10 Crowhaven Avenue
London, England
November 5, 1955
Simon
The Island
Dear Simon,
I keep having flashbacks. All I can ever think about anymore is the island, and all the heinous things that happened there. That I participated in. I remember that boar I stabbed and how I likedit. No, I didn't just like it, Simon, I loved it. I loved hurting that poor defenseless animal. I remember feeling "full of fright and apprehension and pride." How could I have felt proud of that? How did killing a defenseless animal make me believe that "hunting was good after all?" Now, fifteen years later, I cannot even imagine how being able to "fling the foolish wooden stick that I carried" into the boar's "great snout" could ever make me "excited." And then of course there was the most dastardly deed of all. You.
How could we have killed you, Simon? When you were so humane and so altruistic and just so good. How did we "leap on to you, scream, strike, bite, tear" until you "fell over the steep edge of the rock to the sand by the water?" But you knew you were going to die, didn't you? You knew that we would kill you. Is that why you told me "I think you'll get back all right?" Did you know then that we would become complete savages and…and…. Even now, I cannot make myself say the words even though I know I must. I killed you, Simon. I "screamed, struck, bit, tore" until you were dead, floating away past the horizon. Out of all of us, you ought to have been the one to survive. You were the only one who never became savage or even close. I bet you even knew that we were the beast, didn't you? You probably knew everything. And we murdered you like you were the beast.
Out of everything that happened on the island, your death has affected me the most. Not just your death, but how I participated in the act. How bloodthirsty I was. It makes me think that if I was that lustful for blood, how awful and sadistic were Jack and the others? I haven't seen any of them since we landed fifteen years ago. The officers who found us brought us back to England and made sure we were under care of doctors until we were healthy. When my father came to pick me up, I cried, Simon. I could not think of anything except how I had killed and enjoyed it. How it gave me something like an adrenaline rush. I felt shame that my father had to see me and find out that his son had become so savage and was full of inherent evil. If I learned anything from being on the island, it was that all men are born with an evil side. Sometimes it never takes precedence in one's life, but it is always there. It never occurred to you that you had that evil, did it? You were just that much better than it unlike the rest of us.
Simon, I know you will never read this. I wish you could, because I want to tell you that I am so so so sorry that I killed you. I am horrified by my actions, and even to this day I am haunted by the consequences. I just…I needed to get my emotions out somewhere, even if it is on a piece of paper to no one in particular. I must stop soon though and throw this letter away, for if my wife sees me writing this she will most likely send me to another mental institution, and I could not handle the bare white walls and the constant injections again. Most of all, being away from my baby girl, Mary, pains me to the core. I don't want her to know of all the evil I have committed, Simon. I hope and pray that she will never find out, but deep down I know that the truth will come out. I wish I could all just take it back, but it's not something that can just go away. I will live with this pain my entire life, and I cannot make it go away. I just wish I could.
Simon, I'm sorry that you will never see another day in London. I'm sorry that you will never be able to meet that special someone and fall in love and get married. I'm sorry that you will never have the joy of being a father. I'm sorry that this is all my fault.
I am sorry.
Sincerely,
Ralph
