Ralph's pen tapped against his temple thoughtfully. He was a few years older now, and his experience on the island had emotionally scarred him so deep that it was only now that he was trying to confront what had really happened. He was writing a letter to attempt to apologize to Jack, but his old enemy's name was all that was scrawled on the paper so far.
How did one go about bringing up such a horrible incident to someone that he hadn't talked to in years? Ralph was in one of his thinking moments. What had made him different from Jack? He thought about this, lowering his pen to the table and letting it rest there. They had been the same age, give or take a few months, and they were both physically capable of what Jack had done. So what had stopped Ralph from becoming a savage animal?
He thought about this very seriously now. He and Jack both loved power. He and Jack both wanted to be the leader. They both wanted people to look up to them. But there was something different about them that Ralph wished he could put his finger on to prove that he and Jack were very, very different.
They had both been on this Earth for the same time, and therefore had both built up the same rules that had been enforced by authority and restricted them from hurting others, or stripping whenever they felt like it. Was it true that, when left alone from rules for long enough, those restrictions would disappear?
For the first time in a few weeks, Ralph thought about Piggy. "Sucks to your auntie," he muttered to himself, feeling a strange wave of guilt rush through him at the memory. Piggy had restrictions from his civilized life set out by his aunt, but his aunt hadn't even been on the island for even a moment. She had controlled his life nonetheless. Was that why Piggy was the one who made sense? Ralph narrowed his eyes at the paper and tried to avoid thinking about Piggy anymore.
Back on topic, he reminded himself. Jack had always been angry, he remembered. From the time he met him, to the last time he saw him, not bothering to say any goodbye. Jack had always been angry. He had wanted to hurt people. Well, he got what he wanted, Ralph thought to himself. Was that the only difference?
He shivered and looked back to the paper. Jack's name was still written at the top of it, and the rest was still blank. He grabbed the paper and crumpled it up in his fist, tossing it into a bin against the wall.
Maybe he would write to Jack Merridew some other time.