Chapter one

Past

Every single monotonous task I do reminds me of that damn island. Images are constantly flashing through my head, and I often find myself wanting to rip the flesh from my skull and tear my brain to a million slimy pieces.

How long were we gone on that island? Days, weeks, months? By the time they found us, we were pretty beat up; our piece of shit boat gave out a day and a half into our journey into the abyss of the empty ocean. We brought what little supplies we could muster from the cave and from the remnants of the doc's house, but it just wasn't enough to sustain anything longer than a few hours. When the ship finally found us, I was contemplating eating what was left of my left hand. But I had bigger issues to worry about.

I was completely alienated on the boat; mostly my doing. Everyone was there, but after what I did, I wouldn't call us best friends. Sure, I had rescued all of them from enslavement, abuse, even death, but I had changed on that godforsaken island; I got lost in the dark of the jungle. I was a shadow of my former self, just a primal being with no regard for the mortality of others or myself. All the anger I had, and much more I never realized I did, poured out of me. The floodgates of my own personal hell burst open, and I drowned not only myself, but the people I loved. I didn't want any of this. I had tried to kill my friends once, and I didn't want to try again. I didn't want to wake up with blood on my hands. I wanted my friends. I wanted my brother. I wanted liza.

So, alone? Alone was safe. I found what could be considered at the time a 'comfortable' spot near the bow of the boat. Liza and Grant sat glum on the port side while Oliver and Keith took starboard and Daisy assumed the role of captain up top. All of us were down there in the cabin of the boat, but we were part of two very different worlds. While they spoke of returning home, debriefing with authorities, and assuming any semblance of a normal life they could muster, all I could think about was the blood on my hands. All the loss, all the pain. All the anger. I began to ring what was left of my broken hands as a large pop came from the engine, and Daisy groaned and hastily made her way down to the cabin.

"Uh, guys? Don't freak out, but we may have a problem." Her voice was cool and calm to the others, but I could only detect the fear dripping from her words. Daisy waited for a reply, but was only met with a series of stares and empty mouths.

"I mean," she continued, trying to initiate even the tiniest reaction. "I just need someone's help. I can fix this… I know I can. I just. Need. Help." Her voice began to drip with irritation. We were all exhausted and beaten and broken. I'm actually surprised we were all still conscious at the time. The cabins inhabitants attempted to search for words, but none were found. Just when I though no one would speak up, Liza's voice resounded through the cabin.

"Sorry, Daisy. We're all just still shaken up." She was trembling slightly. Was she cold? It made me miss her warmth. "I'll be glad to help."

"No," I quickly blurted. Where the hell did that come from? I'm trying not to kill anyone on this damn boat, and here I am volunteering to help the only goddamn person who knows how to successfully operate it. My subconscious was seriously fucking me over.

Heads turned, eyes widened. The only sound left in the salty air was that of the waves gently crashing against the bow. Liza opened her mouth to speak, a pained look of longing on her face.

"Jason..." her voice trailed off, my name warm on her tongue. I couldn't take it.

"I helped fix the boat the first time, and with the exception of Daisy, no one knows anything about 'em." I took my best shot at making my subconscious vomit sound reasonable. All eyes were on me. "So, basically, I'm an expert." I tried to kid. If I wanted to rid myself of the blood on my hands, I needed to wash them in the warm waters of my past reality. I needed to make good out of my shifty situation. Realizing I was making a joke, the tension in the cabin lessened, and I saw a hint of a smile spread across Liza's face. Daisy smiled uneasily, nodded, and made her way back to the top deck. I followed her up as quickly as I could. Outside, the humid air mixed with the intense sun had me instantly sweating.

"So what's the problem?" I tried to ask as innocently as possible as I stood next to her.

Please fix this, please fix this.

I guess I volunteered so Liza could stay safe, but I didn't want all of it to be in vain. I could lose my grip on everything in an instant. The sun was setting, so whatever we needed to do, it needed to happen fast. I asked Daisy what the issue was, and she peered up at me from behind the motor slot. She looked panicked.

"Jason," she began, but I already knew what was coming. "I can't fix this. Not here. Shit shit... shit. Fuck." She was angry now, and she continued a steady stream of profanities in a hushed tone as she drew her attention back to the motor. I could tell she was disappointed in herself; disappointed in her plan. After all, it was her idea to take the boat off the island.

"Daisy," I started, my voice cool and calm. A piece of my old self was finally shining through. "Its okay, it's okay. You couldn't have known this was going to happen." And its true, you know. She gave us the best option of escape.

"Your plan was great. We couldn't trust anyone on that island. This was the best route." I gently rested my hands on her shoulders, taking caution as to not let the nub that was my ring finger touch her. "You did great."

Comfort. That was a start.

Daisy sighed as her shoulders slumped. She turned her head towards me, catching for the first time an up close and personal glimpse of my tatau. She stiffened at first, as if remembering what I had turned into on the island. She began to pull away slightly, but at once decided to instead run her hand over flesh and ink.

"These are really beautiful," she noted in a hushed tone. "I know it's a dumb question, but…" her voice paused for a moment.

"Yeah," I said, already anticipating the question. "Uh, not really. That was honestly the last thing on my mind in that moment. That, and I often passed out before receiving them." It almost felt good to talk about. I had been scared to speak of any of my scars and adornments from the island, but maybe I should talk more; get it all out in the open and go from there

I decided that was the best plan of action, and I would continue the conversation if Daisy chose to pursue other answers. I must have had a pained look on my face because Daisy sighed and stepped away, as if preparing for an unexpected attack. Hell, I don't blame her. Just two days ago I was ready to slit her throat along with everyone else on the boat.

Suddenly, Daisy looked me dead in the eye. "I miss Grant, and I know you do to. I'm so sorry." I was taken by surprise by her sudden turn in conversation. I took a deep breath of the humid air and licked my salty lips.

"I… I know. I'm sorry too." It was all I could muster. I felt so much anger rising up inside me. Suddenly, I was transported back to the slave camp, my fingers digging in and covering the wound in Grant's neck as he convulsed beneath me. His eyes looked up at me as they slowly developed a glossy sheen. He opened his mouth to talk, but all that came out was a scream.

YOU DID THIS.

Snap.

I'm back to reality. Daisy had taken a few steps back and was calling for Keith to come topside. My face had taken on a ghost-like appearance, and I was squeezing my hands so tight that the bandage covering my mutilated finger took on a deep red hue. All the anger I thought I had left on the island had suddenly made a violent appearance, and I found myself wanting to resurrect Hoyt and Vass only for the sole purpose of being able to kill them once more.

"Keith!" Daisy was shouting now, her tone becoming increasingly more panicked.

Keith urgently poked his head out from the cabin, took one look at my dazed stupor, and jumped out towards Daisy. All the sound started to drown out as I pictured the faces of Hoyt and Vaas, and I replayed their deaths over and over again in my head.

Keith's mouth was moving, but I couldn't make any sense of the words falling from it. He had maneuvered his body in front of Daisy, creating a protective wall in the case I decided to explode. His left hand gently touched Daisy's wrist while his right grasped a standard army issue knife we had taken, along with many other weapons, from the island. He was smart to bring protection. Even I didn't know what I would do in the state I was in.

"I am a Rakyat," I explained in a hushed voice. "I am a Rakyat." I said it again, slightly louder. I kept repeating is over and over again until I was shouting.

"I am the Raykat," I screamed, "I killed those motherfuckers and I would do it again." I inched my way closer to Daisy and Keith, picturing instead the two horribly deformed faces of Hoyt and Vaas. "I will fucking kill you." I ran my hand to my back and grabbed the knife stuck in my waistband. I whipped it forward and took another step closer.

Keith took on a more defensive stance, but fear had filled his eyes. "Jason, man," he pleaded, "what are you doing? We're your friends!" His voice cracked under his scared demeanor as his knife hand shook. Daisy had tears welled up in her eyes.

I was ready to break. I took a full step toward Keith and began to thrust my knife forward, once again remember my brother's trembling body. I was inches away with connecting with Keith's unguarded throat when a warm presence halted me.

"Jason." It was a small but unyielding voice that rose from the left of Keith's position. Something inside my head clicked; a memory. A face, her face. Who is it?

Search. Keep searching.

Kill them.

Search, Jason. You know it.

My mind raced as the an internal debate rages on, and I searched though the red fog, desperately seeking a name.

Liza.

Liza.

Memories poured in. A kiss, slow and then fast. The warmth of tangled sheets. A soft breath on my neck. A smile so bright it used to melt my heart, and crystal eyes that would turn any winter warm.

Liza.

I stopped. The fog thinned and in front of me stood three scared people. Keith was still guarding Daisy, but Liza took a stance in front of them, closing what little distance stood between a blood bath. Her hand was reaching out toward my chest; her eyes red and glossy, but her stance firm.

"Jason," she said again as she took another step forward. Her hand connected with my chest and I was flooded with the reality of the scene in front of me. Where did I go? What have I turned in to? In that moment, I found myself no longer an angry and bloodthirsty killer, but a scared little boy. I released the muscles in my hand and the knife fell to the deck with a large clang.

What the fuck am I doing?

Liza inched towards me and raised her hands to cradle my face; taking caution to move slowly is if not to scare me. Her breath swept across my nose; such sweetness I had missed. I brought my eyes up until we were connected. Tears were now streaming down her face, but she remained planted in her position.

"It's okay," she whispered, "it's okay." I could feel my knees growing weaker as the sound of her voice flooded my mind. Unable to retain my stance, I began to slump to the floor. Liza continued holding my face as she sunk with me, pulling are bodies closer until I was encased in her presence. She was faintly shaking as she cradled my head and repeated "it's okay" over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she began to say. What was she apologizing for? This whole ordeal was my fault. I'm the one who wasn't ready to grow up. I'm the one who brought us to the island. I was the once who wanted to be adventurous, the one who wouldn't let her leave to go to her audition, the one who forced the skydiving trip. I'm the one who brought all the pain and misery to a group of people who were supposed to be my best friends. My actions led us here; enslavement, abuse, death. This was my fault, and I knew in that instant that talking and trying to rekindle any semblance of a normal life wasn't the answer. There was only one way to fix this.

"Get away." It was soft at first, and Liza gazed at me through her red stained eyes. Even when she was crying, she was beautiful. Oh God, was she beautiful.

She's only making this harder.

"Get… away!" I choked out, shoving myself from Liza's encasement and sliding towards the engine slot. I began to eye the knife, but kicked it away as I settled into my spot. Liza was full on crying now, and her shoulders heaved with every breath she attempted to take. I was breathing heavy, but my heart raced only from pain. I loved her. I loved her so much, and I never wanted to hurt her again.

"Stay away," I huffed. "I… I will hurt you. I will… and I don't want to." My voice was steady. "Please, just stay away."

Liza stared at me before bringing her limp hands to her face. She shook violently and let out another sob. As I watched her, I wanted to forget everything I had previously stated and comfort her, but my eyes fell upon her bloody and bruised wrists.

She was tied up and I was going to kill her.

I was going to slit the throat of the only woman I have ever loved. And for what, a life as a warrior? A life as a killer, living on an island that had brought nothing but pain? No. No, that's not me.

"Look at yourself Liza," I pleaded. "Look what I did to you!" She brought down her hands as Keith and Daisy moved in to form a protective line next to her. She began to touch rub her wrists slowly, shedding off specs of dried blood. Her hands slowly moved up to caress her neck, and she ran her fingers over a fresh scab. It stretched faintly across her neck and was jagged in appearance, like it had been done by a three year old. Her eyes shot to the knife that way sitting at her feet, then turned to meet mine.

"You know it's true," I whispered. "You know."

"Please just… just let me be," I continued. "I know you're in pain, and I know you're afraid, but I'm afraid of what I will do to you. I don't want to hurt you again." I was pleading sternly, getting angry with myself again. "Focus on yourself and leave me be. Until we get back to the mainland, we're not safe."

And with that, I turned away. Daisy sighed as she picked up Liza, wiped the salty tears from her face, and lead her back down to the cabin. As Liza descended, Oliver poked his head out, his eyes as red as the blood on my hands. But certainly this wasn't from crying.

"Dudeee," he choked out in his typical Oliver tone. "What the fuck is going on?" Keith walked over to Oliver's floating head and pushed him back down. "Goddamn it Oliver, you Bastard." There was a small hint of a smile in his speech. Even in the darkest of situations, Oliver's enjoyment of illicit drugs was undeniably hilarious. "Go back down, get some sleep. I'll explain later." Oliver glanced at me, shrugged, and started talking inaudibly as he sunk back down to his drug cave.

Keith at once regained a serious countenance. He tucked his knife into his pants and took his way in my direction, leaning down to pick up my knife but never once taking his eyes off me.

"Do I need to watch you? He stared at me like the child I knew I had become. I was drawing a blank.

You probably need to kill me.

He repeated his question with a demanding voice, and I finally shook my head.

"No."

With that, he gripped my knife and withdrew to the cabin with the others. It was now their safe house. I knew what the scene was down there. Daisy would be holding Liza, a job I no longer could have, and Grant would still be fast asleep. Of course, Oliver would be ignoring Keith's advice and badgering him about the events that unfolded.

And that's how it was.

Daisy explained to everyone that the boat was non-repairable, but that she was confident that we were close enough to the mainland that some sort of boat will meander by, whether it be a small fishing vessel or a barge on a trade route. Everyone hoped it would not be pirates.

So we sat there, waiting for help that we didn't know would come but hours later in the form of a diving vessel. We sat there just like we had when we first set of on our journey. We were all aboard the same boat, but we were part of two very different worlds.