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Soundtrack: Uninvited - Alanis Morsiette

Disclaimer: I am not yet William Golding. I do not yet own LotF. Maybe one day I will be.

Note: Nada.

Warnings (:D): (nothing too bad so don't get your knickers in a knot...still rated T...for now muahahahah) Creepy Roger, non-con kissing - Does that exist? Well it does here.

Flower in the Rain

"Like any uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing.

You speak of my love like you have experienced love like mine before.

But this is not allowed, you're uninvited."

Roger gazed out into the pink morning sky and frowned, eyes like two grey shimmering jewels in the sweet light of dawn. His dark hair, feathered with sand and stiff with seawater, fell coarse and wavy against the pale skin of his forehead. A bird twittered briefly from behind his shoulder, and a smile twitched upon the dark boy's lips. It wasn't that he found any of it beautiful; he rarely found anything beautiful. It was just deeply satiating - the way soft sand felt beneath his bare toes, a warm breeze threading through raven locks, the sound of waves crashing against a weakened shore - Everything about the island heightened emotions Roger thought he had long ago discarded of.

While everyone else slept, Roger was awake, blinded by glowing stars and a half-shadowed moon. But now, the sun finished playing hide-and-seek behind the night, and the blanket of darkness had been lifted. Darkness was like a mask to Roger, like the warm, tender arms of parents he never knew.

A breeze rustled his already tattered shirt. He had already disposed of that dreaded tie. It was always uncomfortably tight around his neck - a feeling that no boy was particularly fond of. Roger appraised this with slight apprehension; it was strange what a toll the island's sun could take on a person. Especially a person like Roger - dark, reclusive, batty Roger, as the boys at school liked to say.

Someone groaned in their sleep, and the dark haired boy instinctively looked over, amused at what he saw. The noise belonged to that...that...girl, the one who Jack continuously made crude jokes about.

Ah yes. Roger stared down upon her sleeping figure, watching as she unconsciously stretched her wounded leg. The only girl. Poor little bitch.

The boy stared for a while, trying his hardest to recall her name, but his mind was suddenly absorbed in the dark brown of her hair and delicate curves of her form. The only girl...Roger remembered a conversation with Jack from yesterday, a conversation that, strangely enough, originated from the subject of the fire. Jack was laughing about how the poor girl could hardly make it down the hill without stumbling over her own feet, and Roger had laughed along, only to please his leader. Jack had then stared at Roger for a moment, his icy blues eyes intent and dark, and with a sly smile, the redhead had spoke almost unforgettable words:

"She doesn't speak, that girl. She's a silent siren." Jack had then grinned - unforgiving and full of purpose- "She's just like you."

Roger heard the first of the boys wake, and with a curiously intrigued expression, he watched as the girl turned over again in her sleep.

"Just like me," he murmured, somehow convinced nobody could truly be just like him. Not really.

Louise wandered idly down the length of the beach, smiling slightly when the cool waves from the ocean kissed the tips of her sunburned feet. She felt better now, relaxed even, and the mutilated image of Gracie was reduced to only a nagging thought in the back of her mind. Her leg felt tremendously better, but her skin still burned with that strange sensation from Ralph's 'innocent' touch.

What was that?

Louise wasn't quite sure what had happened between her and Ralph that past evening. It was odd, and ever since, she hadn't been able to shake the distant feeling of his fingers upon her skin, tenderly mending and fixing her torn flesh. She could hardly see why Ralph would ignite such emotions within her anyway. It wasn't as if she liked him or anything. Louise snorted at the thought. She wasn't like those other girls back in England, the ones who left him cute little notes on his desk and cheered him on at every rugby match. Hell, Gracie used to even say that he could fill up half a stadium with his fangirls, all desperate to glimpse at Ralph Adler, the fullback on the rugby team, the most popular boy in grade nine.

Louise smiled grimly and stared out at the frothy white waves in stern confusion. Adler, Adler, Ralph Adler - what was wrong with her? She shook her head furiously and chewed on her lip, determined to expel whatever feelings Ralph had left her with.

Damn him! Damn him, damn him, damn him-

But Louise was interrupted. She realized how far she had strayed from the group, how easy it would be for her to drown in the ocean's deathly depths and how no one would ever hear her screams. Louise glanced over her shoulder and squinted. She was able to see the faint images of people stirring along the original clearing, Ralph and Piggy amongst them.

They're so far away...

And she was on the complete other side of the island, torn away by her absorption in Ralph and every fucking thing he did and-

There was an abrupt noise from the forest, not too far away from where Louise stood, feet burned by the blistering heat of the sand, eyes narrowed in evident concern. The noise sounded again.

A rustling, she decided, then realized in sudden horror that something was in those shrubs, watching her, listening to her, stalking her-

Despite her innate fear, Louise went against her instincts and drew close to the trim of the forest. Her movements were slow and tense, no haste within them, and before long, she was standing right at the bushes, watching them as if a tiger was going to emerge.

That's what you'd deserve. A tiger gnawing off your face, you dimwit.

But no tiger came. Surprisingly, nothing came - not a pig, nor a bear, nor a monster...

But then she heard it. Breathing. Hungry and suddenly very loud breaths, and they didn't belong to her. Louise took a step backwards and tilted her head at the sight. It didn't sound like an animal's breaths, but more like a...a...a...

Wordlessly, Louise turned on her heel and sprinted away.

A human.

Someone had been watching her, staring in disguise as she made her way along the yellow beach. They could've followed her, and - oh god, what if it was that damned Jack? What if he saw her smiling mindlessly like some idiotic fool, as if she was mad -

Louise disregarded her thoughts the minute she heard a pair of footsteps behind her.

Oh my god, she thought with dreary confusion, They're following me now!

She went to turn in the forest, maybe throw her pursuer off, but her feet were stiff and sloppy in the thick sand, and it was difficult to run at a steady pace. Louise wasn't athletic even back at home, and before long, she was terribly winded. Her panicked frenzy slowed, too short of the safe clearing. In a strange mixture of exhaustion and despair, the girl collapsed upon her knees, willing herself to get up and continue running. She didn't, and her pursuer caught up rather quickly. Unlike Louise, he showed some range of athletic ability. In one swift motion, her pursuer had kicked her flat on her stomach and flipped on her back so that she could meet his cruel gaze. Quite honestly, she wasn't surprised at the dark grey eyes that stared back at her.

"Hello," Roger said, straddling her hips. His dark hair was rustled and messy, disheveled from the thrill of the pursuit, and his lips were set in a mild smirk. If it had been any other normal circumstance, Louise may have even found the boy to be handsome. But here, with his weight crushing her torso, she saw anything but good intentions in his dark gaze. Louise opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. Her vocal ability had involuntarily frozen, rendering her speech useless, just as it always did when she was scared or nervous.

Damn it, no!

Louise could only stare back the boy and hope that her glare looked somewhat threatening.

Roger could tell the girl was trying her hardest to appeal as hostile, but he knew she was anything but. From the way her limbs fell stiff and tense under his cold grasp told him everything he needed to know. She was scared, nervous, probably panicked - Shy little girls like Louise could never handle themselves, and that was a fact. He remembered Jack saying something about it earlier on, but never mind him - Roger was going to figure out this little bitch for himself.

He stared down at the girl, head tilted slightly, as if she was the strangest thing he had ever seen. And perhaps she was, with her lips parted and her blue eyes wide, almost like some kind of frightened animal. The thought made Roger smirk, and languorously, he was pressing himself closer to her thin frame, leaning down until she could feel his breath hot on her neck.

"You're a long way from the clearing, aren't you, girly?" Roger spoke in a predatory whisper, his breath falling upon the unscathed skin of her neck. Louise shuddered and tried to turn her head, but the raven haired boy had her locked in his grasp.

"That's a bit dangerous, don't you think?" Roger continued, almost lazily, as if holding the startled girl beneath him was a languid pleasure. He enjoyed watching - feeling - her quake with fear. It excited him to no ends.

When Louise remained silent, Roger laughed quietly and sat up, forcing her gaze upon his. His grey eyes were dark and gleamed with an emotion Louise couldn't quite name. She noticed a few of the other choir boys who would look at her with similar expressions around camp, but never were they as intense as Roger's stare. Suddenly, Roger released his hold on her left arm and went to grab something from his pocket. In an animal-like frenzy, the girl's arm convulsed and jerked, intent on somehow breaking free from her captor. But Roger just smiled, calmly unveiled the object, and dangled it carelessly over her throat.

It was a knife. A glittering, lethal knife.

Louise's arm stopped instantly. She was thrown into a catatonic state of fear. Her body was so stiff in apprehension that Roger laughed and withdrew the knife from her throat.

"Strange, isn't it? You walk all the way out here, perilously away from the others, and you never suspected that you would be hunted." Roger caught her gasp and grinned, his eyes fixed upon the glimmering the thing in his hand. "And to think that no matter what happens, nobody would hear you scream."

Roger's grey eyes found the pale blue sky, and a relaxed sigh escaped him. This was fun. Better than any rugby game or choir practice or anything. Roger had never felt such control, such volatile power, and it feel good. Pleasurable, even.

When he brought his gaze back towards the quivering girl, he saw that she was now shaking her head desperately, almost as if she was having a spasm. He laughed again, narrowed his eyes at the knife, and leaned back towards the girl.

"You're not scared, are you?" He asked, his lips brushing the soft flesh of her ear.

A sob escaped her now, a sob that deemed her weak in Roger's mind. He chuckled against her skin and adjusted himself so that his hips were pressed harshly into hers. Louise blinked through more tears at this transaction, pained by the feeling of his hips brutally ground against hers. It felt wrong when he moaned, wrong when his hands tightened around her narrow wrists, wrong when he dipped his head into her shoulder and clutched that glinting knife.

Somehow, god forbid, Louise found the strength to speak.

"Pl...please...don't," she breathed, her voice shaken and hoarse. Roger fell still at the sound of her quiet voice, enthralled by the sheer sense of frailty she emitted. With a small smile, he bent his head towards her so that their foreheads touched. He could feel her panicked, short breaths against his own, all the while egging on the pulsating feeling buried deep within him. It felt good abusing her like this. Good.

Roger grinned, eyes wide and stormy.

"What's your name again?" He drawled, his voice thick with sudden desire. She felt so right, so good beneath him. His lips curled as he brought the tip of the knife to her small mouth. "Louisa?"

Louise answered him despite the irrational fear that was welling up within her.

"Louise," she whispered, watching in horror as he moved the knife to her cheek. He wouldn't hurt her, would he? Not like that.

Roger smirked and pressed the tip of the knife into her warm flesh, watching as crimson blood trickled out. She shrieked in quiet terror, eliciting another groan from the boy - a groan lathered in lust and sadistic need.

With his eyes tracked upon the drizzling blood, Roger nodded and spoke against Louise's ear. "Louise...that's right. I had forgotten. You don't say much, do you, Louise?"

Roger briefly contemplated on digging the knife into her soft skin again, just to feel her shudder beneath him, elating the sense of power in his mind. But he restrained his urge and focused his attention to the aching feeling in his groin - after all, one bloodied mark upon her cheek would raise enough suspicion from that blasted, dimwit Ralph, and Roger preferred to keep off his radar if possible.

Louise stared in stiffened dread as Roger smiled once more, folding the knife behind his back. He touched their noses together and she tried to turn her head, forcing an annoyed grunt from the boy above her. Suddenly, his eyes were shadowed with dark curiosity, and to her horrified dismay, she felt his hands return to her arms in an almost predatory movement.

"Jack said that you're just like me." Roger's eyes appeared to be glazed over for a moment, as if his mind was in an utterly different place. When his gaze was reacquainted with hers, his trance was lost, and he was dark with menacing intent once more. He hovered above her, licked his lips, and brought his mouth towards the trail of blood down her cheek.

"But I don't think that's possible," He said softly, breathing onto her skin. Before Louise could even scream, she felt something warm and wet glide across her cheek. It took her a moment to realize that Roger was licking her - no, licking her blood. She squeaked in fear and the boy lazily lifted his head, studying her in interested intrigue. He was smiling again - that fucking scary smile - and then abruptly, Roger brought his lips to hers.

At first it was only a featherlight touch - almost sweet...nice even. Louise nearly forgot how much Roger frightened her, but then, on cue, he was crushing his warm lips against hers, violently and with haste. When she only stilled in response to his action, Roger grunted again and forcefully took her bottom lip between his own, melding their mouths in the most vulgar way Louise thought possible. Louise never had kissed a boy before, let alone really interacted with many boys, and this wasn't an ideal first kiss. She hardly knew the boy, and his kiss hurt her. It was a violation of her space. She wasn't sure if all kisses were like that - rough and forced - but nonetheless, she fell limp beneath her captor and allowed him to ravage her mouth.

It all happened so fast. At first it was innocent, and then terribly vindictive as the boy slipped his tongue inside his reluctant partner's mouth. She could still taste the blood that lingered upon him - her blood. It was metallically foul, and Louise had to mentally berate herself before she fully recognized what he was doing. His tongue slid against her teeth before moving against her own diffident muscle - a poor effort at arousing a reaction from the girl. The foreign feeling startled her and forced her to squirm beneath him, disgusted and stunned at the boy's instinctive impulses. Her thigh brushed up against him, and soon the silence was devoured by Roger's groans and Louise's soft sobs.

Louise was sure that her cruel torture would never end, but then, like the fingers of dawn upon the swarthy night, someone was there. There to help her.

"Roger?"

Roger removed himself from Louise as quickly as he had came, snarling at the intruder with animalistic anger. Louise could hardly understand why, for the boy that stood before them both was none other than little Johnny, one of the first children she had the pleasure of meeting upon the island. The poor child looked terribly confused, and was that disgust leering in his stare? Louise wasn't sure, and quite honestly, she could care less. Nothing compared to the wonderful caress of relief upon her worn heart. The absence of Roger's body eased her thoughts, but still, her body shook in the tremor of it all.

Johnny frowned and stepped away, eyes wild in fright.

"Wh...what's...are you...is she...?"

"Nothing," Roger hissed, moving off of Louise as if she repulsed him. "It's nothing."

Johnny caught a glimpse of Roger's knife and quirked an eyebrow.

"Is that Jack's knife?"

"I borrowed it." Roger thrust the knife back in his pocket, eyes dark in menace.

"And if you tell anybody about what you just saw, I'll borrow it again to slit your throat. You understand?"

Johnny didn't need anything else to convince him of Roger's threat; in a split second, he was on his feet again, sprinting down the beach in childish fear. Roger grinned and went to look back at Louise, but the girl had followed Johnny closely and was now nearly back at the clearing. Roger passed his tongue over his lips, relishing in the taste of the girl that they still held.

Somehow, he knew she wouldn't tell anybody. Perhaps she'd feel too ashamed to say anything, or maybe fear would get the best of her. Nonetheless, no matter what caused the girl to hold her silence, it left Roger it a comfortable position. He enjoyed that. He liked having such control over another human being - practically obliterating the girl's self dignity and installing pure fear. Fear. It's what Roger thrived on. He loved it. It was the core of his very existence.

The black haired boy watched with narrowed eyes as Louise made it back to the clearing. A smile flickered upon his face, and for once, it wasn't forced. His heart was flooded with callous contentment, an emotion Roger was growing to love.

"Like I thought," Roger murmured softly, watching as Louise collapsed next to Piggy. That'll drive that Ralph mad, that's for sure. He clicked his tongue in exasperation and turned on his heel. "...she's not like me, after all."

Truth be told, nobody was quite like Roger.

A/N: Woo for Roger chapter. Another long one. (sorry don't hate me I know it's uber long I'm so sorry HAPPY NEW YEAR).

It took a really long time to write this chapter, so it would be GREATLY appreciated if I could catch your thoughts on it :) Critique, requests, things you liked, things you didn't...etc. Just leave it in a review! Woo! :D