I made my way down a snow covered street. Waiting at a crosswalk, my mind started to wander. I thought of the client I had today; what an odd fellow he was. I couldn't help but focus on his habit of pushing up his glasses whenever he spoke. I glanced at the people around me all bundled up in their coats and scarves. I watched people casually window shop as they passed by stores on the street, and wondered what I should get my family members for Christmas. As I looked around, one individual caught my eye.
I would recognize that wretched blonde haired boy anywhere. Though I didn't expect to see him like this; he was sitting under a cardboard box. I decided to make my way over to him to confirm my suspicions.
"Hello, Jack." the man said to me as I approach him.
"Ralph" I almost whispered to myself.
I couldn't help but stare at him for a few seconds, wondering what had happened to him since our time together on the island.
"It's been so long," I said. I still had no idea what to say.
"Twenty years, not long enough," he replied bitterly. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about what you did to me. The nightmares still keep me lying awake, if the cold fails to do so."
"What happened to you?" I started to feel a little uneasy around him.
"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to have to remember."
I couldn't help but feel guilty about Ralph's condition. I was quite embarrassed about what the lust for power had done to me on the island. I had forgotten everything I had known and believed in; that we as a society need rules in order to function. To top it all off, I had traumatized several other children for the rest of their lives in the process.
"Ralph," I said meekly, "I feel that I should take responsibility for my actions." I tried my hardest not to stutter. "I want to help you. Until you can get back on your feet again, I insist that you stay with me instead of out in the streets." I had a very bad feeling about the decision I had just made.
He looked at me with caution; I could feel his eyes piercing my body up and down.
"No," he replied coldly. I felt a little bit of relief.
I wished I could change my route to and from home. Every day after that fateful meeting last week, I noticed him. I noticed him sitting there, he seemed to glare at me every time I passed by. I met with my client again since then. The man who constantly adjusted his glasses. He seemed sickeningly familiar.
Lately everything has been reminding me of the island. I've been having nightmares as well, just like Ralph. I told my therapist about this, along with our meeting, and she said that I wouldn't feel better until I cleared my conscience about him.
Once again, today, I approached Ralph.
He merely looked up at me, and didn't say a word. This time I decided to sit down next to him, instead of talking down to him.
"My offer still stands," I was barely able to say the words. Something about Ralph being in my house was a little off-putting.
"Why should I trust you?" He asked as he scowled at me.
"Ralph, twenty years have passed. Things are different now, we're not on the island." He seemed to cringe a little when I said the last word. I had to choke out my next sentence. "I-I'm sorry."
He paused a minute before answering.
"I accept." He looked at me before he extended a dirty hand, which I hesitated to shake.
I helped him up and walked with him to my house. He walked with a limp.
I had forgotten that hunting had remained a prominent hobby in my life, and that I had all of my prized kills hanging on the walls. Ralph nearly fell over when he walked inside. As soon as he got up, he ran to my refrigerator and mindlessly scarfed down as much food as he could. When he was finished eating, I showed him to his room, and received a door slammed in my face. He did all of this without saying a word.
As the days passed, Ralph never left his room except for eating and using the restroom. I had even given him clean clothes to change into as well, and he barely talked to me. Oftentimes I passed his door to hear muffled sobs.
I grew to hate him with a passion. At first it was merely his presence in my home that aggravated me, then his night terrors drove me over the edge. Almost every night, he would shriek "Sam! Eric! Sam! Eric! Piggy!" Eventually, my night terrors stopped, but only because there was no way I could possible sleep when he screamed like that, especially when he yelled "Jack! Stop!" then shrieked until he woke up.
I suggested that he go see a therapist to help him with his post traumatic stress, but he refused. Eventually, he stopped talking to me altogether. I wished that I had actually killed him on the island. I could have told him to leave, but I knew that if his screams didn't eat at me every night, my guilt would.
That guilt hadn't even fully gone away with him here, and his nightmares involving me didn't help either. I thought that maybe I didn't feel better because I took Ralph in to help myself instead of him.
I could not take it anymore. I could not deal with talking to the man with the glasses during the day and hearing Ralph at night. I thought that perhaps I could get rid of him myself, and end my suffering for good. Anything would be better than this. I thought that maybe I could poison him, for it would be easy with the way he eats. I thought that maybe I could press a pillow over his face one night while he's asleep. Several ideas swarmed in my head during the time he spent with me. I realized that I could do it. I could end him. I grabbed my pocket knife and clutched it firmly in my hand. I carried it with me all that day.
The smile never left my face during my walk home. Coincidentally, today was the last day I ever had to see the glasses man again. My pace started to quicken, and my smile grew larger. My phone then began ring.
It was a call from my house.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hello, Jack," it was Ralph's voice, as I expected. "I just wanted you to know how appreciative I am of you letting me stay here. I've prepared something for you to show my gratitude."
I was quiet for a second.
"I'm almost home," I said.
"Great, see you later." He hung up.
This changed nothing. My quickened pace turned into a sprint, and I gripped the knife in my pocket even tighter. I let out a small chuckle.
I fiddled with the keys for a while before I was able to open the lock, then I slammed the door open as I rushed in. The lights were turned off. I turned them on to see Ralph grinning next to the dining room table.
"I made dinner," he said.
A look of shock mixed with terror appeared on my face when I saw what was on the table.
Roast pig, and not only that.
It's head was missing.
I quickly lunged at Ralph with my knife and swung wildly. He dodged and started to run. I chased him throughout the house, running into anything that blocked my path. He no longer had a limp, and he was trailing a strange powder from behind him.
I finally cornered him as we returned to the dining room. I pushed him over, held him down by his legs, and kneeled over top of him. I smiled as I raised the knife over my head and prepared to slash down into his body. He smiled back as he took out a match, lit it, and dropped it.
The whole house was ignited and set ablaze. Ralph and I continued to struggle. I couldn't see through the smoke very well and stabbed downwards at random nevertheless. He was yelling something that I couldn't understand, and I yelled back at him. I no longer cared that I was going to die in the fire, as long as Ralph was going to die first, by my hand. He gripped onto my throat and I continued to stab him viciously. Through the flames, something caught my eye. I saw that the pig's head was nailed to the wall next to one of my hunting trophies.