that shook me. I couldn't manage to retrieve one. A scowl adorned my face as the frustration swelled up in my chest, finally shouting out as I managed to rip a paper towel free. Fucking finally.

I whimpered and dried my face. I'm so sorry, I said to myself. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let him do it. I'm sorry. Hiccuping, I crushed the paper towel in my shaky fist and dropped it in the bin. Forcing myself to straighten up was a chore. I'd have take go back out before JD became suspicious. I stared in the mirror, forcing a neutral facial expression as I raked my fingers through my disheveled hair. I cobbled myself back together and made my way back. The hallway seemed to stretch further away as I moved, leaving me on a brink of insanity. Everything snapped back to normal as I parted the double doors. I froze momentarily before walking back to my seat.

JD looked up at me and my rigid stance. I forced myself to sit back down, keeping composure. He nudged me with his elbow, and I pretend not to notice. I couldn't let him get a good look at my face. I couldn't let him see I was breaking. I can't let him lose trust in me. He's too dangerous.

"Hey," he snapped me out of my thoughts. "Wanna get outta here?" He nodded his head back to the exit door. 

"Huh?"

"I said..." He leaned in closer, speaking through his white teeth. "Wanna get out of here?"

Taking his words into consideration, I took another swift glance around the chapel, assessing people's focus as well as Ram and Kurt's families up front. My face twisted in contemplation, but I ultimately looked back at JD.

"I guess."

He smirked and winked in the same familiar way.

"Our love is God," he nudged my arm again with his elbow. "Let's go get a slushie."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Ralph shakes me awake sometime late in the night -- I wouldn't know the time. Groggy and annoyed, I snap at him with something like, what is it now?

"Your boyfriend!" He retorts in a hushed whisper. I give him a confused look. "The damned hunters are outside taunting Piggy."

I pause and strain my ears to hear some sort of sound. Sure enough I see the silhouettes and flashes of red. Then come the voices.

"I hear you there, Piggy!" Drawls out a sing-song voice. Another one picks up, a lot raspier.

"Come out side, Piggy. It's the monster! I want you, Piggy..." That's unmistakably Jack. While I'm annoyed, Piggy for one is whimpering up a storm and hiding his face.

A spear stabs through the walls of our shelter and the voices start screaming profanities and taunts. I even shriek when the weapon strikes through.

"Piiiiggy, Piiiigggyyyy!"

"Come on outside!"

"Oink, oink, oink!

"Kill the pig, spill his blood!"

Spears shove through the foliage in every direction, taunting us as they barely miss our bodies. "Why can't you just leave us alone?" Ralph shouts, cracking his voice.

A hand reaches through, snatching Piggy's glasses off of his face, making anger boil in my chest.

"Give 'em back!" He wails as the cruel laughter comes in a roar.

"I got 'em! I got the glasses!" Someone yells. This will be the 2nd time we've been raided by the hunters... I try yelling back at them, but it's really no use.

Screaming and chanting, Jack's tribe starts sprinting away in triumph for their steal. The walls of our shelter fall in on us, because why the hell would we have luck for once??

Ralph and I crawl out, watching them rush away into the distance. "What the hell do ya think you're doing??" I screech back at them. The closer ones turn around and sneer before joining the rest.

Aaaaaand there goes our source for fire...

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Piggy sits next to me, crying the next morning over his glasses. His shoulders jerk with every small sob, making me feel worse. "Oh, God..." He moans as Ralph walks around the corner, carrying two half coconut shells with water.

I look at Piggy sidelong without a word as Ralph hands him a cup of water. 

"Here," he hands one to me. I mumble a small thanks and grasp it with both hands, looking in at my reflection.

Piggy takes a long sip, almost drowning his sorrows. A red hue takes on a shade of his face, puffy as ever. "We did everything the way grownups would..." He weeps, hiccuping. "Why didn't it work?"

I swallow hard and look back at my water, which I have yet to take a drink of. 

"Things would be much better if it weren't for him!" He spat bitterly, referring to Jack. I bite the inside of my cheek, pursing my lips in contemplation. I understood the weeping boy, and there was little I could offer to do.

"I wish he was dead." Piggy states, sobbing the last word. I don't even attempt to answer. Ralph shakes his head to talk him down.

"No, you don't..."

"I do!" He insists, wiping his tears. I look at Ralph awkwardly while Piggy cries.

"You know, we could just give up, and join his tribe!" Piggy starts, trying to sound practical as his voice wavers. Now that makes me snap my head back to him, unsure if I heard correctly.

"Then we'd at least be with the others!" He reasons. My face screws up at the insane words. If we did, we could turn out just as bad as them.

"No, Piggy..." I say softly. He looks at me as the tears roll down his sob-swollen face.

"Veronica," he starts, chest heaving. "I can't see." I pat him on the shoulder.

"I know..." I sigh, nodding in understanding. Sniffling, Piggy grabs the conch and holds it out in front of himself. He pauses lamely as the curtain flickers in his brain.

"Now we're gonna march right over to that Jack Merridew! And we're gonna say that he has to give my glasses back!" He rises up from the log, continuing his words.

"I'm going to tell him -- with the conch in my hands -- You don't have asthma, Jack Merridew! And you can see, and you're a lot stronger than I am... I'm not asking for my glasses back, not as a favor. No, not for you to be a sport about it. I'll say, not because you're strong, but because what's right is right! Give me my glasses back -- I'll say, you have to!"

He repeats the last phrase a few times, only under his breath as he grips the shell, shaking. With a flushed face, Piggy then shoves the conch into my hands to get rid of it, like some ticking bomb. Embarrassed and still recovering from the brief adrenaline rush, he clears his throat and wipes the tears from his eyes. I smile at him sheepishly, quite impressed.

"We'll go together," I state confidently. Ralph hops up and walks over. Taking the shell from my hands, he holds it back out to Piggy.

"You should carry it," he offers. Suddenly nervous, Piggy shakes his head with such vigor. 

"I can't!!"

"Why?" Ralph inquires, smiling doubtfully.

"I'm not strong!" Piggy justifies, breathing hard as his anxiety-ridden nerves flicker on. Breaking out into a grin, I insist to him, "You are strong."

Ralph holds the shell even closer. Relenting, the boy cradles in under his arm. 

"I won't be able to see on the way there," he mumbles.

"We're a team," I promise, holding out a hand. "We'll lead the way." Hesitant at first, Piggy does finally grab my hand. Smiling in approval to him, I turn to Ralph and hold out my other hand. All linked together now, a sense of strength and pride fills me.

"We'll show Jack we're better than them just by going as we are. So, before we break out into song, let's go get your glasses back. What do ya say?"

Taking on a prideful expression, Ralph and Piggy nod eagerly. And so it goes, the walk to Castle Rock.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"Here's a little tip- Word to the wise. Here's a little snippet of advice; Men are fools. Oh, men are frail. Give 'em the rope and they'll hang themselves."

♕︎♕︎♕︎