𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤

"Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win."

- Stephen King

♕︎♕︎♕︎

"We're gonna get your glasses back," Ralph states to Piggy, both of them gripping my hands. At first, Piggy was the one that held my injured hand, but after plently of marvellous instances where he'd squeeze too hard and make me drop swears like commas, Ralph takes my left side instead, putting Piggy on my right. Ralph is gentler, more so holding my fingers carefully.

We started walking as soon as we planned we would, just after Piggy's proclamation. Glancing over, I actually see that his hand which he holds the conch with trembles terribly. I can only pray that this shit goes through correctly. Jack isn't who he used to be, and I'm sick of it.

"What if we don't get them back?" Piggy whines, slacking in his steps. He complained less when we got him talking about different things. Just earlier we were in the topic about how sweet tea isn't sweet enough at restraunts. That got him into a whole rant, so I told him that the Russians were behind it.

"We'll get them back." I groan, now sick of having to repeat the same sentence over and over again. I feel Ralph let go of my hand as we approach an incline. He starts using a spear as a walking stick to push himself up the bigger steps. Castle Rock stands tall, planted in roots to this God forsaken island. The huge grey arch watches us from a distance.

Too distracted by the scene, I get yanked back at a sudden- like dropping a balloon tied to a weight. I shriek as Piggy trips on a stone going uphill, nearly bringing me down with him. Nevertheless, Piggy eats shit, slamming his chin down with a hard thud. Sighing in apprehension, I mutter a small, "come on, up you go," and hoist him up by the arm. Ralph looks at us sidelong.

"I can't seeeee!" Piggy wails melodramatically. I wince in second-hand embarrassment as Ralph represses a smile, going to brush him off.

"I know, I know," I dismiss, giving him a few rough pats on the back.

He rubs his uncut chin, waiting for me to lead him by the elbow once more. "Well, the quicker we get moving, the sooner you'll be able to see."

In his reluctance, he restarts his hike. I'm less worried about seeing Jack or Roger -- I'm scared to see Sam. Please, God forbid that his shock already wore off while having to be stuck there of all places. My lips purse sourly at the thought of Roger, and what mental tirade he may be giving Sam.

"Go slower," Ralph instructs sternly. I hadn't even realized how close to Castle Rock we've gotten. Hiking up the rocky stoop, I flinch back to see none other than Sam; carving organs out of a pig carcass, likely preparing it for cooking. He goes rigid noticing us, hiding his bloody hands behind his back.

"Sam," I exclaim in surprise. His eyes are puffy and red, but war paint has been harshly applied over the messed up layer. For being a twelve year old, he looks like he's seen hell. Last night's events scraped him raw of everything to a numb silence. He's trembling, and his slow movements are blunt, cut short.

"What are you doing here?" He shakily asks. It dawns on me that the shock must have subsided.

"Getting Piggy's glasses back," I say in almost a whisper, taking in his appearance. The boy looks like he's been weeping.

In the awkwardness, I lower down to his level, sitting across the dead pig. Sam only stares at me in bewilderment as I lean forward to swipe some stray tears from his cheek. Rising back up, I open my mouth to say something until another voice cuts me off.

"New arrivals?" Andy yells down at us from his rocky lookout. Ralph jumps up at this opportunity, angrily striding ahead of me.

"Cut the bullshit, you know why we're here!" He plants the end of his spear into the ground to set a statement. Roger glares down at us with Luke sneering at his side. They have the high ground.

"Ah, here they are," Luke whoops and claps his hands. "I've already booked my front row seat for this highly anticipated conversation."

I snarl up at the two coy boys while Ralph simply ignores.

"We've got the conch and we're calling an assembly. Where's Jack?"

At the sound of his name, the blonde quickly enters the scene. "What the fuck do you want now?" He snaps back, clutching a spear. I shoot a glare in his direction, ignoring the ache in my chest.

"The plot thickens!" Luke smartly remarks from above our heads. Snickers from the rest of the boys danced up into the air. He eggs that thin string of patience in my chest.

It's three of us against- however many boys they all have. Regardless, I'm impressed with how assertive Ralph can remain, facing off a savage tribe. Meanwhile, Piggy and I veer off towards the wall of rock.

"Come down. We're having a meeting. It's long overdue, and you know what it's about."

"Little too late for family therapy," jeers Luke. 

"Fuck off, Ralph," barks Jack. "These aren't your people anymore. My end means my terms. Keep to your own end!"

Oh, the irony.

"Rich hearing that from you!" I clap my hands, cutting into the exchange.

"You're the one who won't keep to your own end," Ralph retorts. "You tore up our camp and stole Piggy's glasses. You've got to give them back!"

Jack starts making his way down to us as he responds. "Got to? Who says?" He challenges, smirking back at his followers who cheer him on.

"I do!" Ralph takes a few steps forward onto the huge flat rock. "Piggy can't see. If you wanted fire, all you had to do was ask. We would have given you it!"

"I don't have to ask!" Jack retaliates, running up to the brunette with his spear at ready. Catching his combative stance in the nick of time, Ralph deflects the jab with his own spear, knocking Jack's own out of his hands. Gracelessly in the process, Ralph drops his own weapon. Groaning, I slap an annoyed hand to my forehead.

I shouldn't watch this crap, that's not who I am, but damn. Both unarmed, Ralph pounces Jack, knocking each other to the sandy ground. I jump back to stay out of the 'danger zone.'

As the vicious fight commends, Jack has a rally of boys rooting him on in their cut-throat ways.

"Get 'em, Jack!"

"Kill him!"

They throw fists at each other blindly like typical high school boys, but over a different context that raises the stakes. People have died already. Jack grabs Ralph's head, bringing it down to meet his knee with a concerning sound. I wince at the blows.

"Come on, Jack!" Roger yells down, waving his own spear widely. It surprises me that he hasn't already just dropped the weapon down in aid for his chief. My back presses against the stone as they start rolling over each other, cutting it close to my feet. Piggy watches them in a sort of daze, taken aback just as much as I was.

Ralph sends a fist thundering across Jack's cheek, splitting the skin. I almost want to tell them that it's enough, and to just call it even already, but a certain sound interrupts that thought -- the conch blaring its sound through the air. This stops the boys at an instant, looking over to Piggy, who now stands tall.

"I've got the conch! Let me speak!"

He looks frightened with all the attention now lit onto him. My fists tighten up at the insults being thrown around.

"Shut up, tits!"

"Fuck outta here!"

"No one cares, lardass!" 

"Get back to your own end!" 

"Fuck off!"

"We don't care!"

"Trip on a knife, fatass!"

"Get outta here, Piggy!" Andy waves a hand as if to blow him off while Greg buzzes his lips in doubt. They're all roaring with derogatory language and chorusing in howls of laughter. Only Robert and Rapper seem to hold back from the bandwagon, remaining silent. 

Rolling his eyes, Jack swiftly jumps up and roughly punches Piggy's shoulder as he goes to join his tribe.

"Please!" Piggy begs. "This is serious!"

I don't know if broken pleads will be enough.

"Leave, dumbass!" That sounds like Luke.

"Maaaaan, c'mon!" Patterson heckles like it's some comedy show. I look over at them, not even attempting a scowl or glare. Piggy watches the group, but still swallows his feelings and persists past the degrading remarks.

"All I wanna say is; if we don't get rescued, we may have to live here a long time!" His desperate emphasis fails to pierce the dismissive remarks. I sadly frown up at Piggy, contemplating the horrors of being stuck here for many more months, and how easily things will be sent further off the rail.

"If we are stuck here until we get old," he continues progressively. "Then we can't go on acting like kids!" 

I nod to myself, growing prouder of him. It only now hits me that the boys fell silent.

"We gotta be sensible and make things work!"

In my line of vision, I can see Sam's face fall deeper and deeper, swimming in his wondering thoughts.

"What sounds better? To have rules and agree, or to hunt and kill?"

"Hunt and kill!" Roger chants, only this time doesn't gain any whoops of support.

"Which is it better to be? Staying civilized like Ralph, or to run around like a pack of painted savages as you all are?"

Ralph looks somewhat distraught. If only I could look at myself, too. Piggy licks his lips in exasperation.

"We can clear the slate! We can clear it and start over -- All of us!"

One moment, the boy is preaching his knowledge, making my pride for him swell. I should have known. Damn it, my guards should have been up. The fragment of triumph for the once timid friend all comes shattering down in the same amount of time as it would take to flip a page in a book. Yet another person will be ripped away from my narrative. I heard it before I even saw it -- the boulder plummeting down several meters in the air above him.

One more disaster I can add to my generous supply.

A word forms on my lips, but I blink and the heavy mass of stone glances a blow at my friend.

As the boulder makes uninvited contact with Piggy's face and chest, the conch explodes into a thousand white fragments on such spontaneous impact - the peices clanking against the rocky floor. Piggy catapults backwards off the cliff with the worst sickening crack as his skull and ribs crunch under the pressure. Then comes the squelching of blood shooting through the seams of his skin as the chubby boy's face caves inwards. The word on my lips; still formed, yet I wasn't granted even a portion of a second to emit a sound.

Blood sprays as a mist onto Ralph's face, who is only standing a few steps back and barely missing death. I only blinked when it happened before I could process the horrific ordeal.

As soon as the boy's limp body had been tossed over like a rag doll, he was launched a total 40 feet over the edge to a fate of jagged rocks. A scream rips up my throat involuntarily before I can stop myself. Hell, I hadn't even realized I'd made a peep at first. In a flash, my body jerks forward and I pause at the edge of the cliff as my friend falls.

Smacking onto a slab of pink rocks back-first, the back of Piggy's head crushes down, and red stuff oozes out to taint the frothy water. His limbs are all twisted up in unnatural ways, and his spine takes on a weird curve.

"God fucking damn it," I mutter breathlessly... Piggy's jaw is gone. Just torn off - leaving a gaping cavity in his face where bone and flesh used to be. The feeling of bile rising up my throat plagues my already disgusted senses.

White sea foam splashes over him, turning pink, then red. Once again, I blink wordlessly and Piggy's broken frame slinks off the rocks. I watch the ocean suck Piggy into its depths, now ceasing to exist. In its smugness, the sea cackles and sighs as it wipes away all proof of my friend's existence.

All that's left is silence. Perfect, irrevocable silence. This is the kind that can't be penetrated. The birds and winds hush, and the scornful audio of nothingness screams in my ears like a wild banshee. 

Trembling uncontrollably, I crane my neck back to glance at the place where the boulder tumbled down from. The sight bubbled up a rage that I hadn't felt in years, and the air pressure increases around me.

Roger stands next to a spear at the top of Castle Rock -- the spear sticks out of the ground, and had been used as a lever to heave Piggy's fate over. Gulping hard, I let out a shudder and tears brim my eyes. Did that just happen? All at once, emotions overwhelm me, making the atmosphere cave in from all directions. I scream what I think was, "No!" before my knees buckle beneath me.

Ralph's chest is heaving up and down, and he hesitantly smeared the blood down his cheek before taking a look at his stained fingertips. Clutching a fist to my gut, a whirlpool flashes in my vat of stomach acid and I wanna hurl, so I slap a hand over my mouth to stop myself. A blanket of silence splayed over the hunters, and they sport a twisted look of shock on their faces. Ralph touches my arm as he peers down into the water below, gasping a few times in the matter of a minute.

A sinister air lingers around Ralph as he sends a look of death to the painted savages.

"You're not gonna get away with this..." He warns. The anger that made itself known made even me shift uncomfortably. Jack swallows hard, recovering from the spontaneous murder that just happened. He looks distraught... as if for once, he's at a loss for words.

"O-Oh yeah?" Jack stammers out, desperately trying to regain his power. Tears stream down my cheeks endlessly as I scan for a glimmer of humanity in Jack Merridew.

"And what are you gonna do about it? Huh? What're you gonna do about it??"

The newer chief can't even look me in the eye, not a single look of regard to confirm that he isn't all gone. In fact, he's avoiding any eye contact at all costs.

"You're out of it, man," he states, forcing a strained chuckle. "Y'all are on your own." 

Picking up a stone, he chucks it at Ralph, still not giving me any attention. The rest of the group catches on as they shakily recover from the scene, pelting stones at Ralph. Too distracted by the hunters, I barely miss the rock that goes whizzing past my head. Snapping my gaze to the upper left part of Castle Rock, I see Roger staring down at me as the rest of the boys continue to target Ralph.

"Ralph, go!"

I try veering to the right to dodge the flying rocks he attacked me with, keeping eyes on him. With the rest of the hunters now showering Ralph and I with rocks, I cover my head with my hands for protection and duck away from the new wave of madness. Ralph trots off in the opposite direction since most of the attack had been aimed at him. I only stop moving when I bump into another body.

It startles me -- I jump back and shriek nonsense, shielding my face. Something in the back of my mind tells me it's Roger, who has already killed two of us on his own, and helped to kill another. My mind convinces me that he'll lift up a stone and send it thundering across my forehead. Loudly mumbling my nonsense, the tears return as I anticipate some sort of pain to lash out.

The person pulls my wrists away from my face, and takes me closer to their frame in the process. My thrashing stops and I open my eyes, and everything momentarily feels okay. A pair of blue eyes stare at me sadly.

The gaze makes a lump of dread plummet to the bottom of my gut. It's then that a shaky groan of grief manages to escape my lips when a punch of mental pain and exhaustion strikes me. 

"Oh, Jack..." I sob. He wordlessly lets my wrists go and I throw my arms around him, absorbing the comfort. The boy embraces me back, letting me cry. However, the embrace doesn't last long -- I shove him away and pound my fists into his chest. The boy takes the feeble hits, waiting for the anger to subside. Unleashing all of the worries, stress and trauma onto him feels like an eternity of hatred leaking into something more real. More physical.

"You god damn bitch-- you mother fucker, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! You're sick! All of you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."

Crumbling to my knees, I feel my shoulders twitch, and I give into defeat. Jack stands there above me, puzzled about the next course of action. With a hand motion, he signals the rest of the boys to leave before kneeling in front of me.

"Veronica. Vera, hey-" A hand finds its way to my shoulder. With a grunt, I swat him away and collapse back, scrambling to create some distance. 

"No! You're all murderers, all of you!"

A voice scratches the back of my skull. Then what does that make you? The blonde staggers and lowers down to my level, trying to appear as less of a threat.

"God, why did it have to be Piggy? For the love of God, why him?" I rock back and forth. Jack inches closer, but doesn't make a move to touch me.

"Vera, I didn't know." His voice wavers like he himself is trying to hold everything together. 

"I'm so sorry." His hand touches my face. Flinching at the contact, I kick my leg out with a grunt and scramble back to create more distance.

Something catches my attention in the form of a seering ache; my burned palm. All of my fighting and scrambling around had tattered the bandage and irritated my injury even further.

I lift it closer to my face, but Jack gently takes my hand and holds it to his chest.

"You have to believe me when I say that I didn't expect it, I swear on my life." He kisses the back of my knuckles warmly before talking again.

"I'm so sorry about Simon, but I had no part in what happened to Eric and Piggy." He promises, almost genuine. "Please, Vera."

The fury slowly melts away in my horrid despair. I want it to be over. I'm so done.

"I'm so tired, Jack." I whisper, pressing my forehead to his. "I can't do this anymore." The feeling of him shifting to move my head to his shoulder makes my heart lurch. I wait for an answer, but it soon became clear that he wouldn't be offering one. We just stayed like that for a bit, and I take advantage of this solitude.

Jack Merridew can do anything to stop this. It's all in his power, yet he chooses to do nothing despite knowing how it's affected me, Ralph, and Piggy. Oh, Piggy...

I feel Jack put his arms around my back, and something within me snaps. 

"No, no," I push him back by the chest, fervently shaking my head. "I can't do this. You will not do this to me again."

The tears profusely slide down my cheeks. Jack says nothing and proceeds to take my wrists, pulling me closer. 

"No," I sob miserably. My face crumbles further as I resist him. "Don't do this to me anymore." 

Jack manages to take me closer to his frame as he hushes me, strapping his arms around my back. I continue to shake my head, rattling my decaying brain around.

"You can't keep doing this to me. You fucking ruined me." My barely standing composure finally collapses, and so the sobs fully burst free. Bumping out through the air in short, ragged blasts, my weeps are suddenly muffled as Jack hugs me close to him. 

I fucking hate you. The words internally echo in my head, drowned out by the overflowing cries rushing up my throat. He says nothing, and just sits in quiet disposition, waiting out the storm. 

"What are you gonna do with Roger?" I break the silence with that uncomfortable question. Something in me says that the sullen-faced boy is nearby, waiting for his moment to pick me off next before receding back into the darkness. Jack still doesn't answer, but I didn't need him to.

"You have the power to remove any negativity from your life, Jack," I mumble into his neck. "Anything at all." I'm referring to Roger. The boy goes rigid. 

"You're right," he answers. I furrow my eyebrows, but I don't lift my head and allow him to continue.

"Veronica... You need to stay here." As if he already anticipated that i'd try to lean back for eye contact, he wraps his arms around me tighter.

"I can't get you caught up in, uh, me removing my negativity." The hesitation in his voice sends me spiraling into more questions. 

"Are you gonna..." My voice trails off as the dots connect in my head into a new horrifying realization. Ralph.

"I'm going," I announce, scrubbing the tears off my face. Jack jumps up after me. 

"No." And he harshly clutches my wrist. The random burst of anger frightens me.

"No." He corrects himself to be softer.

"Stay here, there's no group for you to go back to anyway." The rhythm of my heart pounds in my ears like feet stomping on carpet. Yanking myself free, the friction of his hand on my skin burns momentarily- like a small shock that takes me by surprise.

We stare at each other, in love and in hatred, separated by glares that could kill.

"You're a disease, Jack." The scathing words blaze steadily from my chest. "Meeting you was a mistake, and I would've never stepped foot on that flight- had I known it would lead me to you."

"I'd like to say quite the opposite." He begins to stride back up to me with a firm face. My head shakes in contradiction. 

"Prove it." The words slam to the ground. "It's this or me, Jack. What's more important?" 

The air ripples in trepidation, and I see Jack freeze. He says nothing, and that's all I need.

"You're all out of your fucking minds." I stumble back as the ground slips beneath my feet. Before leaving, I throw one last dose of rebuttal.

"I wish your mom had been a little stronger." It came out before I could even think, and my heart lurches at his face. The boy looks shocked, but regains the agitated front he always puts up.

"Don't talk about my mom." And that was the only simple response he had to such a sensitive topic, seeming like it didn't bother him for long. Then again, it's Jack, so his reaction shouldn't be unordinary. I on the other hand, had boldly tested the waters and got burned, snapping away from the subject.

"I can talk about whatever I want." 

Unimpressed, he responds, "Anything else?"

"I wish your dad were good." Nice, Veronica. Because bringing up his daddy issues really douses out the fire. Not wanting to see what he had to say, I dart away, flashing one more look to the highest point of Castle Rock to scope out Roger. The boy isn't up there, at least not that I can tell.

I run around the corner, getting out of Jack's sight. My heart beats out of my chest as I clench a fist to my lips, blocking out any of my cries. I can't believe that Sam would stay with them. Why didn't he leave with Ralph? And where is Ralph, by the way? Maybe he's at our camp, but I can't imagine him going there after everything that happened. Well in that case, I need to go-

I pause in my tracks as if the ground had turned into super glue.

Roger.

It blares red in my mind. Over and over like a never ending conveyor belt. A boiling pot of dread rolling in my chest -- the desire for vengeance is greater than my need to flee.

With a clenched jaw I take another look at the hill, not getting a good look from my position.

Roger, Roger, Roger...

The way he killed Eric without second thought. How he wiped Piggy out, cold and clean.

Exhaling through my nose, my feet begin to absentmindedly move. I go around the hill side to the nearest slant and pick my way up the rocks, ignoring the pain.

Roger. He did this. He did all of this.

Jack. He let it happen. He enabled every behavior leading up to the action.

Me. It falls into my lap. All the things I should've done to avoid this. 

The last few grating steps feel almost effortless as I push up the hill where the Earth begins to flatten out. I'm met by the sight of a progressing camp with shelters and stations for small jobs. I don't pay those much mind. Instead, I scan the camp, moving my head slowly, breezing past the surprised goggling eyes that hadn't expected my abrupt entrance.

"Came back for more?" A voice floats over to me. I freeze again, shoulders tense. That voice. I can hear the curve in his words, indicating a lazy half-lifted smile. I turn around stiffly to see Roger with his painted face and relaxed stance.

"Must say I'm surprised to see you turn up here. I thought you'd have run yourself to the other side of the island by now." A hefty rock sits patiently in his left hand. A generous sized one that could be easily capable of shattering bone if thrown at the right velocity. 

A shaky sigh leaves my lips. The mere sight of him seems to inflate a frustration deep within me. Such eloquent passion, he has. Tears spring up in my eyes as I begin to speak.

"Why, Roger? What are you so bent on hurting my side?"

Luke, who is standing a few yards away perks up, watching closely. 

Roger stands there, lingering in silent smugness with me being the only disruption of tranquility. He tosses the large stone in the air, and catching it effortlessly in a taunting rhythm. This tips me further over the edge like a splitting headache, and I feel the tears flood over.

"What's wrong with you? Killing Eric? Now Piggy? Surely Ralph's next, right? For what? So that I'm the last one on my side standing?"

I progress closer and closer till I finally notice a slight gleam at his hip -- a pocket knife tucked in his waistband. My eyes angrily flicker back to his collected face.

"Why are you doing this?" I repeat.

"Some people just make it to the top while the rest are down below."

"No. This has to be personal." I point at him accusingly, ripping my throat raw as it cracks. Luke approaches, lurking a few feet behind Roger.

"Cornering me and breaking me down, scattering broken glass around me, killing Eric in spite of me coming to try and stop another death, killing Piggy after I gave him encouragement for the first time in his life to stand up to you assholes-- this is all personal!"

Anger clouds my vision. Red, hot anger. I should be focused on the people nearby. I should be focused on Roger's aggressive body language. I know I should. Instead, I can only seem to spew a rundown of everything leading up to now.

"I used to question everyone why you were so focused on making my life a living hell, and why you were so focused on bringing everything down on me. I didn't understand why you couldn't have focused on Ralph or someone else. You know all of them like the back of your hand, but me?"

I scoff, shaking my head.

"You've only met me a few months ago, and yet you're doing everything in your power to ruin me. To make me stew on it before you can finally waste me like you wasted those two young boys. I get it now."

It's Luke's turn to scoff now. Roger lets his hand fall to his side, still clutching the rock as Luke progresses near me.

"Oh, so we're supposed to believe you have this all figured out." He speaks with amusement as he stares at my fuming face.

"You- You really think you're some Nancy Drew??" Luke cackles struggling to get his words out. I struggle to maintain a neutral expression, but my face is far beyond my control now.

"You finally got to the bottom of it then, huh??" He mocks me, crossing his arms. The sarcasm coils up in the air like a nasty poison gas.

"I must say-" Roger interjects breezily. "My mind is just-"

He holds the rock up and whistles, pretending to make it fall to his head in slow motion like a grenade before making a faux explosion sound.

"-Blown. My mind's blown." He finishes after a prolonged pause to put on that little performance. My breathing picks up as the red seeps back into my vision.

"You saw Eric and Piggy as dead weight," I say with a hint of realization, squinting. 

"Well," Roger says in a smooth tone, looking at me complacently. "You know what they say about blood in the water." 

His words flip a switch of familiarity and recognition in my brain as we stare at each other for a few passing moments of silence, understanding.

"If that's why you wanna say we knocked them off, then yes." Luke butts in, smirking, though I think the reason for his bluntness is to simply piss me off. His words do nothing to break the laser stare between Roger and I. 

"It's how the world is run, Sawyer. Go cry to your Chief Ralphy-" 

Luke is cut off by Roger's raised hand, the dark-haired boy keeping his eyes rested on me. 

"I think Sawyer and I need a moment alone, Luke." Roger turns his head to look at the less intimidating blonde. "Do you mind?" 

I see a scowl flash across Luke's face momentarily, realizing he's being kicked out of the confrontation. In no room to question Jack's right-hand man, he swiftly turns on his heel after giving me one last long glare. Roger shifts his attention back to me, speaking again.

"What's your point?"

"My point-" I snarl, "is that you wouldn't have killed them if it wouldn't have affected me in some way. Like I said, I used to question why it was me you wanted to slowly break down, bit by bit over anyone else. They were dead weight, because it would be too easy for you to make their lives living hell. Am I not dead weight?" I ask incredulously.

Roger tilts his head again, egging me on, so I continue.

"I am, and you could've killed me a long time ago, but you wanted me to stew on the torment. You've been testing me, learning what would get to me the most. If your only goal was really to state your place, you wouldn't have been stalling. But I get it now. I see the reason."

He chuckles boisterously with his chest, emanating a trashy confidence.

"Please enlighten us," Roger gestures to all the onlookers surrounding us. I swallow hard and lift my chin.

"You're threatened by my influence on Jack. You had to break me down slowly so I couldn't take anymore. This was the planned outcome. You've kept them alive to make all of this happen the way you wanted it to, because you're threatened by me."

It's still and quiet for what feels like minutes, but what's probably only for a few seconds. Roger's blank expression is hardly dismantled from what I can see, but then, it breaks into a sly curl.

"You dumb bitch, I'm not threatened by you." He leers. "Don't you hear yourself? If I were threatened by you, I would just kill you."

"But you wouldn't." I interrupt. "Because it wouldn't be that simple. I don't threaten you with strength like how you threaten others. I threaten you because of my position by Jack." I say it all matter of factly.

"You couldn't just simply kill me like you killed the others, because of Jack."

Roger stands stiffly with a straight spine, his steady eyes resting on me. He shows absolutely zero struggle to not break eye contact, and yet I'm forcing myself to not let my gaze flicker away under pressure.

"You're threatened, because he's your best friend. He was with you when all that shit with your family went down. You were always his Second in Command. Then I came into the picture, unsolicited. You're scared that I'll take your place at his side. That you'll lose the control you've always had because of me. You're worried that after everything you've been through, he'll hand over your position to me, a girl he only met a few months ago."

He stands with a deadpan face. I don't get even a flinch to offer ideas of his thought process.

"Killing me wouldn't earn you anything. So in turn, you only had the need to slowly break me down, because I'm the only one you see as a threat. You wanted me to feel targeted so I'd back down myself, which would be seamless. Or so what? So that I'd eventually beg for death when everyone else is gone?? It makes sense, because then you wouldn't have to deal with Jack's response. You think me getting murdered would be different in Jack's eyes rather than anyone else getting murdered. Because again, you think of me more highly than you care to admit."

Roger shakes his head, unreadable. 

"We have no timeline of anything, or what the future is even going to look like for us! You waited to decide what my next moves would be. You waited to see where things would fall, what chess pieces get sacrificed. Any chess piece may be sacrificed, minus the king. You know you have superiority. You knew I'd misjudge because I knew nothing about you when we landed here. So answer this one question, Roger..."

My words trail off as I look at him harder. 

"What's your next move?" 

He doesn't move for several seconds. I don't expect him to. Then he shifts. His downcast eyes flicker up to me, and his lips bend into a nasty snarl.

"You pathetic little fuck-"

I don't wait to find out his motive. It's almost a simultaneous action -- my hand sweeping the blade from his waistband. He can't react before I dig the short blade in his arm, my lip curling with feverish intent. I see the onlookers lurch forward. An agonizing cry pries through his lips as he raises his hand, rock in clutch. I relinquish my hold and stumble back before he can bring the stone down onto my head.

Roger lets his guard down once I create the short distance between us to grip his weeping wound. I pant through crippled lungs and shuffle backwards frantically, watching him with widened eyes as he makes me his point of focus once more. He leaves himself no time to mourn his injury.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" He growls to the other hunters. His expression looks insane. "Fucking help me!"

They're frozen. Their wide-eyed gazes flicker between Roger and I. Luke looks bewildered for once. Now that it's come down to it, they are all unsure of what to do. They don't budge, conflicted. I understand why immediately. Jack is the leader, not Roger. Hurting me would mean consequences with their actual leader who is currently nowhere to be seen. Roger fixates his crazed eyes on me again, snarling through the pain as he advances forward.

I run for it. My legs ran faster than my mind as I travel down Castle Rock. I need to get to Ralph. Jack is gonna kill him, come morning. It's the one thing I gathered from his words. I nearly stumble to my knees when I make it to the bottom, skidding on sharp rocks and loose soil. Yes! I'm gonna make it!

I shoot forward down the path, feeling the adrenaline rise in me.

I'm gonna make it. I'm gonna make-

A crack splits through my ears. Then came that throbbing pain that hissed in my skull. Somehow I ended up on the ground, and my chin busted against the small stones in the fall, renewing my old scar. Red dashed the white sand and grey pebbles. Clawing to regain coherency, my muscles and bones turned to jelly -- useless as I tried to push myself up.

Warm wetness trickles from my scalp, down my cheek. My pupils dilate unevenly, as the images my eyes could see morphed through different forms of blurriness. Nausea sprung up in my gut, but after gulping hard, I muster some strength to stand up. Then I saw it -- a bloody stone that rests a few feet away. Everything comes shattering down around me. Looking up again, Roger stares back down at me with a sinister expression. Seeing that I stood up, he darts to the left, where the slope down the mountain was to get at my level.

The stabbing pain sends spasms of hurt down my spine as my feet pound the ground to get away from Castle Rock. 

Dear diary. I still believe there's good in everyone- even the worst of us. I believe we're all worth saving, and I guess that is a belief I am willing to die for.

I have to find Ralph.

Pages of words flutter down from the sky, twirling gracefully in the air as voices read them out loud in my ears. I blink at them, confused and in that exact moment, the pages disappear like they never existed.

Not having time to go through with another thought, my back is slammed against a tree. My head bounces off the bark like a basketball, triggering the worst bellow of pain to go ricocheting through my ears. A ring sets off like a drilling hum; a needle grinding into my frontal lobe. I feel a pair of calloused hands holding my shoulders back. 

The truth is lingering, and it feels like a tumor that has wedged itself between the tip of my spine and base of my skull. 

"Nowhere to go now, bitch."

Black caves into my vision from all directions. No, no, no... I try to pry myself into reality to escape the beast, the bitch, noticing that my blazer somehow made it to the floor. Getting sucked further in the black hole, a senstion of water flooding my ears creeps up and I can't hear the boy. It was too muffled to make the words out. But I fully fall into the darkness.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

When we first arrived on the island, we made the trip up the mountain for a first fire. I stared into the flames and it for some reason perplexed me. I thought that fire is needed to be controlled or else it would burn all precious things away. Come to think about it now, was I more wrong or right? Is there even a right answer for that? Because I've figured it out now. It's not about a stupid fire, it's us. Simon was right, and he always was.

Humanity is the real fire of the Earth. Fire spreads chaos naturally, like a default setting. It's only good once it's been controlled. Aren't we the same way?

Humans need control over them. We need order and we need law and rules to go by. Without it, utter destruction takes over, and then all Hell breaks loose. Humans are inherently evil. So may I question it again; how different are we from fire?

What good has ripping us out of society done for us? We complain, and complain, and complain about simple school guidelines, but where have we gotten without those limits? How much further can it all go?

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Crickets chittering in the night with different frogs of all sorts is what wakes me up. How many hours have passed?

My eyes crack open, and light burns my vision. With cotton mouth, I began to dry heave while resisting to urge to sob out. Everything hurts, and my core is aching without end. I press my knuckles into the side of my head to tame the throb. Dry blood had caked and hardened in my now suddenly much more disheveled hair.

A sick feeling overwhelms my senses. No... No... No, no, no... I fix myself in a frenzy, redoing the wrong buttons on my shirt and yanking my blazer on. I don't want to know. I can't let my mind linger on it any longer. 

Ralph is who I need to find -- a dead man walking. Hunters are gonna kill him one way or another. And then there's Jack, who I feel so bonded to in such an odd way. It's when you like someone, only stronger, but I don't know why I feel so for him. Gulping hard, I force myself to stand up.

The first attempt shocks me, sending another spasm of hurt to crack inside my skull. Suddenly hissing in pain, I grab my head in my hand while the other stays pressed against the tree behind me to maintain balance.

Attempt number two -- I manage to rise up in a crooked stance.

My body rejects the position, showing me flashes of colors and stars to dance along my line of vision. Blinking rapidly, I shoo them away. Okay, deep breath. You got this. My foot lifts off the ground to take a step. As soon as the sole of my shoe makes initial contact with the grassy surface, a wave of dizziness drop kicks me and I tumble back down to my knees.

"Fuck!" I scream absentmindedly, rubbing my eyes to ward off a more horrible developing headache. Tears prick my eyes, but more so in frustration than anything. I slam a fist into the ground, spewing unintelligible curses.

A disturbance is heard rustling through the dark greenery ahead of me. My attention nervously turns to it. There's a build up of silence, it creeps up on me from all directions. I expect to see death hit me right then, but i'm relieved to see a piglet waddle out. I let out a sigh I hadn't realized I was holding in. Poor guy was probably spooked awake by me.

Ralph floats back into mind.

Third time's a charm -- that's what they always say. Inhaling a breath of air, I pick myself back up. My body trembles abnormally, but that's no matter. I just need to find Ralph. This time, I take a longer moment to regain full coherency in both my thinking and vision.

When the spinning dwindles down, I take a step. Lo and behold, I haven't eaten dirt yet! Progress at its finest. My heart speeds up, encouraged by the small success. My body takes another moment before going at a second wobbly step. It's like learning how to walk all over again, as if I'm some helpless baby. Pathetic, but also not my fault. A flash of a smile breaches the corner of my mouth, but vanishes immediately with my intent focus drowning it out.

And so it goes, step after step. Stability starts to reclaim its place in my movements, and I pick up slight speed. Of course, I'll still see double the amount of trees and double the amount of vines if I go too fast. Regardless, maybe the third time really is a charm.

I stumble over to the running river like a drunken person exiting the bar and collapse to my knees. To say I'm thirsty is an understatement. Oddly ravenous, I bucket handfuls of water into my mouth, savoring the cool feeling down my throat. Some of the soreness dulls away, just faintly. What could ruin this glorious moment?

Well, the horrific mental images that imprinted themselves into my brain can. The boulder, the blood- Piggy. Piggy's jaw -- or rather the lack of one. Nausea hits me in a wave, but I fight down the urge to puke. With the images now clicking through my mind like a slideshow, the crisp water starts to taste more metallicy, like blood.

Repulsed, I spat into the river and wipe my mouth. I stand up with a little less effort this time, and I drag my feet away from the river. Going back to our camp doesn't strike me as an idea. For one thing; I don't assume that Ralph would be stupid enough to go back there. If anything, it's the first place hunters would check, and I think Ralph is aware that they'll try something against him soon.

Pushing through the foliage with the little stamina that my head injury somewhat mercifully offered, I'd find myself crying out if I turned or moved too sharply. I want to believe that I'm a good person. Regardless of someone's doings, I think there's good in everyone, unless they are the true embodiment of evil. That without the second thought in the blink of an eye, they could kill someone in cold blood. And they could do it without having to suffer the residual guilt.

I think guilt is our sign of confirmation that we still have that sliver of goodness in us. This leaves the question of what the hunters limits are. Or should I even question crazy at all?

Wincing at every bolt of pain, I keep the meticulous navigation of climbing over, under, and through the topsy-turvy obstical course of the jungle. My jaw relaxes a bit, but I scan lasers through the feral darkness that fills the already mysterious ambience to the brim. It's unpredictable.

Everything feels eerie. Everywhere I turn, the whispers of paranoia hiss like a chorus of venomous serpents while I anticipate Roger's presence to suddenly emerge. A haze of contradictions fall over my mind to blur the lines of reality and delusion. A grotesque watercolor painting.

"Ralph?" I call out softly, unsure of what i'd hear back. My ears strain for any movement, capable of hearing a pin drop against hardwood floor with this fragile tranquility. In the jungle, though, even the smallest whispers carry. They ebb and they flow.

"Ralph?" I repeat, a bit louder this time as I meandered through. The call sends a wracking vibration thundering through my skull. A hand instinctively glues to my scalp to dull the throb. Fuck. I don't even know what the state of my injury is. Moving too fast is enough to make me topple, and shouting feels like a beating. The blood points to an open wound, but I'm sure the bleeding has somewhat stopped.

This can't stop me. It just can't. I'm not losing Ralph. My hand grips the trunk of a tree for dear life, fading the color in my fingertips to a white hue. Relinquishing the death grip, my trek continues on. Thorns that caught my bare knees left red little nicks.

Going on for about an hour, almost all hope feels lost. Defying that idea, a hand grabs my shoulder, dropping an icy ball of fear in my gut. I jump around to the face the perpetrator, but I am pleased to only see Ralph.

"Veronica," he says just barely above a whisper. The boy's eyes look heavy, completely crest-fallen. Facing him, my face screws up as grief begins picking away at me.

"Ralph..." I pull him into a hug and try not to mind the strike of pain in my head. He squeezes me tightly to his frame as I press my lips to his shoulder, biting back the rising sobs. I'm so done. I'm angry with Jack, Roger- Hell, even the universe for dropping us here. I don't know why I hold such pure feelings for Jack, who has become such a monster.

Finally, Ralph pulls back to view my face through our coughing and sniffling.

"Hi," he says softly. We both grin through the heck of it all.

"Well, hey there," I giggle in return, blinking away the last few tears.

He brushes his fingers across my temple to move my mess of hair, but that's when he sees it; the injury. "Oh, my God. Veronica, what happened?"

I stare at him in shock, and touch my fingers to the wound before hissing in pain. Overwhelming concern grows across his expression. Still, he holds the side of my face, stroking a thumb across my temple.

"Roger, he-"

"You're fucking kidding me," Ralph snarls over my words. I nod instead of speaking. "When?" He almost demands the answer.

"It was after you left- then I don't remember what happened, but-"

Ralph curses out, his face scowling in self depreciation. "I'm sorry." He blurts. "I should have waited for you. I'm sorry."

The brunette tore his eyes away from the wound, looking guilty as ever. My eyebrows wrinkle sadly.

"It's not your fault. It was Roger," I reason, turning his face back to look at me. He shakes his head. "But I'm the one who left you alone with that bastard. Fuck."

My chest tightens. "Well, I was with Jack first," my words progressively dwindle to a whisper. Intrigue peaks his eyes, so I continue.

"It's really fuzzy, but I left, and Roger got me. I don't know what happened after, but I woke up in the jungle. It was dark."

Swallowing hard, Ralph rubs a hand over his mouth to collect his flurrying thoughts.

"Did he do anything to you?"

"I don't- I don't know."

He studies my face for a moment more before saying, "I'm sorry." Sighing, I lean forward and plant the softest of a kiss on his cheek. Then, my forehead presses to his shoulder once more. Pain flares up momentarily.

"Piggy..." I say softly. Arms wrap back around my frame. "I know-- it's Roger." He consoles.

I pull away when the horrifying realization reaches me again. "Ralph. I think they're gonna kill you." My eyes widen as the words leave my lips.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out," he admits, diverting his gaze to the vast terrain. I bite my lip in contemplation, but my thoughts are interrupted.

"We should go back to Castle Rock," he states so casually that it takes me aback. I start to protest.

"Why would we ever-"

"- I know. I think we should convince Sam to switch over. And maybe, Robert, Tony, and Rapper, too," He explains, trying to cover my concerns. "We'll have to be slick, but I think we can do it."

I pause, staring at him with a veil of doubt. 

"What else do we have to lose, Veronica?" He adds with a sense of seriousness. The phrase hits me like a pound of bricks. Blinking rapidly, I nod wordlessly. That alone acts as my answer, and the only confirmation he needs. 

"Good," he replies.

And so we go. Ralph holds my arm, my hand, or even the small of my back throughout the travel to Castle Rock to aid me, navigating through the velvety twilight. To say that it's considerably easier to walk with his help would be an understatement. Going back to the place that Piggy last stood chills me to the bone. Grotesque images come back to plague me.

The top of the hill peekaboos over the tree tops in the distance. We both pause and stare at the visible grey arch. A few hunters are even visible keeping look out.

"Go this way." Ralph veers us to the left. I take one more glance before going with him. Dizziness shakes through me for a moment, and he even steadies me to regain some clarity. Thankfully I'm not seeing double of everything anymore. Keeping somewhat hunched as we hurry behind the foliage, we take on the path to Castle Rock practically hugging the walls of stone to keep from being visible.

Maybe the universe felt bad for us and gave us a pass. Because coincidentally, Sam and Tony are sitting, watching the smoldering fire that is, for one -- not producing any smoke, and two -- way too low. Ralph puts an arm out, keeping me behind him. Pressing our backs to the rock, our heads crane forward to see the two hunters. At the nod of Ralph's head, we both creep up hurriedly, careful to not make a noise.

"Sam... Tony..." Ralph calls out in a hushed voice, not quite a whisper. Alarmed, both hunters jump up. 

"It's only us," the brunette assures. Calmer, they relax and lean against their spears. 

"You guys shouldn't be here," Sam advises in downcast, shaking his head.

"You're not allowed," Tony adds.

"Veronica," Sam addresses me more seriously. "Jack said that if we saw you, to send you over to him."

My eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see double of both boys with the same dizziness whirling around me. Blinking it away, I answer him incredulously. 

"But you wouldn't do that, would you?"

Sam shifts on his feet in discomfort.

"No..." He admits quietly. I nod in approval. Jack shouldn't want anything to do with me. Seeing him will only make things more difficult, despite what my heart told me. My brain ruled all emotion out.

"Honestly? I think he's... well, worried." Says Tony. The twin nods in agreement.

"Yeah, and Jack had Roger sharpen a stick at both ends." Sam nods his head to Ralph. The puzzle pieces click. Jack doesn't want me to get caught up, but why? 

"The hunters are supposed to come after you," Tony informs with a frown on his face.

"If that happens, it'll be because you let it happen," I warn harshly, glowering at them both. The hunters stiffen up at the subtle accusation. Ralph speaks up next.

"If you don't stand up to him, you're just another one of his slaves."

Sam and Tony stare at us like deer in headlights. I swallow hard as guilt picks at me; Seeing Sam alone. Eric.

"Don't you guys want to join us again? It's better all of us than just Ralph and I!" I exclaim, still staying hushed. The boys glance to each other with unreadable expressions.

"You know we can't do that," Sam says solemnly. I begin to sputter out, flustered. 

"But- we're better off if we all stick together!" I try spewing out the justifications. As the hope dwindles, my voice cracks. I start to step forward, but Ralph places a hand on my shoulder. 

"Please," I practically beg.

Neither of them budge, wearing sad expressions. There's only one more thing that I can think to say, and I didn't want to resort to the insensitive idea.

"Aren't you mad, Sam?" I ask as honestly as possible. He pauses, catching on. 

"Aren't you mad about Eric? Why do you want to stay here? They don't care for any of you."

His face turns hard, making me realize that I hit a nerve, and maybe even crossed a line. I'm not backtracking, not this time. "You don't get to talk about Eric." He states, shockingly calm.

Through the hard front he put up, I see it in his eyes; the hurt, the anger, the fire raging.

"You think I want to have my brother buried up there?" Sam ardently points in the direction of the hill with the cave. "I want to bring him home for his funeral. I want him to be buried in the cemetery at the church me and my family always went to. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be stuck with any of this."

My breathing hardens, bulking like ice in my lungs. The shaking in Sam's hands is visible, unable to be hidden as he remains motioning to the direction of the hill. 

"I don't even remember him being buried. I don't know who did it, or how long it took, or if I even helped. I didn't even get to have a say, but it doesn't matter, because we aren't getting out of here. We're not going home."

Shouldn't Sam feel betrayed? Roger, a person who is supposed to be on his side, killed his brother. I shake my head, giving into the reality.

"I don't give a fuck if these people don't care about me. I don't care about them, either." His voice is low, but trembling as the volume is trying to crash through the floor of his voice. A faint bitter smile taints his lips, withering with each grief-driven word. 

"Eric is dead," Sam articulates without wavering. "I don't care what happens to us anymore. Don't you get it? That's why it doesn't matter if I stay on their side. I don't care. Literally none of it fucking matters. It's all over. You can't say shit to me about what should matter." 

My hands twitch at my sides as the icy words rain down on me. I feel my heart soaking in sorrow at the numb finality in his voice. I want to hug him, or to offer something that might ease his heartache, but no words seem right. None will help the grieving boy. He is in pain, and what he's saying, no matter how blunt, is still a truth. His words are heard, and I accept them with gentle hands.

"I understand," I answer calmly. "And I'm sorry. I wish you the best." 

They stare back at us. Not once did Ralph speak up to intervene. Maybe that's because he thought the same thing I did. Sam's face soon softens, but his heavy breaths still tremble, cracking more the emotion after each passing moment. 

"Hey! Keep alert down there!" A voice calls down from way above us, at the very top of Castle Rock. The boys snap their gazes to the voice, while Ralph and I instantly start backing away, slow and careful.

"Wait!" The hunters call us back in hushed whisper. We look back curiously. Hesitant at first, like they're contemplating what's right and wrong, I don't expect their next action. At the same time, Sam and Tony hand their spears over to us.

"Good luck, Colonel." Tony does a mock salute to the both of us. I stare at the weapon in hand, stunned that they'd even hand it over. I mutter a small thanks without looking up.

"You guys need to go," Sam urges us, flashing many anxious glances to the top of Castle Rock. Ralph looks at me and grabs my hand. Without any more exchanges, we leg it down the path, careful to not trip over loose rocks. Darting into the woods and through the thorned thickets, we don't stop until coming across a secluded area, well hidden.

Breathless and exhausted, the two of us collapse down and sit like rocks. I don't know what Jack's plans are to scout out Ralph. However it goes, it surely won't be pleasant. The burn wound seethes away like a raging fire, screaming at me to check the bandaging -- so I do. Jack had tightened it pretty snugly, but it's been wearing down with my overuse of it. Sighing, I look over to Ralph.

"I wanna go someplace where no one knows my name."

Chuckling in the dreariness, he gives my unharmed hand a squeeze. "If we get off this island, you can do that." He nods.

"But either way, you're always stuck with me."

I smile at him softly. After all of this shit, there wouldn't be a chance that I'd lose contact with him. 

Sniffling, I lift up my bandaged hand, and grimaced as I slowly peeled the bloodied fabric back. It was sticky on my skin, and the many layers were hardened together. My eyes welled up at the horrific scar just in spite of everything. Seeing it was the icing on top. The grotesque burn scrawled across my palm, branched out. The damaged skin that was folded back like flower petals before were now pressed flat against my flesh with pus.

"That is fucking gross," I shuddered. Ralph cringed away from the sight and refused to look at it, understandably so.

"Put it away now," he choked out. I pursed my lips and pulled the shredded dressing together, feebly making the attempt to wrap it the way Jack did.

There was a shuffle sound on the ground as Ralph adjusted his legs to a criss-cross applesauce position. My head found his shoulder to lean on in the darkness. He settled down and slowly then, we drifted into sleep.

♕︎♕︎♕︎

Smoke clouds our spot at the crack of dawn. There's the horrifying awareness that Jack is trying to smoke out Ralph so he can do God knows what. Just like the way he caught his kills. We've been devalued down to pigs. Animals. 

Insanity only reveals itself when someone chooses to unlock it. If you are removed from the civilization, the mind is unrestrained, and able to indulge in the darkest abilities of mankind. It is happening now, and we are going to face those people.

A cold sensation of terror begins weaving needles through every vertebrae of my spine.

"Ralph, wake up!" I hiss, shaking his shoulder. Startled awake, he groggily turns his head to me. It only takes a moment as he straightens up in realization.

"Holy shit," he whispers, perking up to scan the dense foliage. Soon enough, the air will be too smoky to breathe, toxic to our lungs, and soon enough hold the capability to scorch our skin. As we sit in the darkest nook of the island, air masks our faces. I feel his hand wrap around my forearm as he prepares to pull us both up. It's not until we hear the faintest of a voice speaking commands in the distance that he darts, taking me with him.

"Where are we going?" I exclaim, shrieking as a burning vine singes my side. Leaping over a fallen tree, we dive down into a ditch. "Anywhere they aren't," he replies breathlessly.

We hear the flames ruthlessly devouring the years of Mother Nature's effort, like swishing a hand over the surface of once tepid water.

"They'll have to kill me before they kill you," I state with surprising strength, tangling my fingers with his. "And Jack wouldn't kill me."

"I know," Ralph forces a smile, returning the grasp on my hand. "But if it does come down to it, we aren't going down without a fight."

My eyes narrow in concern hearing that possibility, but I shake it off and nod as thick black ash plasters dryly against the interior of my throat. I heave and cough.

"We split up," Jack barks to his hunters many yards away. Ralph curses under his breath and we start running the opposite direction. My head throbs at the sharp movements, begging me to sit down. Adrenaline is my best medication right now.

Ralph constantly checks behind himself. And at the wrong moment, he glances back just as a painted boy runs up on us, screaming like a banshee. In a swift motion, I shove him to the side with the spear given to me, but the boy rips it from my hands as he falls. Neither of us stop to take it as the fire quickly spreads and we hear the hunters approach.

We dodge the obstacles on our trail and discover another thicket to hide in. It's smaller, and not as discrete. Like waiting out a storm, we sit and anticipate for them to scope past in search of us. Crouching down, still holding Ralph's hand, a movement disturbs the corner of my vision. Skittish, my head immediately snaps over to it.

Two figures scope by, hunched like the rest, but there's a certain hesitance dwelling in their postures. Sam and Tony are veered no more than eight feet to our left.

"Ralph," my voice cracks at the syllable. Sam is maneuvering over a husk of foliage, but I sense a shift in his current motive as the small sound catches his ears. Sam's head turns to look over his shoulder, earning a small, strangled gasp from me.

His eyes looked dull and uninhabited. Tired. Like he's not all there. Then we blink, and he yanks himself fully around, eyes widening as he recognizes us. I stumble slightly, not expecting such a sharp movement out of him, but now I can finally get a swift survey of his current state.

His skin is black and blue from welted bruises that clash in color with the red slashes. It looks painful. The lone twin frantically taps his absent companion's arm, and I swallow the butterflies trying to escape my throat. Tony is just as stunned, staring at us with a vacant expression, like that of a deer in headlights.

This is where we get caught. It's gonna happen any moment now. They will surge forward at us, and yell for the others. My eyes squeeze shut in self-beratement to relinquish from the intense stare down. Any moment...

"Do you see anything over there?" Jack calls out to the two boys. Here it comes...

"No... nothing," Sam answers, keeping eyes on me. My jaw softens in surprise and the dread momentarily falters. Looking at him, I notice the fresh scars littering his skin once again. When did he get those? However, I don't get to study them any longer as both Sam and Tony continue on past us. Ralph glances at me -- we're pairing faces of shell-shock from that small rush.

Looks like someone else caught onto the boys lie... Suspicious that someone inspects the area for himself; Roger. I start to breathe hard, but Ralph places a hand over my mouth. A moment later, Roger squints through the thick smoke and locks eyes with me.

"Jack!"

"Go, now!" Ralph pushes the small of my back. Shooting out of the thicket, we start our run with the crowd now chasing us. It was more like shark and guppy, or cat and mouse. When have I ever had to run faster than this? I certainly didn't run this fast after helping JD fake a double suicide for Kurt and Ram after the cops heard us. The only sliver of solace was Ralph's hand clinging onto mine. That's enough motivation to push me through.

I race faster than my thoughts can even tap my brain. The blur of my sprinting body laces through trees in a serpentine manner as adrenaline surges through us. Roots and raised bumps on the ground faintly rock my balance, but I persist with heaving breaths making their course through my lungs.

Flames lick our ankles as the fire eats away at the once crisp greenery of the jungle, forming another crack in civilization. What horrible, horrible kids, and I'm one of them.

A crackle rings through the air as a tree trunk starts to split in front of us. My eyes widen in horror as the towering thing tilts down to the ground too quickly to process it, separating us down the middle. Smoke billowed and scorched my face. I inhale -- fumes weaved through teeth and scrape my throat.

Jumping in opposite directions, I roll a few feet, grunting on impact with the ground. Shooting back up, I strain my eyes through the smoke to find Ralph. Before I can take the moment, I hear the hunter's chant as they're on our trail. There's no other option than to keep running. And now I realize it -- me and Ralph have been split up.

𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

The hunters scatter as the trees hit the ground, a few barely missing it.

"Fuck!" Jack snarls, growing angrier.

"Split up! Find that piece of shit!" He refers to Ralph who is already long gone, sprinting away. His grip on the spear tightens as the scowl grows. Jack still remains unaware of Veronica's whereabouts, assuming she'd been running with Ralph -- it's so hard to see through the smoke.

He hissed in pain when he felt a sting penetrate his finger. Ripping his hand off the spear, Jack sees a splinter under the calloused skin. His grip had tightened so severely around the weapon that the wood splintered enough to get in his hand. He stared down at it, contemplating.

"M-Merridew?" A voice asked meekly.

"What!?" He growled, throwing his hand up in the air. Sam flinched back in mild fear. Jack's throat constricted at the sight of fresh scars littering the lone twin's body. The work of Roger, no doubt. In no room to question or interfere with those conditions, Jack specifically choose to focus on the twin's repainted face.

"Are you sure...?" Sam's eyes widened considerably. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Jack's knuckles locked around the spear again. "Are you gonna question this again? Fucking move out!"

Sam straightened up at an instant, and scampered away. Jack's eyes followed in the direction he moved as his chest heaved, gleaming with sweat. Roger scouts by him wordlessly, smirking at the pathetic boy who ran off. The blonde looked at him with exhaustion.

'Seriously?' He asked silently without speaking. Roger caught Jack's look on what he had referred to with his face, not needing to hear the words out loud to understand. Torturing Sam the night before they planned this man hunt? Jack knew Roger wasn't stupid enough to not know that they needed to have full health for this day.

Then again, the interrogation of finding Ralph was probably his excuse to carry out such violent acts. Jack didn't question his real intention, nor did he care enough. As long as Roger didn't do so much as lay a finger on Vera, then he didn't care. If she's okay and uninjured - no harm, no foul.

Letting Roger take his anger out on someone else that isn't Veronica is a price that her and Ralph don't realize Jack was willing to pay. Anyone else is expendable, maybe even Roger, but she hasn't realized it yet.

Roger's dark eyes stared back at Jack. They flickered off to the smoke in question, then back at Jack's spear. They gave each other a curt nod of agreement before Roger parted off into the burning foliage. Ash clung to the interior of their throats. Resisting the urge to swallow the dryness, Jack trekked on.

A sticky feeling of sweat dripping from the rim of his hairline pestered fiercely. Jack's footsteps remained quiet, masked by the crackling fire.

Relying on the adrenaline to aid him in this mission, as well as being the motivation to stomach what he was going to do, he scoped through the jungle that was now up in flames. Not succeeding would make this all pointless. All for nothing at all. Jack knew that when this would be all over, Veronica would despise him more than she already had. She'd have to understand the terms sooner or later.

Though a part of him dwelled like a buzz in the back of his skull. Some part of Jack that told himself he wouldn't actually carry through with this absurd intention. No, that's the weak Jack. The part that needed to burn with the jungle.

Sweat drips down his temple, but still fails to wash away any paint whatsoever. There's no glimmers of his lost innocence. Old Jack is gone. He crouches behind foliage, trying to remain as quiet as possible.

A rustle tampers through the greenery a few yards ahead of him. Running on pure adrenaline, he lunges forward, striking the person. Jack feels the spear wedge the whole way through at a tough push. He hasn't even seen the person clearly, he didn't need to.

The figure emits a sharp gasp before crumbling to the ground. I did it, he thinks to himself. I killed Ralph. Why was it so simple?

In his own triumph, a smile stretches on his face sadistically. At last, it's time to revel in the long awaited victory. Ralph would have only pushed Jack so far till he reached his limit. He looks down with a smug expression, mixed with what could only be shock. Then, he saw her.

Veronica lay sprawled on the ground, ragged breathing gurgled up her throat. Despaired, crushed, unfathomable. His body takes a snapshot as he peers down at her crumbled body below him. The reality of truth settles in the depths of his mind before flurrying chaotically.

"Veronica..." Is the only whisper he can manage to utter before collapsing to his knees. A hole in her back gushed blood onto the ground, sinking into the dirt. As carefully as he can, he turns her over to view her face, recoiling at the exit wound implanted in her stomach.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, okay-"

Blooming like a rose, the red mass spreads like a virus to taint her white, ash-tone button up. Jack curses under his breath.

"Shit." He swallowed the pain in this throat and attempted to take control over his breathing.

"Veronica, please hold on," he begged while pressing a flat hand to the wound. "Stay a while longer."

His vision was out of whack. A blurred canvas of fuzzy clouds while his heartbeat occupied his eardrums. Then, his vision focused in on something, like two camera lenses. A gnarly gash right in her temple.

His face contorted into a confused frown. He reached out to touch her head.

Who did this to you...

His focus was snapped when he felt her shift and squirm in his grasp. Jack sucked in a breath and scanned her face.

Her eyes crack open for the first time in those desperate seconds. Dark hair has fallen over her face. Tentatively with shaky hands, Jack's fingers brush the messy strands away to see her better, and he strokes Veronica's face -- searching for a sign that can prove her survival. Putting all the love he could into the touch, he speaks again.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." The last part comes out sobbed. "Don't go."

"Red is such a pretty color..." She utters finally, tracing the red stripes marking his cheeks till her eyes drifted down.

"My shirt is red now, thank you so much," she said sarcastically through forced breaths. "Funny how that worked." A half smile tries to calm him.

Tears streamed down his face. Who would have thought that Jack Merridew could be seen crying? He shook his head at her statement, trying to make sense of it all. 

"No, it's not funny. Far from funny."

"It will be okay, Jack. She wore red, too." 

His face could only crumble in perplexion as she spoke. She's slipping, he thought. 

"So did they. They also wore red," she choked. "He said, Ich Lüge, but I'm telling you the truth."

Jack shook his head helpessly. "What??"

She didn't respond after that. No matter how hard he pressed, the blood sneakily slipped past his hand. The bright red rose on her ash-tainted shirt was darkening to almost a blackened-wine hue. He looked into her eyes while feeling the very fluid of her life effortlessly drain away, no longer warmer than her flesh.

"I thought leaving would make things better." Her forehead tensed as her eyes slammed shut again. "No one can promise when it ends."

"I'm sorry." He stared at her face sadly as she rambled. Weakly, she mustered up the strength to reach up; a slack hand limply drags away his tears. He noticed he ring he made for her so long ago, still on her finger. It stunned him to see, and he couldn't comprehend why she would still have it. 

Now, Jack is the eye of his own storm. A sheet of calmness dwelled under the grass. With every moment, he watched her remaining strength roll away.

"Don't die," he choked on his tears. "Please." His face searched hers desperately, making her finally break.

"Please, Jack..." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Please use the nickname."

Not even taking time to review the impact of his next phrase, Jack blurts out in a blind urgency.

"I love you, Vera." The blonde gasps as soon as the words leave his mouth, recoiling and waiting for a negative reaction. They both paused.

Wait, he hadn't ever said that before. The girl's eyes screw closed again as the hot waves of pain incessantly pierce her spine like searing metal rods while her mind slipped further into delirium. Grimacing, the impeding words manage to escape her scarlet tinted lips.

"I love you, too."

There it goes. The simple phrase unleashes after being bottled up for months on end. It relished nicely in the air above the smoke to mix with the sadness. Whether or not its meaning was said to be true is another story. She raises a quivering hand to her temple to give him that two-fingered mock salute that she grew so accustomed to doing with him. It was a weak attempt to uphold even a dose of humor in this moment. Her fingers shake as the energy depletes from her body with every ragged breath leaving her lungs. 

In a spur of instinct, Jack leans down and kisses her softly -- as if pressing his lips too hard would make her shatter and slip into death on the spot. Taking advantage of the little-to-no energy, Veronica returns his kiss. Nothing fancy or overly romantic -- just a final kiss goodnight. The hand that she saluted with melts away from her temple to instead cup his face.

His thumb traced her jawline and sculpted the arches of her cheekbones, not quite tenderly... Like he was frantically trying to memorize her features all over again for a second time in fear of losing grasp of them. Jack felt her shudder when his fingers glided across her cheeks. He couldn't see her with his eyes closed, yet there was the full awareness letting him know that he was prodding her faint spray of new freckles.

It was a demented game of what-if, guessing when would be the end as he silently pleaded for her survival. The fire, the other deaths, time itself was irrelevant.

A few painful, but anticipated seconds crawl by through the minimal space wedged between them. Sadly, her lips part open, and her frame slackens like a string against his chest -- her muscles let go of the ropes holding her soul in. Who knew how sickening this could feel?

Noticing the slight, sudden increase in the girl's body weight, the realization hits Jack like a pound of bricks. She's dead. Veronica Sawyer is dead.

Her soul slid into Death's arms with such ease, and he carried her to shore. The girl with coffee stained eyes is no longer a dead girl walking. Her clock ran out, and Death finally caught up to her before it could restart. Jack clenched his jaw.

Veronica. Fleshy lips mouthed the word as electricity zipped through his veins.

"No," his blue eyes widen and he paws at her body. "No, no, no, no, no..." The faucet in those eyes flip on while staring at her lifeless ones. She gazed at the sky blankly, seeing nothing. Somberly, Jack closes them, allowing her to rest.

His hands trembled terribly as his face poured. Just one more kiss, he said silently, his eyes studying her unmoving face. He wouldn't kiss her without a response, and a response isn't something he would get from her ever again. He traced her lips with his fingers, and a sob shook him.

"You're alright, Veronica Sawyer." The shaky words fell from his quivering lips, but it felt that the meaning was just as flimsy.

From meeting her on the plane and cussing each other out, to long walks on the beach. He remembers how she stood out to him in the airport, along with their first conversation on the plane and how he treated her. Then, there was their first kiss. So many things happened in the time on the island -- Growing a relationship and learning little hidden facts about the other before they split apart, and she died by his hand.

Why had it been her? Why not Ralph? With a heaving chest and sobs jerking up his throat, Jack carefully picks her up and cradled her crippled body to his chest. 

"No!" He cried even louder, his tears drip onto her face. The walk to the beach begins.

In a daze with tears streaming endlessly, Jack drags his feet away from the location, straight faced. Her head hangs back like a broken flower stem, and her arms swinging like vines in a breeze. The boy can't bare to watch her dead movements, the way her once beautifully curled hair -- now tangled, flowed in the air.

The finality of it all is sick. It's disturbing how only the purest of people get the worst ending... That is if you'd even consider Miss. Sawyer to be a 'pure' soul. Simon, Eric, Piggy, then Veronica and possibly Ralph. Possibly. Why? Saying that death doesn't discriminate is a lie. It's chooses only the best people so early. Light dances through parted trees in the distance, a glimmer of blue managed to slice the suffocating smoke that consumed the forest. So close, yet so far.

Meanwhile, Ralph's feet pounded the ground, weaving through the towering trees and thickets. The former chief had one person on his mind; Veronica. Somehow, he lost her. There was the fire, and -- and the tree that fell... it all happened so fast. Great walls of grey smoke penetrated the once beautiful ambience of the jungle, attempting to suffocate the boy who clung to his chance of survival.

He paused to breathe, and rested his eyelids closed. He could still see the virescent mosaic above, swirling in the sky, and feel the burning air wrap tighter than his own skin. Unfettered light illuminated the scorched up ground. Drinking in a breath, the scissoring of his running legs resumed, carrying him many yards per second.

One would tremble at the state of the jungle. Trees that had graciously canopied them with shelters of green are now beams of charcoal sticking out of the ground, beyond one's recognition. 

Savages had picked off every hiding spot with their destruction, gradually cornering the boy in the huge terrain. It's like a game of cat and mouse. They wielded spears, keeping them ready even in this great chase. Ralph's muscles screamed at him, begging for respite. Unfortunately for him, the mental requests must go ignored. With energy surging at the sound of chants, he pushed harder.

Skidding to a half when another clump of painted boys circled in front of his path, only one thought ran through his head as he stared at the enemies -- Actually, the fact that they were now titled as 'his enemies' made his stomach flip-flop with queasiness. They had nefariously delighted looks slashed across their painted faces - the whites of their eyes gleamed as a sharp contrast against the harsh charcoal and sickening grins.

Ralph thought fast and made a sharp right turn before the crowd behind him could run up and block his sides. The pure euphoria they got from the hunt radiated from every single one of them. This let Ralph know that the outcome of his fate was evidently decided. 

Jack's group had won him over successfully. They would soon take his life, and they would so without a drop of sympathy; the innocence was wiped like a clean slate. The platonic bonds that he once had with all of them - once assumed to be unbreakable - were now crushed into pieces.

The realization put his brain through a hydraulic press. Everything the hunters once cared for were now irrelevant. Remorse was a figment of the past.

By random chance, something makes Ralph stop dead in his tracks as he wound up in a smokey clearing. What he saw rendered him speechless. Towering on a six foot pole, was a face. Why, it was merely a pig's head, grinning widely at his misfortune. The thing had been the pinnacle of the end of their innocence, the source of the islands despair.

What the hell is this? He thought, balling his fists. Some kind of shrine? Did Jack and his hunters seriously drop in front of it for worship? Left as nothing but a white skull after multiple stages of decay, Ralph lashes out on the head in a fury that he hadn't thought his mind would ever be capable of holding. He unleashed every bit of anger he'd ever known... every frustration as he beat the pole down to hit the ground. On impact, the skull shattered after enduring so many hits... shattering just as every thing else did.

"Kill the beast, cut his throat, spill his blood!"

Ralph's head snapped in the direction of the sound. "Kill the beast, bash his head, do em in!" Overwhelmed, all he knew was to dart out of the clearing. Sadly, he never even got to take that small chance for a breather.

But-- Veronica. Where is she? Ralph thought. Unaware of her fate, he obliviously scanned the flashes of dark green as he passed by, hoping to catch a glimpse of the black blazer and blue skirt. A thicket of thorns stood in his path just a few yards ahead -- roaring flames barricades every exit around the nature's wall. Mustering up his strength, Ralph launches himself through the thicket, receiving cuts and lacerations carved in his tan skin.

Despite the horrific obstacle, hunters tore straight through it with little to no effort. Choking on the smoke, he dove over a small drop off head first and into another bush. But with no time, he was unable to stop. He had to keep going.

It's so dark. How the hell would he even be able to know where he was? Then he saw it. Blue brightness glimmers through some far away trees, peek-a-booing through the fire. The beach. Maybe not the most practical place to go -- being that he'd be out in the open, but hell, there's nowhere else. Nothing left to do. Everything around him glowed red and orange. In a crackling hum, the sound of leaves being eaten by the flames crunched in Ralph's ears.

Before he knew it, Ralph tumbled onto the beach and did another head first dive to get away from a crashing tree. The hunters are on his tail, he's gonna die right here on the beach. This is it. Rolling through the golden sand, the ground was tainted with dashes of red as his skin scraped on the rough surface. Fuck. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ralph braces for the stabbing of the spears. I'm sorry, Veronica... wherever you are. He thinks loudly.

Rocking back and forth, it took him a minute to snap out of his hysteria to notice the helicopter sounds. Cracking his eyes open, white light blinded him in a flash -- Ralph sucks in an involuntary gasp and blinks to adjust to the sun rays. As his vision renders like a bunch of forming puzzle pieces, a pair of human legs apparate in front of him.

It's gotta be fake. Panning his eyes up, there stood an officer of the Marine Corps in a camouflage uniform with a perplexed expression twisted on his face. Shouts from the hunters continued behind him, but slowly died down. The officer looked up at the painted savages as the chanting fully dwindled. They all crowded behind Ralph with their spears, jaws dropped.

An adult man. A real one! It's like God answered the former chief's prayers in the best way possible. He had to breathe slowly to make sure that the figure he just processed wasn't a figment of his imagination -- not a façade to distract him from death. Nope, it's truly real. Not a peep came from any of the hunters nor Ralph.

"What're you guys doin'...?" The man asked in awe, taking in the scene before him. They looked ragged compared to the pristine man who tried to understand it all.

"Are you havin' a war, a' some sort?" He laughed worriedly, not sure what to expect as an answer. 

Straining his throat, Ralph answers meekly, "th--there... there were three more."

Arching a brow, the officer pushes his questioning. 

"No one killed?"

That's it, that's what pushed Ralph to soft cries. He tried to gulp hard and find an answer, but he couldn't even get the right words to form. Sam stood in the crowd, ashamed, and began to cry. The twin dropped to a knee with a wail that moseyed through the still-standing bodies. Tony and Robert rushed over to hold him up, awkwardly standing in silence. Watching in horror, the officer muttered some words into a radio with codes that Ralph didn't even try to focus on.

Off in the woods, Jack trudged in a state of shock. The blonde would be a sobbing mess one moment, then fall into total silence. He'd reminisce every memory of Veronica... Even though she wouldn't be able to speak with him, he proceeded to recount old events outloud. Maybe somewhere, where ever she was, she would be able to hear the things he wanted to say.

"Remember how much you hated me when we first met? Look at us now."

"I thought about taking one of your rings and hiding it for a day, but I figured not to."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry that I would even think to kill another one of your friends. I was so caught up-- and I'm sorry. It was an accident."

On and off, he would find himself muttering madness here and there. Jack practically blinked, and he found himself of the beach. Even he paused in shock at the Marine Corps officer.

Looking at Ralph, Sam, and his hunters all standing around graceless... it all finally hits him. With a gasp, Jack lets out another sob, and his hold on Veronica's cold body tightens ever so slightly. This catches the attention of the officer, and when the man glances off to the side- it triggered a domino effect for every one to look at him.

Poor Ralph. At the first glimpse of her limp form dangling in Jack's arms, he crumbled. A huge sensation of his gut falling made him want to puke as he has to witness the dead body of his recent best friend. Then he saw the blood. Seeing this, he decided he had never wanted to kill someone more -- that someone being Jack. Regardless of that, he didn't have the energy to deliver any punches -- nonetheless to even rise from the ground.

Ralph weeps with a grief so great, that spasms shook him through his core. In that moment, it seemed that the deepest sorrows he'd ever known in life picked away at his very being. The officer looked horrified and immediately signaled for the rest of the officers in the helicopter.

"We-- we saw your s-smoke..." He managed to stutter out. None of the words mattered, and they went unnoticed as cries rose from the children.

Ralph balled his fists in the sand as he repeated Veronica's name to himself, tears trailing down his cheeks.

Shaking his head, Jack can only manage to say, "I'm sorry," under his breath. Impressionable little ones began wailing noisily, and the slightly older ones that already knew what happened joined in.

Jack felt himself growing weaker by the second as pure exhaustion tried to claim him. Feeling like he was sinking further and further into quick sand, his legs turned wobbly, and his arms began to slacken. In the nick of time, officers came over with a sort of portable, folding stretcher. Oh- a spinal board is what it's called. 

They gathered her body from Jack before he would be able to drop her, and carried her a few yards away. The uniform paramedics immediately got to work. Jack could hardly see her as she was now surrounded by the officers. Do something. One of them began prodding at her, another one with the spinal board stretcher at ready. Jack held his breath as he watched, silently begging. Only a few moments go by when one of the medical team members shook their head. 

Veronica was pronounced dead at the scene.

The boys were able to watch it unfold as the man before them continued to ask questions. A loud sound braced the air as the the paramedics zipped the deceased girl in a narrow body bag, cocooning her.

Realizing what just happened, Jack darts forward, screaming for Veronica, and to bring her back. The officer grabs him to hold him back from the body. Jack only thrashed wildly, wailing nonsense. He's strong, but the officer was luckily stronger and capable of restraining him.

"It's alright, kid. Just leave it, it's gonna be fine." Jack shook harder, struggling against the restricting arms that belted around his own frame. 

"No! No! You don't understand," he grunts, not controlling his tears.

"I didn't mean to, please! It was an accident, just please bring her back... please." His voice breaks as he cried. "It was an accident, I didn't know..."

The man attempts to console him, muttering small words here and there, but it was no use. Finally, Jack collapses as his knees seem to fully give out under the weight of stress. The officer lowered him down carefully.

Multiple helicopters dotted the sky, and hovered before landing on the sand. When a new officer approaches, she kept a bit more distance.

"How many more dead ones are there?"

Ralph wishes she could have been more sensitive with the obvious displays of grief being Jack and Sam. Hell, even himself.

"My brother." Sam spat bitterly. Eric and Benson were the only bodies that had actually been buried. How does someone explain that? Robert was next to speak up softly. 

"A-And three others."

"Three?" The officer repeats, appalled by the number. That's five total. How in the world do you get that many? Jack choked up another sob, and most boys eventually cave. All expect for Roger.

Flustered, the officer steps away, feeling awkward by the soft cries clashing with the sounds of beating helicopters. They all wept. Sam cried for the loss of his best friend, his other half. Jack wept for the accidental murders, and his useless feelings for a memory of a person. And finally, Ralph wept for Simon, resulting in the loss of innocence, and the fall through the air of a true, wise friend called Piggy.