The cutter docked in a harbor.
Jack didn't know where, but it looked like home.
The war was still going on, but for some reason, the land seemed more welcoming then ever before.
As the final knot tied the boat to the pier, the boys ran towards the front of the boat.
A small crowd of about ten or fifteen people was waving at the boat, some of them jumping up and down, and lots of crying adults.
Jack didn't see his family.
All of the boys were screaming and yelling and waving back at their loved ones. It was hard for him to think over all of the din.
Think.
Something he hadn't quite thought about doing.
Thinking.
The captain of the boat yelled something very loudly and all of the boys quieted down.
"We alerted our Majors, who alerted each of your families that the people who had crashed, so you boys, were coming home."
Jack smiled.
Still, they weren't there.
The captain unlatched the small walkway that connected the boat from sea to land.
All of the boys ran over to their respective families.
Jack was the only one alone.
But then he noticed her.
She looked familiar— he had seen her before.
He was not the only one alone.
Jack walked over to the familiar woman, trying to remember who she was.
The woman seemed to notice him before he reached her, and she rushed over to him.
"Oh thank goodness. Have you seen my nephew?"
Jack stopped and thought for a moment.
"Your nephew?"
"Colin. Is he okay?"
She looked familiar...
Same eyes, same short, round disposition, same thin hair.
Piggy.
"Oh Pi-, erm, Colin." The woman noticed his face fall in regret.
"What's the matter?"
"I'm so sorry," said Jack, and he burst into tears. He hadn't thought, hadn't been able to, not there.
Not about what he had done.
Not about what, or who, he would have to face for it.
Jack lunged toward the woman and hugged her, something quite unlike him, but his parents weren't there and he was a murderer.
The woman nodded very slowly, as though processing the news, and held Jack as he cried off the remnants of the face paint that he wore a thousand lifetimes ago.
He cried and cried and he knew he was making a scene, but the boys had never seen him out of his costume before, and he deserved the embarrassment as they watched their leader break down. They deserved seeing him like this.
He finally pulled out of the hug and remembered what he held from his left hand.
He dangled the broken, mangled glasses in front of his face as though taking them in for the last time.
And he handed them to Piggy's aunt with and emotionless face.
"It was all my fault."