++ CHAPTER TEN
You don't own me.
It became Arianna's own silent mantra in the battle to maintain her sanity. Jack now kept her guarded round the clock. He had said it was to protect her from the "monster," but Arianna had a feeling it was to make sure she didn't try to run away again. The new Chief Jack was wild, savage, and inexplicably paranoid regarding any attempt to undermine his power. Other than Ralph and Piggy on their end of the island, the only other person who ever challenged him was Arianna.
Better to be feared than loved. She remembered reading this in one of her history classes. A line from Machiavelli, when they had been learning about political theory. There had been another one: Thomas Hobbes, and his pessimistic view of mankind. People are inherently selfish. Without order, the world would be cruel. Brutal. Chaos.
Had they all slipped into this kind of reality? Was the possibility of civilized life on this island beyond repair?
It was thinking about her old life, asking herself questions, that kept Arianna from becoming one of them. Ever as the other boys donned war paint, wielded spears, she could still picture them as they once were all those weeks ago. Little boys in school uniforms. With teachers and parents and brothers and sisters. Families, who, if they were alive, were undoubtedly searching for them at that very moment.
Arianna could never allow herself to forget that. Her name was Arianna Lovejoy. She was fifteen, almost sixteen years old. She had run away from boarding school. Her father was Warren Lovejoy, Dean of the Academy. And he was looking for her right now, along with all the others.
For the first time in a while, she thought again about her old roommate. Maureen DeWitt, the same one who had made Arianna's life a living hell back at Maywood Prep. How petty all that now seemed… And yet, that same feeling of helplessness, her own absence of authority. If the both of them were on the island right now, far away from their teachers' watchful eyes, Arianna was sure she would do more than just chop off Maureen's pretty blond hair. If given the opportunity to wrap her hands around Maureen DeWitt's throat, Arianna would take it. The thought of that horrid girl made her blood boil – even now. Especially now.
You don't own me.
The same desire for vengeance that had consumed her all those weeks ago was back with full force. Only this time, it was aimed at the boys who had violated her, and to the ones who stood by and laughed. The ones who did nothing, who simply watched.
If Arianna had the physical strength, she knew she could be just as cruel, just as brutal as any monster on this island. But she'd have to be smarter than them. She wouldn't descend to their level of impulsivity. Act; don't just react. She would bide her time like a bird of prey, or maybe a rattlesnake. Hunched over, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
She hungered for blood. Roger's blood. Despite Jack's repeat abuses, Roger was the one Arianna hated the most. Her skin crawled each time he leered at her, when she was reminded what little regard he had for her humanity. She could sense his impatience to have her again, waiting for Jack's go-ahead. And Jack would eventually let him. And for now, Arianna would have to take it. She would have to wait until the perfect moment, her shot at revenge. She salivated over the very thought of it. It was the only thing that was keeping her going.
She was crazy. She had to be going crazy.
I am Arianna Lovejoy. You don't own me. Her mantra, repeated countless times throughout the day, intermingled with images. Blood, the color of rubies. The death of a king. Her sweet, sweet revenge.
Before Jack left to go hunting with the others, he had left Luke in charge of Arianna. Luke was probably the quietest boy on the island, even easier to lose in a crowd than Simon. But Luke lacked the precociousness that Arianna had seen in Simon, and perhaps a moral compass as well. He was the perfect lackey, rarely making eye contact, taking orders without question. If he weren't so weak-willed, Arianna would have done everything in her power to break him.
They were sitting at the rocky overlook marking the entrance to Jack's side of the island. The sun was mild, as it was still fairly early in the day. Arianna found herself periodically scanning the horizon for any sign of aircraft. An exercise in futility, but anything to escape the agony of waiting.
Beside her, Luke was fidgety. He had been ignoring her the entire time, most likely resentful that he had to miss out on the hunt. Nope, Arianna mused. Definitely not like Simon. Speaking of, she hadn't seen him in ages and guessed that he had to still be with Ralph. What on earth was that boy up to, she wondered.
"So," said Arianna. "You think they'll finally catch something?"
Startled at being directly addressed by the only female on the island, Luke quickly glanced her way. He looked suspicious that she was talking to him, but he answered anyway. "They better. I need something I can chew on."
It was probably the longest sentence Arianna had heard him string together. And she hated to admit it, but she agreed. The entire time they had been sustaining themselves with fruit, freshwater, and whatever small fish they could spear in the stream. As a result of their bland and rudimentary island diet, many of them had lost some weight since they first arrived – Arianna included.
The promise of meat alone wasn't enough for Jack to maintain control over his tribe. There was also fear and admiration. Did Jack have any followers, despite Roger maybe, where the loyalty went any deeper than that?
"It's a shame they've left you here with me," Arianna began, thinking she could test him. "Why do you listen to them anyway?"
Luke shrugged. "Jack's the chief. Honestly, it would be pretty stupid not to listen. You should know."
He looked at her with such a vapid, unquestioning expression. Arianna realized that Luke's loyalty simply stemmed from the fact that he liked being told what to do. As though he could not fathom what it would be like not to be ordered around. She had to hand it to her father's teaching abilities. If the only goal of the Academy was to churn out mindlessly obedient soldiers, they were doing a hell of a good job.
Then, in the distance, the sound of war cries. It was Jack's triumphant band of hunters. Jack was leading them, and behind him was the decapitated carcass of what Arianna could only guess was a wild pig, swinging on a stake.
Luke jumped to his feet. "They've done it! They've killed a pig."
Once they drew close enough, Arianna could see Jack's smug smile hidden behind the war paint. In that moment, he was triumphant, larger-than-life, like a tribal god. The madness of the hunt still seared in his eyes as he raised his spear to proclaim, "Tonight, we eat like kings!"
Around him, his band of savages hooted in delight. Their faces were also painted, and their eyes held the same crazed glint.
Beside Arianna, Luke could hardly contain his admiration. "How did you do it?" he asked, his mouth wide open in awe.
"Easy," Jack said, feigning nonchalance, but it was all too clear how eager he was to retell the story of his first kill. "We crept up on of it – all of us – surrounding it. Go on, Roger, show them."
Arianna watched as Roger got on his hands and knees, grunting and playing the pig to the glee of his fellow hunters. The boys with their spears quickly got into formation, tightening their hold around the Roger-pig.
Jack continued, breathless, "We got into a circle, and then –"
A dozen spears dug into the ground surrounding Roger, pantomiming the pig's inevitable demise. The hunters once again erupted in cheers, having relished in the day's glory. It gave Arianna such a sick, sinking feeling inside. She didn't know why.
Then Jack turned to offer a hand to Roger, helping him back to his feet. "I say tonight we have a feast. We'll invite Ralph and Miss Piggy to show what they're missing out on." This comment earned yet another round of laughs from his hunters, and Jack's grin grew even wider. Emboldened, his gaze locked once again onto Arianna, the only one who had not been cheering. "What say you, Princess?" he taunted. "You were so eager to get back to him last night. Maybe you can relay the message."
Arianna stayed silent but she refused to break eye contact. She was still sore from the night before; each movement of her fatigued muscles, a repetition of her inner mantra: I am not yours. It was only then that she realized that Jack was still punishing her.
"No so chatty today? Fine. " His breezy, unrepentant reply quickly morphed into a threat when he lowered his voice to order her, "You get to be the pig."
"W-what?" It was enough to startle a response out of her.
"You have a higher-pitched voice than Roger," said Jack, taking a menacing step toward her, spear in hand. "Come on, Arianna. Let's hear you squeal."
It was a challenge. But Arianna had not yet learned to swallow her pride. She met his gaze and said, stubbornly, "No. I most certainly will not."
The group was watching with bated breath for Jack's next move. And without missing a beat, he delivered. "You get to be the pig now. You don't get to choose," he countered. "So run."
She was flabbergasted. "What do you mean run?"
His painted face gave nothing away when he told her, "You heard me." To the rest of the hunters, he announced, "Whoever catches Arianna wins a special prize from the chief!" Then he turned back to her and said, "You have ten seconds."
Arianna found her feet rooted to the spot. Around her, no one seemed to have any problems with Jack's orders. By the looks on their faces, they seemed to revel in her own humiliation, in the possibility of another hunt. Any shred of human decency from their old lives, it was though the island had cleanly swept it all away.
Still, she tried one more time. "Jack–"
"Nine…"
"Please Jack–"
"Eight…"
"Would you listen for a second–"
"Seven…"
"This isn't funny–"
"Six…"
Panicking, Arianna stepped back into another tall, lean body she knew instantly to be Roger. She didn't dare turn around when he grabbed her by the shoulders and whispered in her ear, "If you want to be able to walk tomorrow, you better run now."
"Please." She looked back at Jack with pleading eyes.
But he did not relent.
"Five…"
With that, Arianna sprinted off into the jungle. Barefooted, breathless, tangled hair flailing wildly behind her. She wasn't aiming for the fire or the beach or even Ralph. She was driven by the most primal instinct of all: to save her own life.
She ran and she ran and she ran. Until she saw it: the pig's head poised proudly on a stick. Like some kind of pagan offering. Although Jack and the others must have left it there not more than an hour ago, flies had already gathered on its cheeks and eyes, feasting on the flesh that had hardly begun to fester.
She stopped dead in her tracks, feeling her stomach heave. Arianna had hardly eaten anything in the past couple days; otherwise she would have vomited then and there. Instead, she found herself staring at the head of the pig, transfixed. As though it were moving. As though it were speaking to her. As though it knew exactly why everything on the island had started to go wrong.
"Beautiful isn't it?"
The sound of a voice immediately jolted Arianna from her strange reverie. Her heart immediately jumped to her throat when she realized: "Roger."
He stepped out from the shadows into the clearing. His predatory smile could never be mistaken for friendly and the bulge in his loincloth revealed all too well what was thinking.
Roger set his spear down and slowly made his way toward her. "I believe you owe me a prize."
Arianna's eyes darted between Roger and the pig's head as she tried to bide herself some time. "What the hell is that thing?" she demanded.
His shark grin broadened. "A gift," he explained. "For the monster."
Of course. She felt her jaw muscles tense. "You really shouldn't have bothered."
He had closed the distance between them and started to undo the buttons on her dress. "Why is that?" he asked in a false lighthearted tone.
Arianna squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the fabric slip off her shoulders, leaving much of her skin bare. "You bastard," her voice shook. "You're the monster."
If Roger was insulted, he certainly didn't show it. Without another word, he moved the loincloth to the side and forced her on her knees.
By the time night had fallen, the fire was in full blaze. The smoke that would never reach high enough to signal a plane hung low in the sky, an ominous curtain over the painted children on the beach. They crowded around the campfire, spears in hand, their excited whispers carrying over the sizzling and crackling of the meat.
Jack presided over the feast like a warrior god. He felt high off of power – and maybe something else. He couldn't put a finger on it. This feeling of inhibition, something even stronger than freedom. To his right, Roger was spearing slabs of meat to be roasted. On his left, Luke was carving up the pig. All around him, his tribesmen ate. For the first time since crashing on this island, their bellies were full. That same feeling – Jack knew that they could feel it too.
"Here, chief," Roger handed him a freshly cooked slice of meat. Jack took a huge bite out of it and closed his eyes. It tasted nothing at all like the meat back home. It tasted like victory.
Swallowing, Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes scanned the beach hungrily. He was searching for his dessert.
Arianna, as always, stood out among his little band of savages. She was crouched on the sand, a bit a way from the fire. She had hardly said a word all night, nor had she touched a single piece of meat. Sulking, as per usual. But Jack was not going to let her gloominess dampen this night. He prowled over to where she sat, the campfire casting his long, tapered shadow over her body. She didn't even bother to look up.
Jack squatted down before her. He cupped her cheek in his hand, jerking her chin to face him before she could squirm away. Beautiful, he thought when she finally met his gaze. Her brown eyes, clouded by hate, were darker than ever. Jack could see the flames behind him reflected in her irises. Flecks red and gold against the black night.
"I brought you meat," he told her, his thumb brushing over her lips. "Open your mouth."
To his surprise, Arianna complied without resisting. He gently fed the strip of meat into her mouth, not breaking eye contact for a minute as she bit off a piece and chewed. Her eyes, so dark and so reproachful of him, yet they tantalized him in ways that he could not control. After she swallowed, instead of feeding her more meat, he eased his index finger into her mouth.
"Suck," Jack practically hissed. And she did, all the while staring back at him with such loathing in her eyes. Damn this girl, he cursed. He had to have her.
"Chief."
It was Roger summoning him. Struggling to suppress his urges, Jack withdrew his hand from stepped away from Arianna.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Ralph and Piggy. Spotted heading over the ridge. They look hungry," Roger announced, the corners of his lips curling into a grin.
Behind him, Jack felt Arianna stir. He glanced back at her, as if to give her a warning: don't you dare try to run away again.
"Well, let's not keep our guests waiting," he smirked. To the rest of his tribe, he raised his voice and ordered them to start the chant he had taught them earlier that evening.
We like it here, we love it here, we finally find a home!
A what?
A home!
A what?
A home!
A home away from home!
Together, their voices rang out in a way that was reminiscent of their military school days. Jack liked this one far better than "sir, yes sir." They raised their spears as one tribe with more ease than they had as cadets falling into line.
Eager to gloat, Jack nodded toward Luke, who was nearest to fire. "Luke, take them some meat." To Ralph, who had just reached the campfire, he jibed, "I promised I'd get meat, didn't I, Ralph? I want you to tell the littluns that I made a promise and I kept it!"
Ralph, always the habitual buzz kill, responded exactly as Jack could have predicted. "You kept your promise but you don't keep the fire watch. You think one lousy meal is worth not getting rescued? We gotta be one group again."
Stupid Ralph. If he didn't pose such a threat, Jack might have felt bad for him. "I agree!" he shouted back. "You can join my camp and have all the meat that you want."
"We don't want your meat!" Ralph snapped back.
Jack could guess that that was far from the truth. To the right of Ralph, Piggy was gobbling his slab of meat as though he had not eaten in days. They were hungry. But how long before he could starve them out?
"Oh yeah, then why'd you come here?" It wasn't Jack who retorted this time, but Sheraton, the mousy kid with the raspy voice. This brought a smirk to Jack's face. He had his own herd of attack dogs without having to give any orders.
"We came here to talk some sense into you," Ralph pressed on.
"You don't have the conch. Doesn't matter what you say" Sheraton jeered.
"The conch is in our camp where it belongs!" chimed in Piggy.
"What's the matter Tits? Too afraid to bring it with you, Miss Piggy Tits?" taunted Jack. The kid was just so pathetic that he couldn't resist. Already sick of seeing Ralph's face, he spat, "Nobody's interested in you and your fucking conch. Why don't you take your fat friend and shove off. You've had all the meat you can eat."
There was no one around to stop him. No one telling him to behave. Jack realized then the extent of his power. This was his end of the island. Here, he was invincible – just like during the hunt. Jack was drunk off of that godly kind of power. All he wanted was to feel it again.
"Come on hunters," he raised his spear. "Roger's the pig!"
And just like that, it started. The dance that had united Jack's hunters. The thirst for blood. Spears in hand, everyone in uproar as they chased Roger around the campfire. They could all feel it now, like the beating of a ceremonial drum. There was a harmony to the chaos, the tribe beating as one.
The circle of hunters closed in on Roger pantomimed the pig's demise, dozens of spears thrust into the sand mere inches away from his writhing body. With a roar, he jumped to his feet. The sound of the invisible, ominous drum grew louder and louder.
A shriek of terror resonated over the sound of the pulsating crowd. Tony was the first to spot the monster as it charged towards them on the beach. A dark figure hunched-over, emanating evil green beams.
The animalistic instinct to fight back overpowered Jack's fear. "Kill it!" he thundered, over and over. "Kill the monster!"
The tribe charged back with their spears, flailing and jabbing and piercing flesh. Jack led the frenzy. He would not stop until he drew blood. Until he was sure the monster was dead.
By the time any of them had heard the human cries at the other end of their spears, it was already too late. And at the startling sight of scarlet, the dance came to an abrupt halt. Human blood, pooling on the wet sand. There it was in the moonlight, glimmering like precious stone.
Jack drew back along with the others, lowering his spear. His mind began to clear with the horrifying realization of what they had just done.
The body, although badly mutilated, was unmistakable.
"No!"
A female shriek. Jack glanced back to see Arianna standing by the campfire along with Piggy and Ralph.
He could hear her saying to Ralph, "No – they couldn't have – he can't be –"
Ralph was staring back at Jack with the same look of alarm.
Simon, someone whispered.
A new feeling clutched Jack's throat. He was familiar with this one: shame. But he couldn't let it stop him. Tearing himself from the grisly scene, Jack stormed over to the fire. He wrenched Arianna away from Ralph and growled, "Don't even think about it."
Arianna yelped, and Ralph rushed forward in her defense. He opened his mouth, about to admonish Jack. Then he stopped suddenly, and Jack realized to his own satisfaction: he's afraid. Of me. Ralph is afraid of me.
"You better clear out, Colonel," Jack sneered, knowing his tribe was coming up right there behind him. He turned to Piggy, "Same as you, Fatass. If you're smart, you'd beat it too."
"This is wrong," Ralph said. But Jack could see him debating as his eyes darted between Arianna and Jack's tribe, to Simon's body lying on the beach. But at least Ralph was a good soldier. He knew which battles couldn't be won.
"We should go, Ralph," murmured Piggy beside him. He was staring at the body, and his scrunched-up little pig face showed that he, too, was afraid.
"Okay," Ralph swallowed, nodding his head. "Okay." He turned his back to Simon's murderers, turned his back to Arianna with her pleading eyes. He walked away from Jack's camp to the promise of the safety on the other side of the island; to the precarious comfort of knowing that he, unlike Simon, would live to see another day.
A/N: Poor Simon! When I took up writing Dirty Game again, I re-read Lord of the Flies for the first time in years. I had forgotten what a brilliant writer William Golding was. The structure of the story, the symbolism, and the beautiful descriptions (especially the one of Simon's death) were all well worth the time I spent analyzing them in my eighth grade English class.
Thanks for all who took the time to read and review Chapter 9. Plenty of updates coming soon, so don't forget to add this to your story alerts! Any reviews or comments would be very much appreciated :)