In the Eyes of a Killer
There is something inside of me, and it scares the living daylights out of me. It has been two years since we were rescued, two years to the day my foe found his salvation. I cannot condone for what I have done, can not ignore the finger pointing, the looks of fear in my schoolmates' eyes. I feel their eyes on me all the time. Even now, they think I am crazy, think I'm bloody gone cuckoo. It has been so long since I have been looked at with compassion, with benevolence, with respect. All around me, the looks of fear, of anger, of shock, they swirl around me like a whirlwind, always there, always waiting for me to do something insane. In my mind, I knew why. I knew why they looked at me, like some freak show they have at the circus. If they only knew what had happened to me, if they only knew how deep my personality is. Maybe, just maybe.they would see me for who I am, and not the person I had become. And by golly, I would show them! I, Jack Merridew, will show them for sure! I will not give up; the word surrender does not fit into my word category. However, to know me is to judge me, and I think now would be perfect to reveal what had happened two years before. This is my story, and be prepared for a wild ride.
Mum and Dad were scared of 'The War'. I had always known it as 'The War' never under its proper title. Dad was not one for trivial things, and Mum was not the kind of woman who would remind him of what he was saying. They spoiled me rotten, with lots of knick-knacks and books, whatever I wanted. Money was never a problem, and when 'The War' broke out, Mum got scared that I would be at home, sitting cozy at the fireplace, while a bomb would drop on our roof and explode. Knowing how frantic she was growing, my father put me on the first flight out of Mother England, first class flight on a plane. I guess other parents were worried about their children, because I found myself surrounded by not only strange boys from other private schools, but also my entire choir! Oh, the get together was so much fun, with all of my friends, especially Roger. Roger was my right hand man at most times, with his own taste for fun and enjoyment. As little kids, he always came up with the greatest of games to play. We would play these idiotic games that would keep us in stitches for hours. I always had fun when Roger was around; he liked the same things I did, had the same interests. We had wonderful times when we were younger. Then suddenly, a force that seemed to be bent on destroying this reunion of old friends violently shook the floor of the plane. The shock coursed through my body, and oh boy, was it unbearable! For awhile, I blacked out, and did not stir for quite some time. When I came to, I was lying face down on a beach, on what looked to be like a deserted island. Dusting myself off, I trudged off to look for my choir. By a stroke of luck, I found all eight of the choir members, and stirring them to consciousness, we all got up and
discussed what happened. Since there was no plane to be found, I knew something had gone wrong as we were flying over this island. My thoughts were interrupted by the long and bellowing calls of a trumpet, or some sort of instrument, and for a short time, my heart raced. All of our hearts did, I could see it in my choir's faces. We all wanted to go home, like this was some kind of dream, some kind of daydream. Roger was the first one who suggested we go see who that was with the trumpet, and I agreed. So, single file, two by two, be strolled down the beach towards the trumpet noises, with the blazing heat of the sun at our backs, and singing a song aloud to keep the morale high. As things occurred, there were no trumpets, no civilization, and no grown-ups. Only a boy, lean and thin, with a conch shell cupped between his hands. Sitting beside him, a monstrously overweight boy, with glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, was looking around in all directions. As I looked where his gaze was leaving, I could make out the distant figures of our boys, only smaller, and younger than I was. They were annoying, to say the least, and their childish behavior irritated me. Little did I know that I would be stuck with these boys for quite some time. Before I knew it, the introductions had been made. The boy with the conch was Ralph. He was one of those 'by the book' types, always wanting order in a place where there was none. Did he not understand? There were no grown-ups to boss us around; we could do anything we wanted! Why was there a reason for rules? At the time, I did not know why Ralph was setting rules and restrictions on where we ate, where we slept, or why we should keep the fire, that was made with the monstrous boy Piggy's glasses, going. What I did not know was that his rules were the only thing keeping us civilized, keeping us sane in an insane world. However, being me, I had to rebel. I did not see the point to rules, and my arrogance made me blind.
Flash forward to. God only knows when. I never kept track of the days; living from one span of time to the next became tedious to keep track of. My choir were the hunters of our group of riffraff boys, and I was the hunting party's leader, like the alpha male of a pack of wolves. We were so good at what we did. One day, we started to hunt in the jungle, and left the fire unattended. We had successfully killed our first pig, and we celebrated. However, everything was cut short by Ralph's statement that a ship had sailed past, and if the fire was going it would have attracted that ship's attention. That was the first time what I did and what Ralph wanted us to do had clashed. In times to come, we would continue to clash, and never seeing eye to eye with anything again. I do not know what had gotten into me that day. Maybe what happened was my growing wildness. Maybe it was the first time where I did not care anymore about getting rescued. All I know for sure, is I let the beast out from within. I let the darkness in my heart escape into the world, and did nothing to conceal it. It was something feral; something awful. As the days slid on towards weeks, and then to months, I became nothing more than a beast; a human child degenerated by the evil inside. I even went as far as killing innocent people, two boys who I had nothing against: Simon and Piggy. I didn't kill Piggy by my own hand, but it is all my fault just the same. It weighs on my conscieence all the time, now that I have begun to think about it. And Simon! The way Simon was killed, murdered to be more exact.it still haunts my dreams even now. It shames me to admit that I had a hand in human murder. You all think I am bloody crazy, right? That is why I am stuck here, in this shrink's office. I can not say I blame my parents for shipping me here. Hopefully I have helped you understand at least a little about what had happened to me on that island. I became a feral beast, something without cares or worries. Maybe even someone without a soul for a short period of time. I am not sure, completely, but. I am happy that I do not have to go through that again. Me, a killer. that is a roller coaster ride I never want to bloody take again.
There is something inside of me, and it scares the living daylights out of me. It has been two years since we were rescued, two years to the day my foe found his salvation. I cannot condone for what I have done, can not ignore the finger pointing, the looks of fear in my schoolmates' eyes. I feel their eyes on me all the time. Even now, they think I am crazy, think I'm bloody gone cuckoo. It has been so long since I have been looked at with compassion, with benevolence, with respect. All around me, the looks of fear, of anger, of shock, they swirl around me like a whirlwind, always there, always waiting for me to do something insane. In my mind, I knew why. I knew why they looked at me, like some freak show they have at the circus. If they only knew what had happened to me, if they only knew how deep my personality is. Maybe, just maybe.they would see me for who I am, and not the person I had become. And by golly, I would show them! I, Jack Merridew, will show them for sure! I will not give up; the word surrender does not fit into my word category. However, to know me is to judge me, and I think now would be perfect to reveal what had happened two years before. This is my story, and be prepared for a wild ride.
Mum and Dad were scared of 'The War'. I had always known it as 'The War' never under its proper title. Dad was not one for trivial things, and Mum was not the kind of woman who would remind him of what he was saying. They spoiled me rotten, with lots of knick-knacks and books, whatever I wanted. Money was never a problem, and when 'The War' broke out, Mum got scared that I would be at home, sitting cozy at the fireplace, while a bomb would drop on our roof and explode. Knowing how frantic she was growing, my father put me on the first flight out of Mother England, first class flight on a plane. I guess other parents were worried about their children, because I found myself surrounded by not only strange boys from other private schools, but also my entire choir! Oh, the get together was so much fun, with all of my friends, especially Roger. Roger was my right hand man at most times, with his own taste for fun and enjoyment. As little kids, he always came up with the greatest of games to play. We would play these idiotic games that would keep us in stitches for hours. I always had fun when Roger was around; he liked the same things I did, had the same interests. We had wonderful times when we were younger. Then suddenly, a force that seemed to be bent on destroying this reunion of old friends violently shook the floor of the plane. The shock coursed through my body, and oh boy, was it unbearable! For awhile, I blacked out, and did not stir for quite some time. When I came to, I was lying face down on a beach, on what looked to be like a deserted island. Dusting myself off, I trudged off to look for my choir. By a stroke of luck, I found all eight of the choir members, and stirring them to consciousness, we all got up and
discussed what happened. Since there was no plane to be found, I knew something had gone wrong as we were flying over this island. My thoughts were interrupted by the long and bellowing calls of a trumpet, or some sort of instrument, and for a short time, my heart raced. All of our hearts did, I could see it in my choir's faces. We all wanted to go home, like this was some kind of dream, some kind of daydream. Roger was the first one who suggested we go see who that was with the trumpet, and I agreed. So, single file, two by two, be strolled down the beach towards the trumpet noises, with the blazing heat of the sun at our backs, and singing a song aloud to keep the morale high. As things occurred, there were no trumpets, no civilization, and no grown-ups. Only a boy, lean and thin, with a conch shell cupped between his hands. Sitting beside him, a monstrously overweight boy, with glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, was looking around in all directions. As I looked where his gaze was leaving, I could make out the distant figures of our boys, only smaller, and younger than I was. They were annoying, to say the least, and their childish behavior irritated me. Little did I know that I would be stuck with these boys for quite some time. Before I knew it, the introductions had been made. The boy with the conch was Ralph. He was one of those 'by the book' types, always wanting order in a place where there was none. Did he not understand? There were no grown-ups to boss us around; we could do anything we wanted! Why was there a reason for rules? At the time, I did not know why Ralph was setting rules and restrictions on where we ate, where we slept, or why we should keep the fire, that was made with the monstrous boy Piggy's glasses, going. What I did not know was that his rules were the only thing keeping us civilized, keeping us sane in an insane world. However, being me, I had to rebel. I did not see the point to rules, and my arrogance made me blind.
Flash forward to. God only knows when. I never kept track of the days; living from one span of time to the next became tedious to keep track of. My choir were the hunters of our group of riffraff boys, and I was the hunting party's leader, like the alpha male of a pack of wolves. We were so good at what we did. One day, we started to hunt in the jungle, and left the fire unattended. We had successfully killed our first pig, and we celebrated. However, everything was cut short by Ralph's statement that a ship had sailed past, and if the fire was going it would have attracted that ship's attention. That was the first time what I did and what Ralph wanted us to do had clashed. In times to come, we would continue to clash, and never seeing eye to eye with anything again. I do not know what had gotten into me that day. Maybe what happened was my growing wildness. Maybe it was the first time where I did not care anymore about getting rescued. All I know for sure, is I let the beast out from within. I let the darkness in my heart escape into the world, and did nothing to conceal it. It was something feral; something awful. As the days slid on towards weeks, and then to months, I became nothing more than a beast; a human child degenerated by the evil inside. I even went as far as killing innocent people, two boys who I had nothing against: Simon and Piggy. I didn't kill Piggy by my own hand, but it is all my fault just the same. It weighs on my conscieence all the time, now that I have begun to think about it. And Simon! The way Simon was killed, murdered to be more exact.it still haunts my dreams even now. It shames me to admit that I had a hand in human murder. You all think I am bloody crazy, right? That is why I am stuck here, in this shrink's office. I can not say I blame my parents for shipping me here. Hopefully I have helped you understand at least a little about what had happened to me on that island. I became a feral beast, something without cares or worries. Maybe even someone without a soul for a short period of time. I am not sure, completely, but. I am happy that I do not have to go through that again. Me, a killer. that is a roller coaster ride I never want to bloody take again.