The Lady and the Flies

Chapter 11

Hey lovelies! My exams are done! So expect a lot more chapters coming soon! Also listen to "battle scars" by Paradise Fears. (Trust me it makes it a whole lot better)

Trigger warning : Self harm

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I'll carry you home
No you're not alone
Keep marching on
Your worth fighting for
We've all got battle scars

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Another day gone by on this damn island. This god damn island. Ralph spat into the sand, trying to rid the taste of an overly ripe fruit. Pointless assemblies where no one listens, beasts that were definitely not real, and not to mention no civilization. But in the thick of it all, there was her. Clare. She gave him hope, she somehow reassured him that rescue was reachable, she was his light in the dark. He cracked a half smile. How her lips were captured in his and how his hand fit to the bend of her waist, it was his escape. His only escape from this..... this hell. Where was she anyways? She usually slept a few feet from him.

The blonde sat up slowly, his sleepy eyes adjusting to the daylight. He stretched his aching arms, sleeping on the ground was truly uncomfortable. His skin was peeling, probably from his countless sunburns and mosquito bites. His legs were scratched from the creepers, dried blood becoming a usual sight for him. His blue eyes blinked, the sun was blinding. Ralph guessed he was lucky though, he wasn't nearly as bad as Clare. From what he had remembered from yesterday, she had bruises all along her neck and arms. Ralph's faced paled as he realized what they were, hickeys. He shuddered, and not from the cold air blowing off the ocean. His eyes swept over the kids scattered on the dunes. There was no sign of her, or Jack for that matter. Or Roger...... His heart pounded in his chest rapidly. Had they both come to attack her? Ralph chewed on his thumb, a nasty habit he did whenever he was nervous. He had to save her, he had to.

His brow furrowed in frustration. Where could they be? They could easily hurt him too, all way out there in the jungle. Then Jack would be chief and all hell would break lose. Ralph looked down at his arms and thought that they looked scrawny and weak. He sighed, hating his low self esteem. The bullying at school didn't help either, for he was more into art than rugby, but he guessed people thought boys shouldn't paint.

His thumb circled the scars on his wrist briefly, but flicked it away immediately. Those scars made him ashamed, or maybe even afraid, of what he did to himself, and what he could still do.
Ralph got up, swaying slightly. He quickly made his way into the jungle.

XXXXX

Ralph crashed through the thick brush, and came to the bathing pools. He sat down at the edge, exhausted. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He brushed the sweat from his eyes and tried to calm his breathing down. His toes dipped into the cool water, and he sighed at the small pleasure. He cupped some water into his hands and brushed it into his hair. There, he felt somewhat awake. A loud splash echoed off the stone wall of the pool, and Ralph looked up in a fright.

Roger was sitting eerily at the other end.

"Bloody hell mate, you scared me!" Ralph said, his voice having a note of anger. Roger stood up slowly and walked over to Ralph, his feet didn't make a single noise. Ralph felt panic bubble up inside him. When Roger got to his side, he towered over him. Then he spoke, his voice a low, scratchy whisper.

"Listen here, chief," He said, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. "Let's get one thing straight, alright? I'm not your mate or pal, and quite frankly, I'm this close to drowning you in one of these bathing pools, so I would get the hell out of here."