"It was an accident! It wasn't… that thing you said. It wasn't."

Piggy's word still echoed in my ear: It wasn't! It wasn't! But it was. It was, Piggy. It was murder. And we both knew it. I knew and now… now you know it too. But you knew it then too, didn't you? Didn't you, Piggy? You just… you couldn't admit it. You couldn't admit that they, that Jack, couldn't be reasoned with. That we were becoming… Well, can't deny it now, can ya, Piggy?

I waited for the tears to return, but they didn't. I cried them out the past two days. I buried my head into the pillow, feeling the itchy, cheap fabric press against my face. I could feel the boat bobbing up and down, rocking, like a mother rocking her child to sleep. I tried to focus on the songs my own mother once sang to me, as though I was finally home. As though I were merely a child. As though I had never left. It didn't work though. Try as I might, I could not push away the events of the island. My mind returned to them, relishing each and every moment. Each tear, each scream. The fire, the smoke, even the conch. Even the stupid conch. My head hurt. That was what I told Samneric when they tried to pull me out of the tiny room the soldiers gave me, to bring me food. My head hurt, my stomach felt ill. Those were true. It's the ship. I'm seasick. That was the lie.

I turned my head to the side, examining the room for the millionth time. It was dim, well toward the bottom of the boat. The single sized bed took up a majority of it. A small window let in a bit of light on sunny days, but for the most part did very little. The walls were a dark wood varnish, the kind I had on my bedroom floor. I turned my face back into the scratchy fabric, squeezing my eyes tight. Maybe I can sleep, I thought. Maybe if I sleep…

"Are you still moping?" Jack's voice pierced the silence, yanking me from my thoughts. His lips bore a tiny grin as he leaned against the doorway. His red hair, like mine, had been cut short and washed since we were found. His clothes, made for a man, seemed to hang on him. But he looked normal at least. He looked the way he did before…

"C'mon," he said, his head nodding a bit out the door. "Let's go. It's time for supper."

I could feel my hands begin to shake as I stared at him from my bed. My jaw clamped down; I could not speak. How? How can he stand there now? After he… after we… After everything?

"You coming or not?" Jack asked again, taking small step into the room. "You've barley eaten. Are you not happy? We're going home!" His grin widened as he said this.

"How… How can you say that?" I finally whispered. "How when… when they're…"

"What are you going on about?" Jack laughed. He actually laughed. "You mean that? The island? It was a game!"

I felt my eyes widen when he said this. "A… a game?"

"Yes, a game!" Jack let out another laugh. "You didn't know? It was all just a game! Don't be such a sore loser!"

"What of Piggy?" I heard myself ask.

"Piggy? Oh, yes, poor Piggy. Well, we knew he wouldn't last, didn't we. Not with his ash-mar."

"And Simon. And the littluns."

Jack shrugged, starting to turn away. "We all lose sometimes. C'mon, they asked me to get you. If you don't want supper, that's fine with me."

"You killed them." I hadn't planned to say it. The words just slipped out. Jack stopped for a moment, as though memorized by the statement, as I was. He then turned around slowly, his face tinted red.

"No. I didn't," He told me. His voice was slower now, deeper. "It was a game."

"That's what you're telling yourself now? It was a game? All a bloody game?"

"It was." Jack's breath had sped up a bit as his eyes locked on me. "And Piggy lost. So did Simon. And so did you."

"You are a savage."

Suddenly, I felt a force whip me across my cheek. Jack now stood before me, his face completely red, his eyes wide. My head felt dazed as I reached for my stinging cheek, feeling the blood rush beneath the flesh. I began to laugh. "Are you gonna kill me now, too?" I asked, looking into Jack's dark eyes. "Like you did Piggy?"

Jack grabbed the collar of my shirt. Like Jack's, it hung on my thin body. I tried to wiggle out of it, but Jack seized my arm, shaking me a bit. "Look at me!" He demanded. "Look at me! Do I look like a savage to you?" Not now, but then. When you had painted your face. When you chased me with fire. "No! Because I'm not one! I'm English! I'm bloody English!" He shook me harder, his nails, finally filed down, dug into my arm through the cloth. I could feel the bruises being left on my skin; I could feel my neck going sore from being jerked back and forth. But I still felt the smile on my lips. "Take off that bloody grin!" Jack screamed. "I'm no savage! I'm English! And it was all an accident!"

I then felt my body stiffen in his grip. My smile faded. He released me then, letting me sink back on the tiny bed. "An accident?" I heard myself whisper.

"Yes," Jack's voice was faded a bit, softer. "An accident."

My hands were shaking again. When did that begin? I clasped them together, trying to stop them, but they wouldn't obey. "You know, Piggy said that, too." I looked up, searching for Jack's eyes. He turned away though, looking out the tiny window. It was dark, but the sky was clear. The stars were bright, much like the first night on our island. I wonder if that was what he is thinking of. I continued. "He said that. Now he's dead."

I waited for Jack's response, but he keeped to his window. "He's dead. And Simon's dead. And that littlun. Do you remember him, Jack?"

No answer.

"Do you remember any of them? Or were they all just play things to you? All part of your bloody game? Well, guess what, Jack, it wasn't a game." I could feel my voice getting louder. I could feel the shakes move to my whole body, my legs, my spine. I wanted to stop, but I couldn't. "Lives. Those were real lives. Those were people, Jack. Piggy, he tried so damn hard to defend you, you know that? You and your bloody 'tribe!' Simon, too! They worked so hard to pretend you weren't—" I was cut off by a hiccup. I could feel the tears pressing against the back of my eyes, threatening to fall. I squeezed them shut. I would not cry in front of him, not now. My body was still trembling. My knees, I wobbled, but quickly caught my balance. I opened my eyes again, finally meeting Jack's.

"It was you!" I heard the words leave my lips, but it was not I who said them. No, it was someone else. It was Piggy, and Simon, and that littlun who was taken on the first few nights, and it was every boy Jack whipped and beat and punished. "You were the beast! You are the beast! A beast and a savage!"

"Well, so are you, then!" The booming voice silenced my own as he gave me a harsh shove. "Don't you stand here and pretend there is no blood on your hands! Simon was your fault, too! And that Littlun, I didn't see you searching for him! And Piggy—"

"Yes, what of Piggy!" I could not muster up the strength to shout as loudly as I once did. Jack looked at me for a moment, his jaw clenched. Then his gaze fell upon the floor.

"Piggy… Piggy wasn't me. It was Rodger."

"Under your watch! And by your command! Right? You told him to, didn't you? And you were going to kill me, too! Kill, kill, kill! Kill to get your way, kill those who stand in front of it! Is that what you will do when we return, Jack? Kill some more?"

Jack opened his mouth, as if to yell, but I did not allow it. I could feel the tears, they were about to fall. I couldn't stop them. My voice was starting to shake. I turned my face so he wouldn't see. "And another thing, when we home... will you be punished for anything? For Simon or Piggy? No! What justice do they get? None! You went and killed them! You're a beast! And I… I…"

I felt my legs give out beneath me. My body pressed against the wall behind me. It felt cool beneath my shirt as I slid down it, my head falling into my knees. The cloth was itchy against my forehead, my back. Just like the pillow. I want my own pillow and my own clothes. My face felt red and hot.

I didn't care anymore. The tears were pouring from my eyes and I didn't care. I want to go home. I want Piggy to go home. I want Simon. I want my dad. I want none of this to happened. I didn't even hear my sobs shuttering through the room. I didn't hear Jack walk up to me. He reached his arm out, as though to grab my shoulder, but then pulled back and simply stared at the small, skinny, British boy wailing into his knees. He turned back to the window and watched the stars breaking through the night. The same stars we watched that first night.

We stood like this for a moment. Me, crying into the too big clothes, he, pretending to be somewhere else. I pretended I was somewhere else too. I buried my face into the too big, itchy clothes and pretend they were my father's. I am crying into his uniform, dark blue, sitting on his lap and he is holding me because I just had a bad dream. That's all it is, just a bad dream. I'm in my room with all my books and toys and games, crying to my father. Like a normal child.

"Here," I am pulled from my father's arms, back into the dull room, back onto the ship. I look up and see a pair of specs being shoved in my face. One lens is shattered, pieces of the glass falling out. The other lens is dirty, covered in finger prints. The rims have been bent. I reach out, but before I could grab them, Jack throws them onto my lap, rushing out of the room.

As he walked through the door, I could have sworn I heard a hiccup mixed with the faint whisper of "I'm sorry."