The Lost Ones

Chapter 9

The fire went out.

Kit stood in darkness, his soaking clothes quietly dripping water onto the floor. As he listened to the howling wind and screaming thunder outside, he clenched his fist over the rosary around his neck.

Violently, he booted the twigs at his feet and the firewood went flying across the cave.

"I thought she understood," he muttered, grinding his teeth. His damp, cold t-shirt was clinging to his skin, making him shudder even more. He was enraged at Skye, but he was even more furious at himself. It was my fault for kissing her first. It felt right at the moment. But...

"Damn it." Kit crouched to his knees, pushing back the sides of his wet hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He tried to slow his breathing. Please forgive me. For giving in. For hurting Skye.

Skye. She had been gone for more than ten minutes. Kit thought she had gone to the shore since she told him that she found the roughness of the waves calming. But it was too dangerous to be near the water at this time. If she got struck by lightning or caught on fire, she would most likely blame him.

Not wanting to be held responsible for her injuries or even her death, Kit got back on his feet. His was already soaking wet. He figured going out in the rain again wouldn't hurt. He wasn't so sure about the lightning.

The rain was merciless and the wind, even more vicious. Kit could barely make out the shore. He looked in every direction, hoping to see Skye glumly sitting at the edge of the water, throwing handfuls of sand at the waves. He even called for her.

"Skye!" he shouted as loud as he could. "I'm sorry, okay? Just come back, please!"

There was no response.

Kit called out again, but he was beginning to realize he couldn't even hear his own screams. They were being drowned out by the screams of the horrendous weather.

He ran to check the grassy area behind the cave, which had become soggy mud as the rain made contact with the dirt. He almost slipped several times and, when a flash of lightning struck, a coconut tree nearly toppled over him.

Where could she be? If she wasn't near the shore or the grasslands, the only other place she could be was somewhere on the upper level of the island. That meant she had climbed the death-like, oversized stairs just to get away from Kit. And Kit had to do the same thing.

He trudged through the mud, darted through the stony path, and reached the flight of stacked rocks. It looked even more lethal than it usually did. The black stone shimmered as rain spilled down from its ledges. Kit placed his hand on the wall of the first step. It was slippery.

How in the world could Skye climb this? He was about to turn back. But there was nowhere else Skye would have gone. If she wanted to run away from him, she would most likely use that tight, one-person cave she found as her hiding spot. Even so, she would still have to climb these stairs.

Taking a step back, he leaped as high as he could and grabbed the top of the bottom stair. He used all his strength to pull himself over. If she can do it, so can I!

By the time he reached the fourth step, he was worn out. When he tried jumping onto the fifth step, he lost his grip and painfully landed on his back.

Out of breath and strength, he wanted to give up and die right there. He looked at the bruises on the palms of his hand and fought back his tears, biting down hard on his cheeks. Like he always did after he took a beating from Father Roman.

If I was able to get through that, I should be able to get through this. I have to. Because he had a choice, like he had a choice back then. He could either find the will to keep on living or he could give up and die. Though he might have died inside each time the former priest he was forced to call dad ignored his childish pleads for attention, yelled at his mom for not raising her son properly, and lashed at him with a belt for every major and trivial sin he committed, Kit was not completely broken. He was still breathing. He had a chance to live, a chance his friends never had.

Rin. Chris. Alessandro. Kit's heart ached as he imagined their death. He only wished that their suffering had been less painful than his right now. They didn't have the same choice he had. It wasn't their choice to die. And if that was Kit's choice now, everything in his world was meaningless. He had to keep going, for his friends. And for his dad, even if it had been his own choice to die.

Kit buried his hand in his pocket, clutching the gold watch of Chris. It was still with him. Just like his friends were.

And Skye. He felt the rosary around his neck. Although she was probably boiling mad right now, throwing all sorts of things in every direction, he could still hear her usual jovial laugh— even if most of her snickers were directed at him.

He moved his hand to his heart, the place he told Skye where his dad was. His real dad. He was with Kit too, as if he never left.

Kit felt for his cross necklace and held it in his hand. Even if God refused to give him the strength to keep living, he had other people that he loved to give him courage.

With all his might, Kit fought against the rain and the wind and his weariness. He raised himself from the ground and, before he lost all the tenacity he had built up, he made his way up the rest of the demonic, superfluously over-sized stairs.

When he finally reached the top, Kit saw that the raft was gone. In its place were several footsteps leading into the lake, which was now emitting a strange green glow.

"Oh no..." Kit shook his head in anguish. She's done it now. Skye had taken the raft, the same one they had built together, the one they had planned to ride across the lake together, and ventured off into the unknown by herself. He couldn't even see the ruins he had spotted earlier because of the thick mist that blocked his view.

He felt a sudden loneliness. If something happened to Skye, if she died trying to run away from him and all the hurt he had inflicted onto her, he would be the only one left on the island. A few days ago, he would have taken that opportunity the second he realized she wasn't coming back. But things were different now. He had to make sure she stayed alive.

Taking a deep breath, Kit drew near the edge of the radiating lake. He hadn't been able to swim across before since the temperature was too high for them to withstand—that was why they had built the raft.

But there was no other way across. And having shivered in the cold rain for much too long, swimming in boiling hot water didn't seem like such a bad idea.

After making a prolonged sign of the cross, Kit dove into the lake.