Chapter 4: Enough
Ralph stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He climbed onto his bed and punched a pillow, then hugged it to his chest.
"It wasn't your fault, Jack," Ralph whimpered to himself, though he spoke as though Jack was listening. "It was mine. I was the chief. I let these things happen," Ralph continued.
After a few moments of silence, Ralph got off of his bed.
"Shirt," he mumbled. "Pants, even," Ralph chuckled, looking at his tattered shorts. He walked toward a closet at the side of the room, and picked out a white shirt and black pants. He dressed in the outfit, then looked at himself bemusedly. Clean. He was clean. He wore good clothes-- he was not covered in sand.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Ralph turned around, looking in the door's direction, expecting to see Roger. Yet instead, Ralph saw Jack clutching a piece from a blanket in his hand, tears streaming down his face.
"Jack," Ralph said, surprised.
Jack turned around, stared at the door, then closed it.
"I'm sorry, Ralph," Jack said clearly. "It's all my fault. I've ruined my own life, killed two people, and scarred everyone else's life meanwhile," he said, through his weeping. He banged his head against the door a few times.
"Stop it," Ralph said concernedly.
Jack rested his forehead against the door, and continued to cry. He stepped aside and faced Ralph.
"Kill me-- just.. feel free to kill me. I don't deserve to live," Jack wept.
"Jesus, Jack, stop that talk," Ralph growled.
"I'm serious," sniffled Jack.
Ralph shook his head. "I'm not killing anyone," he simply retorted.
Jack turned around again, and punched the door in frustration. A surge of pain ran through Jack's arm, which he then cradled; he slid to the floor, crying more than ever.
"Enough," Ralph sighed, kneeling a few feet away from Jack.
Jack looked up at Ralph for a moment, but then hung his head in shame and misery.
"Roger- he'll do it," Jack grumbled.
"Yes, he will," Ralph protested. "No one is going to kill anyone."
"I already did," sobbed Jack.
"That was in the past, and you didn't kill anyone individually," Ralph explained.
Jack did not counter the statement.
"No one's going to kill you, Jack," Ralph said firmly. "Now, get some sleep," he chuckled, "you'll be better in the morning."
Ralph stormed into his room, slamming the door behind him. He climbed onto his bed and punched a pillow, then hugged it to his chest.
"It wasn't your fault, Jack," Ralph whimpered to himself, though he spoke as though Jack was listening. "It was mine. I was the chief. I let these things happen," Ralph continued.
After a few moments of silence, Ralph got off of his bed.
"Shirt," he mumbled. "Pants, even," Ralph chuckled, looking at his tattered shorts. He walked toward a closet at the side of the room, and picked out a white shirt and black pants. He dressed in the outfit, then looked at himself bemusedly. Clean. He was clean. He wore good clothes-- he was not covered in sand.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Ralph turned around, looking in the door's direction, expecting to see Roger. Yet instead, Ralph saw Jack clutching a piece from a blanket in his hand, tears streaming down his face.
"Jack," Ralph said, surprised.
Jack turned around, stared at the door, then closed it.
"I'm sorry, Ralph," Jack said clearly. "It's all my fault. I've ruined my own life, killed two people, and scarred everyone else's life meanwhile," he said, through his weeping. He banged his head against the door a few times.
"Stop it," Ralph said concernedly.
Jack rested his forehead against the door, and continued to cry. He stepped aside and faced Ralph.
"Kill me-- just.. feel free to kill me. I don't deserve to live," Jack wept.
"Jesus, Jack, stop that talk," Ralph growled.
"I'm serious," sniffled Jack.
Ralph shook his head. "I'm not killing anyone," he simply retorted.
Jack turned around again, and punched the door in frustration. A surge of pain ran through Jack's arm, which he then cradled; he slid to the floor, crying more than ever.
"Enough," Ralph sighed, kneeling a few feet away from Jack.
Jack looked up at Ralph for a moment, but then hung his head in shame and misery.
"Roger- he'll do it," Jack grumbled.
"Yes, he will," Ralph protested. "No one is going to kill anyone."
"I already did," sobbed Jack.
"That was in the past, and you didn't kill anyone individually," Ralph explained.
Jack did not counter the statement.
"No one's going to kill you, Jack," Ralph said firmly. "Now, get some sleep," he chuckled, "you'll be better in the morning."