Note: I'm am branching way out from my normal fics. This is seriously a challenge for me. We just read LotF in my honors english class and I found myself to be the only one to actually enjoy the book. It couldn't have been because the whole time I was screaming at Jack and Ralph to stop playing their little hating game and show everyone how they really love each other. I only had one problem with it, I always pictured the kids as being a lot older. Well... see you after the chapter...

Disclaimer: Unfortunately on your part you really can't sue me because I only have a really small T.V. and this computer. You won't get much from me, but just in case. I don't own any of this... LotF is solely the property of Mr. Golding. I must go cry now...

Chapter I: Return to Normalcy

"…I always wished that someday I would be acknowledged…To be someone for the others to look up to…I almost achieved my goal at one point…But to keep up with what I was doing would have eventually killed me too…What happened, I did not plan…What happened, I cannot change…The nightmares now come with feverish speed and consistency…From the looks of things I will go insane soon…Oh yes, insanity is most definitely a possibility…"

-Jack Merridew

Taking that first step into the English room was comparable to being punched in the stomach for Jack Merridew. Screaming kids and various flying objects were almost over stimulating, even for someone like him. The nervousness crept its way down his throat and into his abdomen, burning on the way down. He swallowed back a wave of nausea and took another tentative step into the room. Clearing his throat he was able to calm the class down long enough for them to acknowledge his presence, however unthreatening as it was, and the teacher turned to the door and smiled gently at him.

"Jack," the woman of about sixty said in a sweet voice, "how good it is to see you again. Please do take your seat, no one has sat there yet."

He nodded and made his way to the back of the classroom. If he was aware of every pair of curious eyes boring into his back, he showed no sign of it. He just simply took his usual seat in the back corner and stared ahead. He tried his hardest not to deter his attention else where, for he'd missed a lot over the past month and a half.

He almost couldn't believe the number himself. He would often catch himself whispering it in the dark. When he was sleeping in a bed and had nothing else to do but let his mind wander to places he would rather leave alone.

"Forty-two." He found he was getting into a sort of routine with this nasty habit. He whisper the number again, though this time it was a little louder. He blushed slightly when the person beside him turned to him.

Forty-two seemed to be a number that would permanently embed itself into his memory. Forty-two days was more accurate. Forty-two days. Forty-two days. Forty-two…

He couldn't bring himself to understand it. They had actually only been on the island for forty-two days. To him, it seemed a lot longer than those simple six weeks. He didn't know why, but there were a million questions he wanted answered now that he knew how long it had been.

How in the world did all that happen in that little time? Two had died, one had come home near that fate, and all innocence had been lost. Thinking back on it, the guilt was overwhelming. Nausea made itself well-known once again, and he laid his head on the desk.

Noting the way the class had reacted to seeing him, he imagined they knew all that had happened. It really didn't surprise him, word had always traveled quickly in this school. How could it not, when everyone not only had class, but lived within a one mile radius of each other. Of course he couldn't expect this to stay quiet. He was Jack Merridew, once labeled the most popular kid in school. He would be surprised if the drama department didn't create a play for the incident. One thought of him getting on stage to reenact what he had done on the island was enough to bring unwanted tears to his eyes.

He really didn't know how long he was sitting there with his head down until the bell signaled the end of a fifty-minute period. He rose slowly and, carrying his pack on one shoulder, filter into the hall with the rest of traffic.

He kept his head down for most of the walk to his next class, looking up only twice to watch out for some of the upperclassmen. The first time he was clear, but the second time his head came up he stopped dead in his tracks.

He felt his breathing grow quicker and more shallow. His head swam with this new sight that had appeared before him. Dark hair and skin that contrasted greatly with his own looked back at his with tortured brown eyes. The body was beaten, wounds pouring blood onto the clean school floor and being washed away with waves not much different than those on the island. Swirling around the double sharpened spear.

"The beast is out there, Jack." The vision said to him. It didn't move; it just looked up at him through long, tangled bangs.

"There's no beast." Jack warned. He knew something was really there, but wouldn't admit to it now. He tried his best to deny what he knew was true. That something really did exist, only a lot closer than any of them could have ever imagined.

"You knew." The vision said, its voice monotonous.

"It was an accident. An accident I tell you!" Jack was only vaguely aware that he was screaming. The children of the school had long since faded from his conscious mind.

"You'll never wash my blood from your hands."

Jack, with lack of better ideas on what to do, panicked. His vision blurred with tears and his knees gave out. He landed on the ground with a sickening crack. His head smacked against hard tile floor, and the last thing Jack saw was the menacing smile of the beast. The beast who remembered by the name of Simon.

Note: I just wanted to clear something up... in this story(or at least in my mind) the boys are really about fifteen or sixteen. I know that's not true in the book, but you know... if you want to still think of them as their ages in the book, then more power to you...