It was the first night since the plane crash. Everybody was walking around in haze. I was sitting by myself by the ocean. The waves were washing against the beach, the steady thrumming of the water soothing. I was trying to keep my mind off of what had happened. After how close I had come to death. Trying to keep my mind off the fact that people were dead, and the people who are alive are stranded.
I laid back in the sand looking up at the sky, and took a deep breath trying to erase the panic and nausea when I heard soft footsteps behind me. A very pregnant woman, Claire, I think that was her name plopped, literally, down next to me.
"Hi, why aren't you by the fire?" She asked, all the while rubbing her stomach absentmindedly.
"I'm….I'm not cold." It was a lie.
"Oh." Claire looked over the ocean her eyes scanning the top of it, probably looking for a boat. After a few minutes she stopped. "Well, if you're hungry Hurley, the one with the very curly hair, he's passing out food."
I nodded and then she left. I wasn't hungry, I'd been sick to my stomach for the last few weeks, and today was no exception. I turned and looked over my shoulder and saw the survivors huddled together around the fire. Together. It was better that I was alone, that I didn't rely on anyone. I didn't deserve to trust anyone.
Not after what I'd done.