𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

While fire watch is one of the most necessary things to do - it's one of the most boring, dragged out, and uneventful tasks of just staring into empty flames and counting waves, waiting for some ship or helicopter to come by. I buzzed my lips in boredom. Tony is normally a 'comedy genius' but even he gets bored.

On a more positive note, the grass is starting to reappear in the area of the fire watch. It was charred for so, so long. Clumps of spiry points are starting to tenderly sprout again. Crisp green grass now sitting cheerfully, reaching for the sky. I don't reckon that any of the others gave a moment to appreciate the sight, or have nonetheless shown any regard for it.

"Back at Valley Forge, everything was so uptight," Tony explains out of the blue. I turn to listen. "The rules were strict. Your hair had to be a certain length, we had a weird sleep schedule and the food was only okay."

I chuckle at the last part and toss a stick into our fire, watching the flames devour it. 

"That's military school for you." The boy shrugs.

"I mean, it wasn't all bad." He bites his lip in thought. Andy didn't seem as interested, yet he did still pay a bit of attention.

"Like, you're with the same people 24/7. You all start to pick up each other's jokes, and talk. And you make cool stories out of average memories. I got all of my friends from school."

Sometimes, I wonder how Tony got there. Did his parents send him there for being a troublemaker? If so, he turned out to be a cool kid after the discipline. Or, did he come from a big military family? Either way, is it my place to ask? Probably not, so I'll keep my questions to myself.

"I was there for most of my life. I was in public school till third grade and I got dropped in boarding school." I see him smile to himself while picking away at a wood scrap.

"I thought it would be horrible," Tony admits. "I guess it was, in the beginning at least, but I got used to it."

I brush some ash off my skirt before asking, "Big wake up call?" 

The boy snorts in laughter. "Yeah."

Andy mentioned something about how Jack gave him a hard time when he first joined, but that it was his way of, 'recruiting,' or whatever that meant. But I tuned out for most of that bit.

"Did you like public high school?" Tony throws the question at me. This catches me off guard.

"Uh, I mean- there's pros and cons to everything." 

Tony hums in more thought, intrigued by the idea of my high school experience.

"Did you have lots of friends? Were people nice?"

The questioning flusters me, but I do process it quick enough. I figure I'll hear a lot more from him after this, so I turn my frame more to face it.

"Well, there's nice people everywhere you go. And there's mean people, too, but that's life, I guess." Heather Chandler comes to mind, and a mug of drain cleaner. Then Heather Duke, who sadly suffered bulimia. Ram Sweeney and Kurt Kelly.

"I had friends. Too many, honestly. I was way happier when I didn't."

He flings his chunk of wood into the fire and looks at me all perplexed. Andy drops in his two cents.

"Why weren't you happy?"

"Because popularity doesn't equal happiness." How do I put this in a way that they'd understand?

"It doesn't matter if you have fifty friends that are all jerks, because that would make you sad. Having three close friends that are amazing people just feel way better, and you'd be surprised by how many better memories you could gain from a tiny group."

They seem to take the concept with ease, and understand what I mean. It's like you can see it click in their brain.

"Overall -- the key is quality over quantity." Mother always insisted that... Now I could only wish I'd taken her advice.

"Sooo..." Tony trails off. "You're saying I shouldn't be friends with Luke because he calls me a dickhead?"

I blink a few times in surprise, but I laugh softly. "Yes, Tony. If you don't like how it makes you feel."

He nods, and changes the subject. 

"Are high school parties a real thing?" His face lights up at the new interest that had taken his mind on.

"I don't mean pool parties. I mean, like, the ones in the movies where the house gets TPed, there's loud music and people vomiting in an oven."

I have to laugh. Despite how dramatic Hollywood gassed certain scenes of life up, I can't really deny the truth in crazy high school or college parties. As my laughter winds down, I nod to their excitement.

"They're less common, but I've been to one or two of those." My heart was pumps with an odd sense of nostalgia.

His jaw drops in awe like it's the coolest thing he's ever heard. Him and Andy grin at each other over this info.

"Did you ever get drunk?" Andy blurts, scooting closer to us. "Well, no, not drunk, but like- absolutely shit-faced drunk?? As in you're practically-dead drunk?"

I purse my lips, wavering slightly, recalling the time I got alcohol poisoning. This answer would not be me serving a platter of endorsement for such an activity.

"Regretfully so."

"Nice!"

"No, not nice."

And so the questioning continues for some time. Questions about lessons, and how nice my school was, or if I had to wear uniforms. In a way, I did. With the Heathers, we all had our own coordinated colors. Heather Chandler, red with power. Heather Duke, green with envy. And brightly yellow, Heather Macnamara. Then there's me, signature blue. Scraping to stay reserved and calm.

The questions have to come to a stopping point when a certain blonde boy makes his arrogantly loud entrance.

"Hey, Vera." Jack greets with a devil-may-care smile. His face is a mosaic of blood and charcoal. Speaking of Tony's devil, Luke is also here. 

"Hi," I respond flatly. The boys wander over with thick branches in hand.

"Mind if we collect some of your fire?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, and instead dunks the object into the flames. I stare at him blankly, and answer anyways, ridden with sarcasm.

"Yes, help yourself, why don't you?" I go ignored by both hunters. Putting my hands on the ground behind me, I lean back in a sigh, waiting impatiently for them to go.

"So turns out, there really is some thing in that cave." Jack says incredibly naturally. I frown while Tony and Andy jump up in fear.

"What?" Tony stammers. Him and his friend walk closer to the hunters. I roll my eyes at this pathetic attempt to scare some kids.

"You should have seen it," Jack exclaims. The weird thing is that I couldn't hear any mock in his voice. Like- he was actually somewhat convincing. 

"It was scared shitless!"

One thing's for sure, the island must've gotten him better at story telling with a bit of possible brain damage sprinkled in.

"Do you think there was something in there?" Tony asks. "Some kind of wild animal or something?"

Jack hands one blazing stick to Luke, and takes the other one to light it also. 

"I know it," he states for certain. "We heard it growl."

I laugh loudly. It's priceless, truly. Jack stares at me seriously. 

"I'm serious, Veronica. It's no damn joke."

The harshness takes me aback. This boy can't possibly think this shit is real, can he? I shake my head at him. Not buying into some bullshit today. Nope, not me.

"Is it... close?" Andy sounds anxious.

"Just over the big rise behind our camp," Jack nods in the general direction. You've got to be fucking kidding me. 

"Real close," Luke adds. Tony stares at the ground, taking the load of information in. 

"Holy shit..."

I shake my head again, not repressing any laughter. I'm not dumb. I literally heard how he treated Greg when the kid first tried to explain anything. He heard and animal or saw some shadow. Nothing more than that.

"I just thought you'd oughta know." Jack rises up from the ground with his firey branch. He met my amused eyes, and I almost thought about thanking him for that marvellous story outloud.

"Yeah... Yeah..." Tony breathes heavily with worry. The two hunters start walking away. Nope, not so fast.

"Thanks for the fire," Jack calls back without looking at us. I jump up and follow behind.

As we head down the hill -- Eric, Pablo and Percival are coming up to take their shift. I can't say anything before Jack begins speaking to them.

"Here come the reserves!" He hoots at the three. Luke laughs and high fives him. The three boys tried their best to not pay any mind.

"Better keep on your toes tonight, Cadets." Jack warns coldly with no context. Eric's face scrunches up at the words, and he stops in his tracks while everyone else keeps moving.

"What do you mean?" 

The two hunters stop, and Jack looks at them with a lofty expression.

"You'll find out.." He tries walking away again. Eric points at the blazing sticks, stopping them. 

"What are you doing with that?"

Jack glances at the subject before answering. 

"Next time we kill a pig, we're gonna have a barbeque."

With that, they continue legging it down the mountain, leaving the three boys. They all give me questionable looks, but I just jog after Jack.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" They stop short, and turn their heads to examine me. 

"You talking to me?" Jack asks dumbly.

"Yes!" I march over angrily. Entering his range, I shove him in the chest with justified force. He only stumbled a lot harder due to the incline. 

"For God's sake, Jack, what is your problem??"

He gave me a charming smile and muttered lowly, but loud enough for Luke to hear. "Not here, Vera. You're turning me on..." That boy knew I would hate to hear some dumb ass joke like that. I groan loudly, tossing my hands in the air.

"Answer the question!" I stamp my foot into the dirt. Jack nods for Luke to go ahead, then takes a deep breath to look at me. He smiles down pleasantly. 

"What was the question?"

With an incredulous stare, I only repeat myself to fancy him and make him cooperate. 

"I asked what your problem is!"

"There's no problem."

Biting back a frustrated frown, I attempt to put on a calm face and play his game. 

"So, is no problem considered lying and convincing those cadets that there's some imaginary monster on the island?"

"I'm sorry, remind me who you're upset with again?" 

"You, evidently."

A stern look falls over Jack's face that sends me into more confusion. 

"Veronica..." He starts slowly. "I'm really not kidding."

My laughter howls up my throat, growing from the soles of my feet and trickling from my mouth. He truly thinks I'm an idiot! 

"No, stop laughing." Jack puts a hand out. "I didn't believe it either, but you can see for yourself."

My face falls, and the pent of laughter progressively dies with every harsh breath of air I suck in. Suddenly, my iron welded face melts into a stunned sort of perplexity as his words struggle to compute in my sun-muddled brain.

"You... seriously believe this?" I say in a breathy tone, turning antsy as the perpetual silence stretches between us. He stares at me with level-headed confidence that makes him appear all the more insane.

"I do."

"Well, let's be honest here, Jack. Your skull is so thick from being a dumbass that I probably couldn't penetrate it with a bullet, so no surprise there."

He rolls his eyes and mockingly yaps away. My hand slaps into his arm hypercritically.

"Seriously! Do you even hear yourself right now? C'mon, are you sure it wasn't a dying boar in that cave?"

Sunlight devours all clarity of my vision, but I insistently angle myself differently to maintain eye contact.

"Veronica, I'll take you there myself if it means that'll prove it to you."

I scoff and shake my head.

"No. Jack, no." I put my hands up and back away. "No, you're not gonna try to convince me of this," I make a move to sling my blazer over my shoulder.

Jack shrugs evenly. "Have it your way." Crossing my arms in front of my chest haughtilly, I huff out a sigh. I'm too drained to argue with him for something like this.

"What can I say?" He drawls. 

"Our love is God." In a swift motion, he lifted my chin and pressed his soft lips to mine. Lord, I want nothing more than to scrub that paint off his face.

I shot back and sharply turned my head away, unintentionally making his amusement swell. My resentful movements threw fertilizer on his smirk and made it grow. Why is that?

"It's painful to watch you think, Vera," he croons. "I can literally hear the gears in your head failing to turn."

It's as though he can visually see my mental deterioration. 

"C'mon," he takes my elbow. "I wanna show you something at Castle Rock."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"Look what I found washed up on the beach," Jack holds out a sort of fossil-looking object. I glance down at it and then eye the boy, uninterested.

"A shark tooth." He grins slyly, cocking up an eyebrow at me. I hold my gaze so he can see my revulsion.

"What are you gonna do with it?" My phrase delivers softer than I mean for it to when I brush away a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead -- it nagged away at me from the moment I saw him.

"I'm gonna make it into a necklace. Add a few pig teeth, shells, and sharp stones..." says Jack weakly when he takes notice of my action. 

"God, try hand feeding me on your knees next time, why don't you?" Brushing my hand away, he shields his face by intently looking down at the shark tooth. A thick pulp of rejection swells in my chest as I stare at him, mortified. 

Somehow, I manage to keep a casual face. On a normal day, before everything went down, I could spot a sense of care in the boy which he now hopelessly lacked in the time span of over a night.

"That was aggressive, Jack." I rasp, attempting to take on a calmer stance. He glances up at me finally, blinking his blue eyes in the sunlight. They pop all the more vibrantly with the harshly applied war paint.

"A little aggression can't hurt anyone." 

"Okay," I answer. "And what happens when you keep getting angry more easily?" 

He shrugs, not in the usual, boyish way that he would when trying to flirt. It's like he's trying to shake the question from his body before it can latch onto his skin.

"Maybe then you'll stop wasting your time trying to coddle me back into joining your side."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"What's this then?" Jack looks at me straight-on. "I thought you didn't want anything added onto this," he motions between us. "No strings attached."

"I'm not- That's not what-" I shake my head with my jaw half-hanging open, at a loss for words. "That's not what I'm trying to do."

"Then stop being so pushy."

"I'm not trying to push you, I'm trying to see you." My words are emphasized by diction. "I don't even recognize you some days."

"What?" He laughs, though not kindly. It curdles like spoiled milk. 

"You don't recognize me?" His words go sour with his bitter grin. "Good. Thank God, actually! Maybe that means my mission's been accomplished."

"That's not something to be proud of," I snap quicker than intended. "I've seen what happens to people when they try to do what you're doing."

"What do you want from me?" He presses. "Why are you acting so concerned? I thought this was what you wanted in the first place."

"I want you." The words are low, still not lacking a firm deliverance. "I'm not saying that we have to act like we're extremely affectionate towards each other -- I told you it felt wrong, but I don't want this." I motion to him standing with his spear, war paint, and shark tooth.

"You're trying to throw this new persona in my face now and it feels entirely disingenuous, Jack. Or- sorry, should I say Merridew."

He exhales sharply. "What? You want me to change just because you're not used to it? Sorry to tell you, Sawyer, but the world doesn't revolve around you. Do we need to go over that again?" 

"Do we?" I challenge. "Because you're acting like it revolves around you."

"Just because I didn't want to put up with any more bullshit?" His shell hardens, and I feel like my sight of him has grown even more vague.

"See, that's the whole point, Jack!" I explode at the cue that acts like a trigger to set my nerves off. "You don't even see that you're being full of it! You think you're the victim here!" 

"Never the victim, Sawyer," his voice drops. "Make no mistake." 

I scoff, nodding my head. "Yeah, I can see that." My feet step closer to him, on auto-pilot. "You're constantly picking fights with people for no reason. You think being selfish is standing your ground and protecting your peace, but you're just inconveniencing and hurting the people around you. There was no bullshit you had to put up with. You only had to do one thing. One fucking thing!"

"Right," he laughs. It's sharp and humorless. "Of course you'd say that." 

He veers off and makes slow, deliberate paces. "Veronica Sawyer. Always on her moral high ground. Always so correct and righteous." 

I watch him with a clenched jaw as he settles his eyes back on me. "Now she thinks I'm too aggressive. Some wild animal that's gone off the deep-end, huh?"

Fueled by his own words, Jack asks, "Was your boyfriend from back home as aggressive as me, Veronica?"

Who would have thought those words could be so hurtful? To enrage the small fire between us, he continues on by retorting louder. 

"Is me being a bit aggressive too much for you?"

An ugly look of hurt twists on my face as I flinch back with every little lunge Jack advances with, emphasizing every word. 

"Can your boyfriend -- or, I'm sorry, ex boyfriend relate that you despise so much, Veronica?"

"He's dead, Jack." 

Finally, I had said it. My eyes mist with hurt while my jerky movements remain present. It was so easy. Why did I get so repulsed by the idea of those few words when he could say anything he wanted? After the ball was dropped, it's clear that Jack came to an awareness that he overstepped a boundary, almost humiliated for the stupid insults thrown in my face. It was all so childish. Before long, he scrambles to backtrack with sad justifications.

"Okay, well... You- You never told me." He stammers, stitching together his bold ego that's ripping at the seams. 

"How was I supposed to know?"

"That's the fucking point, Jack. You don't have to know!" My words shoot like a spear. "You just don't fucking say those things!"

If it weren't for my look of resentment after being torn into, Jack wouldn't have zipped his lips and swallowed his words. Taking a deep breath, I muster up the courage to ask him something which was eating away at me for the last few days.

"... Who convinced you life is war?"

In the past, Jason Dean never said outright that he wasn't enough for me -- better to say that he thought he wasn't enough for me. Instead, he expressed it through actions that could "prove" it, having it in his mind that he could change the world for me. Only his tactics weren't so wholesome -- JD's solution was a lie. The boy was convinced that his sick mentality was somehow good, and roped me into this agenda through master manipulation. Anger infected me, and clouded my eyes to what he led me into.

Maybe Jack isn't the same in such a way, but they both thought that life had to be some climbing battle to win. Like it was better to screw than get screwed. Jack thinks that on a less extreme path, but the island made the little ideas hit the fan and whirl into a situation that escalated. Moments desperately crawl by between us as Jack contemplates a response, before alas, coming up with nothing.

"No one," he answers simply, downcast and shameful. Deep down, I know it's a lie. The signs, the red flags all scream louder than before in my face.

"This really has to stop, you know." I flash my eyes knowingly and tie the blazer around my waist. Jack presses his lips together and breaks our eye contact.

"Yeah." He confirms. "Yeah, I know." He hesitates again. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I am getting so angry all the time so easily."

Giving him a look, I walk back up to him promptly and shoo the fallen hair out of his eyes, only this time he doesn't protest. My hands delicately cup either side of his face. Jack flinches slightly at the touch. I still don't retreat after I feel him roll and set his jaw under the skin of my palms. My brows knit and nose scrunches in perplexion as if my vision had gone terribly blurry.

I tilt my head to the side, trying to measure up his twitchy mannerisms. My eyes trace down the streaky paint that I loathe. With a jerky movement of my hands, I force his head to cock to the side. Tilting my own head the opposite way, the razor sharp gaze of his icy eyes penetrates my skull. I purse my lips in thought, pondering the hard front he built up like safety walls.

All at once, I am exhilarated with the sudden overwhelming urge to scrub away the dirt and grime till his skin was red. My thumbs begin circling over the arches of his cheekbones. Notably rough considering how his forehead tenses. All to work the stupid blood off.

"Veronica."

His voice floats to my ears. A string of patience snaps in my chest when the charcoal and paint only smudge under my fingers, being distributed impeccably darker in renewed harshness. My teeth grit like rocks pressing together.

"It's fine. It's fine, I'll get it off!"

My brows furrow in narrow concentration, shooting daggers at my scrambling hands with panic taking the stage. The black and red color rubs off onto my no longer clean hands, and the neat streaks on his face are like dark clouds now, flecked with red flames.

"Veronica. H-"

"Let me do it!"

My face crumples into deeper creases as my attempts to rid the mess on his face go heedless.

"Vera."

"It's fine! It just needs-"

"You're just spreading it around..."

His fingers wrap around my wrists, easing my hands away from his dirty face. I soften my tight expression, but my lips are stiff as ever.

"You got all over your hands," Jack chuckles. A lift of his cheek, and I give in after releasing an exasperated sigh that was pent up in my locked lungs for far too long. I slide my palms down the base of his neck, over his clavicles, to his broad shoulders that are kissed by blackened ash. Taking a breath, I fumble with my rings, keeping my hands rested against his chest. The rise and fall of his breaths puts everything at ease.

My eyes are pulled to thin scabs that slice down his sternum. Must've been a result of hunting. I trace the small scars, and bite my lip. Looking up at him, I gently drop my fist against him in exhaustion. The pulpy intimacy in the air thickens as we both scrape for answers to unknown questions. Jack finally speaks up.

"We were supposed to finish a conversation, if you can't remember."

At the words, I already assume a hesitant stance. 

"Oh," I pause. "Right."

Bewitched by Jack's facial expressions, I find my chin lifting ever so slightly. Jack's face softens visibly, and he steps back. Confused, my head tilts to the side in question.

"We can't keep making out after every little fight," he says with a shrug. My face heats up into a blush and I nod forcefully. The blonde swallows thickly before continuing.

"It feels wrong to do that to you."

My body goes rigid, but I can only find the fluidity to nod some more. Thoughts creep up into my mind that rub the wrong way.

"Are you only saying this because I told you about my dead ex?" I ask sharply. Jack's stance changes defensively.

"I just wish you could've told me sooner." A heavy silence hangs in the air around us. To my misfortune, the sun is brighter than ever to expose every little blush that tingles across my cheeks. We sit down on some rocks, and I fold my knees to my chest to make myself as invisible as possible when other hunters breezed by.

Briskly, Jack takes my hand in his, sending the butterflies to scurry wildly in my stomach. Biting my lip in perplexion, I watch him start messing with my rings like he did on the beach so long ago. His eyes travel to the sterling bullet ring. I watch as he wiggles it off my finger.

"What was the guy's name?" He asks barely above a whisper, inspecting the piece of jewelry closely. Forcing myself to divert focus, I bite my cheeks and contemplate my choices.

Finally, I answer. 

"Jason Dean." The blonde breathes a thin laugh to himself, and I don't know if I should take it as an offensive thing or not.

"Dean, huh?" Jack chuckles. "That's my father's name."

"Very cool," I say dismissively with a nod of the head. 

"And what was it about this Jason Dean that made him so worthy of dating Ms. Veronica Sawyer?"

That made it obvious that Jack's trying to lighten the mood for me, so it'd be less awkward. Key word: trying.

Shrugging sheepishly, I allow Jack to look at the rest of my rings. 

"Jason Dean was a Baudelaire quoting badass in Sherwood, Ohio who drank 7/11 slushies." I chuckle somberly at the description. 

"It doesn't get much better than that."

The blonde bobs his eyebrows and studies my face. 

"Anything else?"

"He wore a trench coat, never a leather jacket," I remark. JD was that cliché mysterious boy of every desperate teenage girl's dream, but it's not so dreamy when he's truly a bad person.

"What, did he ride a motorcycle, too?" He nudges me in my arm, but I confirm that Jason Dean did in fact ride a motorbike.

"His dad was a nut job, though," I quickly add, frowning as I thought of Bud Dean. 

"The guy was a deconstruction worker, and he chose to make that his livelihood."

"Wait, sorry-" Jack interjects. "Deconstruction?" 

I nod. 

"Mhm. He was the owner of a company called Big Bud Dean's Demolition. They mainly tore down old buildings to make room for new construction in its place." 

JD only learned his works from the best. And sometimes, I wish it was his dad that died, rather than his mom. 

"They used bombs to implode the buildings, excavators... The guy was enthralled every time he did it. There would be times that I was with JD at his house, and Bud would just replay his tapes of the buildings that he blew up." I shake my head, aimlessly staring at the memory playing behind my eyes. 

"It's like it... it turned him on?? I don't know- It just..." I pinch the bridge of my nose as though I were bunching my bearings together. "It wasn't right. He just was never right." 

Jack hasn't moved. He's just waiting. He's listening and he's waiting. I feel my heart palpitate at the thought of JD and his parents. 

"JD's mom had also commit suicide. When he was a kid- I mean." 

I feel Jack's eyes drilling the side of my face, sitting in silence. I take a breath before continuing. 

"She knowingly walked into a building three minutes before his company imploded it." Sick way to do it, if you ask me. It's no wonder JD's dad went off the rocker after that. 

"That's real?" Jack sounds semi-appalled, but I can't see his true expression through all the war paint. 

"She walked into a building as it was exploding?" 

"Imploding," I correct. "JD was just a child, sitting in the car. She waved him goodbye from a building window as she did so." 

I sourly push my tongue against my closed lips as I sit in thought. 

"That's..." Jack can't seem to find the words, and I don't expect him to. "I don't even know what to say about that." 

"After his son died, Bud Dean finally sold the demolition company. Ended up finding other construction jobs at airports, and such." 

"If you don't mind me asking..." Jack starts slowly. I already started dreading what I predicted he would ask. 

"How did he die?"

Freezing, I open my mouth, and no words come out. Jack takes the cue and tries to retract the question. 

"You don't have to tell me."

In time, my surprise melts away and I force a smile. A delicate kiss brushed the corner of his mouth like a feather grazing a cheek, all while I raked my fingers through his soft, blonde hair. He freezes for a moment, as if mentally debating his next motive. I wish he could see how beautiful he looks right now. 

It's at this moment that I suddenly understand; Jack is the sun pretending to be the moon.

Out of nowhere, Jack cups the base of my head and pulls me in for a heated kiss. 

Maybe I'm brainless. Maybe I'm wise. Whichever it is- I fall for the spell.

Finding myself returning it, I inch closer to him and splay a hand on his chest. His toned arm coils under my right thigh, and he gathers me closer to what is a comfortable straddle. Jack's rough demeanor clashing with my gentle fluidity was like a rain drop standing up against an ocean. His harsh kisses always rouse a consequential urge in my veins that I eagerly drink up like alcohol. 

Cupping the base of his neck to lock him in place, I sigh against his mouth out of pure bliss which surely serves as a motivating rise. He tangles rebellious hands into my dark, wind-played hair to keep me in an inescapable hold. The sensation of our lips melting together teeters on that line of desperation and commitment. I resist a shiver when his fingers trail down the indentation of my spine, and I swoon a little bit more for the blonde. The knot in my stomach tightens, yet to be loosened.

The cloud of heat that was assembling between us poofs away with a gust of wind. A sound of someone whistling a tune pierces the humid air as they breezily approach closer to make themselves known. Ugh. I pull myself off Jack and sit right by him. My heart drops when Roger appears around the corner, smirking.

He has a way of carrying himself. So certain. So calculated. 

Luke appears around the corner next, amusement claiming his mouth while it only teases Roger's.

"Hey, Loverboy," Luke addresses his friend before leaning on a corner of rock. I squirm out of embarrassment, and stare at him breathlessly while an unsettling sensation harasses my nerves. Catching his attention, Roger eyes me with interest.

"I needed to steal Jack from you, if you wouldn't mind."

The words slide off Luke's tongue like dribbling water. My heart hammers inside my chest, surprising me that he can't hear it. Jack is more relaxed and leans back a bit more than me. He's also heaving for a breath of air as they had caught us by surprise. I give the blonde a pleading look, but he never catches on.

"Yeah, I'm coming," groans Jack. A sigh exits my mouth out of exhaustion. There it is; a glint in Roger's gaze as his dark eyes scan down my whole frame. A chill claims the surface of my skin.

"You're not so uptight with Jack, huh?" Luke crosses his arms smugly, Roger still saying nothing. I think about the day he caught me alone, against the tree. Jack just stands up rolls his eyes, preparing to witness another bicker session between Luke and I -- at least that's how he sees these little collisions.

"Why would I have to be uptight with him?" I ask, tugging the hem of my skirt down to hide my thighs. When Jack takes my hand to help me up, more interest sparks in Roger's eyes.

"You'd be surprised, darling." Luke pats Jack on the shoulder. Jack pays little mind to the touch, and my looks of desperation go unnoticed.

"I gotta get back to my camp," I whisper and bolt past them. A hand wraps around my wrist, steering me to a halt -- It's Jack. Flashing my eyes in question, he just gazes at me seriously as if he's trying to put an unknown message across, and then finally relinquishes his hold on me.

I don't leave without one more glance at Roger. All cockiness vanished, and he sent me a look sharp enough to kill, and frightened me like he was capable of before. Turning on my heel, I nope the fuck out.

So the only thing I can retain from that event is that Jack isn't fully gone, Luke is somehow even more bold, and Roger is- well, still Roger. I'm checking the rings on my hands when a familiar brassy voice makes my head snap up. What the hell?

Tony was here, decked out in a painted face and laughing with some of the hunters, including Sam. I march over aggressively, my face as hard as stone.

The boy notices my scathing stride and his face drops in shock. Triggering a domino effect, the small group of hunters that surrounds him all file their heads in my direction, turning just as bewildered by my presence.

"Tony?" I exclaim loudly, flinging my hands in the air. Now addressed by me, his relaxed posture straightens up anxiously and his hands snap behind his back. He looks like a deer in headlights.

"Hi," he utters with a sheepish cringe. Shooting him a cold look, I cross my arms and vigorously tap my foot. The ball is in his court to explain himself. Nervously, the rest of the hunters scramble away, abandoning their friend to be alone with me. It hadn't taken long for him to give in under pressure.

"Hey-- I can explain! Okay?" Tony laces his fingers together out in front of himself. I loll my head to the side in a daring manner. He gulps and bursts out into a bunch of incoherent word vomit that I can't make sense of, speaking at a mile a minute.

"Slow down!" I snap hastily, putting a hand in the air. 

"What are you-- why the hell are you here??" I exclaim. Does Ralph have to seriously be aware of another traitor now? I'll have to be the one that lays the truth out for him.

"I-" the boy starts but I talk over him. "And why the hell are you painted? Are you leaving Ralph's group, Tony?"

His eyes widen by each of my angry words. 

"Jack's group is having more success!"

That sentence throws me off. I hadn't even noticed Jack who came from the right, smirking in pride by Tony's words and presence. Dropping my jaw, I scoff in disbelief. 

"What do you even mean by that?"

"It means that he's on my side now because the kid knows what's good for him." Jack calmly interjects. He gives Tony a small pat of the arm, subtly gesturing for him to leave. Turning to me, Jack offers an apologetic shrug. I watch him mouth the word, sorry, but I shake my head and willingly sprint down out of the camp.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Walking over to the beach, the first people I see back at camp are Eric, Pablo, and Percival -- The older two are spilling the story to some of their friends about a beast. 

"You guys are supposed to be on fire watch!" I point an accusing finger. They stare at me wordlessly. Giving up, I explode into a groan and throw my hands up.

I can see the chief and the rest of the tribe trying to tediously pick foliage off the beach. 

"Ralph, I'm gonna reveal something to you that's gonna piss you off," I warn coldly as I leg it over. Sighing, he faces me, preparing for the worst.

"Alright," he says. "Hit me." Allowing me to explain, I decide to start off with the current situation. Ralph looks drained, and I have to give him two loads of bad news.

"Tony switched over to Jack's tribe." Hearing the words leave my mouth, the brunette mumbles a ton of no's under his breath and rubs both hands over his face. 

"Great," he exclaims, clearly agitated.

"Is it because of that damn monster story everyone's talking about?" Asks Ralph. Well, that opens the door for the next topic. 

"Speaking of the monster," I veer us slowly. "Eric and Pablo and whoever else aren't even on watch because of the story."

More worry freezes over his face. Without any word, he turns and starts heading for the mountain. Me and the rest have to speed walk to keep up with his swift pace.

"So you mean no one's on fire watch?" He asks urgently, but with ease. I, on the other hand am breathing hard to get my words out while practically jogging to stay at his side. 

"Pretty much-- yeah."

In the distance, Rapper and Robert are headed our way. They're hunters, so it's odd seeing them and a few more people who were trailing behind. For some reason, they still keep their spears ready, even when not hunting.

"Why can't we have the fire down here?" A child named Sheraton scurries up to walk by Ralph and I. The chief ignores him and keeps briskly walking.

"I don't see why it can't just be by the camp!" He continues with a high pitched voice. Ralph rolls his eyes.

"Because if we want anyone to see the smoke it's gotta be up there!" He explains loud enough. Piggy made his presence known by wheezing loudly behind us all, struggling to keep up.

"No one wants to be up there alone anymore," Sheraton whines. There it goes with those noisy sounds that kids make. It makes me frustrated to no end.

"Listen, Ralph," he huffs. "There's something loose on this island." 

Rolling my eyes, I speak up with a confident grin.

"And what might that be?" The words came out more snarky than intended. 

"A monster!" Eric chirps up. Ralph and I groan again in unison. 

"There's no monster!" 

Sheraton tries flashing a smart ass look. 

"There's something!"

Without realizing it, the hunters are in front of us now, standing like statues with spears at the ready. 

"So what do you want?" Ralph switches his focus to the boys before us. Robert is the one to answer after giving me a quick wave. I wave back awkwardly.

"So basically, Jack wants the other survival knife." Yeah, right. Like he thinks he can just take it.

"It's not his!" Piggy points accusingly. I watch him shove his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "It belongs to our camp!"

"I know," says Rapper, somewhat reluctant. "But he wants it, and he asked us to come get it. We're just here to ask." 

With that, I step forward. "Tell Jack he can suck it because he isn't getting the knife."

"I dunno, man," Robert shrugs apologetically. "Tony just wants his shoes n' socks, and all his stuff."

I know they're not wanting or looking for a messy confrontation here. I turn to Ralph so he can answer.

"Take Tony's stuff, but you can't have the survival knife." This time, he's surprisingly more calm, which frustrates the antsy hunters. Why Tony didn't just come down to get his shit - I have no idea.

"He's a defector!" Piggy screeches. "Just another damned defector!" Honestly, for words that sound so careless, the kid still sounds hurt.

"It's cuz of the moss-ter," says a kid with a lisp. Glancing at him so he could have a bit of regard, I turn back to the rest.

"I already told you, there's no monster!" Ralph groans. His professionalism has been slowly unwinding with each passing obstacle of inconvenience. 

"Tony knows there'a no monster! Tony just wants to be a hunter and had these two chicken-shits come down and get his stuff instead of getting it for himself."

"What if there is some kind of big animal?" Sheraton starts blabbering away again.

"Yeah!" Eric exclaims. The hunters don't say anything, but Robert retrieves Tony's things. When he returns, Rapper motions for them to head back. Robert nods goodbye as he turns on his heel. I nod back, knowing they've just neutrally floated to Jack's side without any negative feelings for us. 

Ralph looks disappointed as both Sheraton and the lisp-kid walk away with the hunters. Shaking my head, I exhale through my nose and stare at the sand.

"Oh, great!" Piggy cries sarcastically. "Two more traitors!" The two boys look back after the words are said.

"Sorry, Ralph," Sheraton calls back half-heartedly. 

"Good riddance," proclaims Piggy as he spits on the ground. Jack's new recruits just trot away. Standing in silence, we wait for Ralph to say something. Instead, he pulls his hand away and sits under a tree to recollect himself. I feel sorry for him, and for us. This all feels like a new level of shitty.

Walking over to him, I sit down as well and rest my head to his shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Ralph," I whisper. The feeling of his chuckle stirs me a bit.

"Again, Veronica," he lifts his head to look at me. "You don't have to apologize for things that aren't your fault."

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"I don't believe in the monster," states Simon as he braids my hair. We ventured off to our spot in the forest for some solitude after the hectic day.

"Of course, neither do I," I answer him aimlessly while rubbing the rose quartz. The ridges and bumps tickle the pad of my thumb. Simon audibly sighs behind me, and restarts the braid all over again, indicating he must have messed up at some point.

"Does Jack think the monster is real?" He asks curiously. Annoyance bubbles in my gut. Not because of Simon, but because of how Jack would treat this situation.

"Honestly... I don't know." I admit wearily. Clicking my tongue, I twirl the quartz between my fingers a few times. "If he does, then I'm convinced he's lost it."

The slight tugging of the boy twisting strands of hair into a braid tickles my scalp with how careful he was. Suddenly I had an urge to look at my reflection. Throughout the time on the island, it was something I refused to do in fright of what a number this island could have done on me.

With shaky hands, I pull out the travel sized hair brush that folds into a hockey puck shape, with one having a mirror that's hard to get a view of a whole face. Holding the mirror up, I gaze at a girl staring back at me. My hair took on it's natural waviness, but the artificial curl was obviously gone, as expected. A dream come true being that my skin is clear of any acne, unlike how it was back home. There's more of a natural glow to my skin you could say that makeup wouldn't produce. The right corner of my mouth tugged up a bit at the reflection, but not fully.

Now I sport a spray of freckles that sprinkled across my cheeks due to the exposure to sunlight. It's not all great when you have a puncture wound on your cheekbone that came from "natural causes." The natural causes of how a body reacts to a fist dressed in iron rings when it collides with your face. A pink scar planted itself under my chin from the hunt I went on with Jack a few months ago. I tripped and ate dirt. Crazy that we've been here for this long already.

Overall, I wasn't ugly like I feared I would be. That sounds stupid, and it is. It had just been lingering in the back of my mind, on the back burner as I had prioritized everything else. All of my makeup was worn away, but I didn't expect to see any. I sort of like the way I look, minus the scars.

"Veronica?" Simon spoke up softly. Snapping the mirror shut and dropping it back into my pocket, I turn my head slightly and hum in response.

"I was thinking-- maybe there is a monster. Maybe... Maybe it's only us."

My face flinches into a frown by the boy's deep words. Ignoring that fact that he was doing my hair, I turn completely around to face him. For some reason, he looked a bit embarrassed.

"Maybe, Simon." I force a small smile of reassurance. "I've seen my fair share of monsters disguised as humans."

He only stares at me before saying, "I want to find the monster that they're talking about to see what it really is." Chuckling, I pat his hand a few times.

"Maybe we could leave that be for a while." Anxiousness washes over me for no particular reason. It isn't something that I can just describe like -- suddenly being submerged into freezing cold water.

Brushing away the feeling, we both look up at the sky that seeped like tea into bright orangey colors. Mom and Dad would sometimes watch sunsets while drinking tea, but I regretfully hardly ever joined them. It's the little things. Moments like that makes life feel complete, but it only matters if you take advantage of it rather than letting it pass you by. Holding up the rose quartz, I shut an eye and veer the object to the right, watching it eclipse over the remaining bit of sun.

Night time would fall soon, and the landscape falls into silhouettes. Jack was probably going to have a restless night that would likely maintain of hunting or staring at the stars, contemplating his choices. Hell, I would be doing the second thing also.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Are we going to prom or to hell?