Leah

Everybody knows

It hurts to grow up

And everybody does

It's so weird to be back here.

Let me tell you what

The years go on and

We're still fighting it

We're still fighting it.

Lately, that chorus has been echoing through my head. Even with such luxuries as an "extreme" crossword puzzle book, when you're trapped in a room almost 24/7, your mind tends to go all over the place. And while I no longer see Ben Folds (or his piano), his music has been on repeat in my mind. I sip at my strawberry daiquiri, humming the song quietly to myself. I'm surprised they actually put alcohol in my drink. Not because I'm under the legal drinking age- they have made it fairly clear through the mini bottles of liquor and various other alcoholic beverages that magically found their way onto the island that they don't care about innocuous lawbreaking like that. They also made it abundantly clear when they let Rachel lose a hand, Toni almost get killed by a tree, Martha go catatonic, and me almost drown myself- that they don't care about any laws. Or how they treat people of any age.

So mostly my surprise is just that they put in the effort. That they even took me up on my drink request. And who knows- maybe they want me to get drunk. Maybe they are trying to get me off my game, to slow my mind and my reflexes. After all, I asked for the daiquiri before Gretchen knew she was completely and totally fucked.

And now, all that's left to do is wait. Wait for rescue. Or wait for a reckoning. I can't help but be reminded of a quote from Titanic. It was always one of my favorite movies. Toward the end, Rose says that they had nothing left to do but wait. Wait to die, wait to live… wait for an absolution that would never come. I'm trying to be more optimistic than that. After all, throughout my many repeated viewings of Titanic, I always thought about how I never would have survived it if I'd been there. That I wouldn't be strong enough. But after everything I;ve already survived… maybe I would.

I'm down to my final sips of daiquiri when I hear it. It's an unmistakable noise- a sound like a prison cell unlocking. And then I hear it again. And again. And again. One after another. I sit up tentatively- and suddenly the sound is no longer distant. It's my door. The click echoes through my room. I move cautiously toward the door. There's a hollow pit in my stomach, and I can't decide if what I'm feeling is fear or hope or something in between. I steel myself and turn the handle. The door opens easily.

When I step into the hallway, I find it lined with candles. I hear movement up ahead of me, and instinctively I tense up.

And then… there she is. Standing in front of me, still smelling of jasmine perfume, a feat only she could manage after months on an island and weeks in what amounted to a cell. She is so real and so tangible that I know even my insane brain couldn't have conjured her up, couldn't have created a mirage in her image.

"Fatin!"

I don't even realize I'm moving until my arms are around her. She hugs me back, tight, and she is warmth incarnate. I feel so relieved that I could cry. It's similar to how I felt when I got to see Shelby again in all her buzzcut glory. It's like one piece of me has been put back into place. But I know there are many more pieces. Fatin pulls back a bit.

"I have no fucking idea what's happening right now." She admits. She locks eyes with me, and her expression is resolute. "But I feel like you do."

I nod slightly. I realize why the look in her eyes seems so familiar to me. It's the look I saw when she spoke to me for the final time before our miraculous rescue:

"You're the strongest fucking person I know."

Words are forming on my lips, but Fatin cuts me off, her gaze shifting to focus on something behind me.

"Do you also maybe know who they are?"

I turn around and see two boys approaching. One of them looks like he could be the poster child for "A Series of Unfortunate Events", not just because of the emo aesthetic he so clearly has cultured for himself, but also because of the sadness in his eyes. The other looks like the type of guy that would get cast in a Riverdale-esque CW show as "hot asshole jock #3". I rack my brain, trying to recall the descriptions Raf gave me of the other boys on the island.

"Kirin and Henry…" I say decisively. "If I had to guess."

The blond meathead eyes me suspiciously.

"How the fuck do you know our names?" He questions. Normally I'd feel a twinge of pride at being right, but I don't have time for that.

"Doesn't matter." I tell him. Suddenly, I hear faint strains of music coming from down the hall. I wonder for a second if it's just my brain playing tricks on me, imagining things once more. I turn to Fatin. "Did you hear that?"

I can tell by her expression that she did, and so I race down the hallway towards it. Fatin is close behind me, and Kirin and Henry follow. I reach a set of double doors and push them open, rushing inside.

I don't know what I expected to find behind the doors, but it certainly wasn't this. It's a dance hall, on the smaller side, bathed in blue light and with some old-timey song playing. Streamers hang from the ceiling, and the room is adorned with balloons. At the far end is a stage, empty save a podium. I feel my head spinning, overwhelmed beyond words. After two weeks of essentially being imprisoned in one desolate room- not to mention fifty days on an island- this room feels so ripped from the normal world that it's almost dizzying. I glance at Fatin and the two boys, and can tell that they are similarly confused and dumbstruck.

Slowly more and more people enter the room. Some are my old friends and others are strangers. Dot and Shelby walk in, and I have that same feeling again; the sensation of lost pieces of me being put back into place. I'd been able to see Shelby once during the last two weeks, but that doesn't change how happy I am to be reunited with her once more. I think back to my suspicions of her during the days on the island when we still made camp on the beach, and how much I've grown to love and trust her since then. And Dot; our ever present rock. She brings with her a feeling of safety, despite the strange situation. No words are spoken as I embrace them. I'm too overwhelmed to even ask Shelby about her note, to question how she pieced everything together.

More boys enter the room as well, and I watch as they have similar reunions. I try, despite the fog clouding my brain, to attach names to them all. There's a kind faced, heavy-set boy who must be Bo, and glued to his side is a boy I determine to be his best friend Scotty. Raf had told me that Scotty was all about get-rich-quick schemes and was slow to trust others, but his face held more wisdom and honesty than I expected. Out of the corner of my eye I see Scotty greet Kirin with a handshake, an unspoken bond between the two evident.

I turn as three more people walk through the doors, with the girl in the center being supported by the two on either side of her. It's her that I register first. Martha. Awake. Alert. Alive. I feel my breath catch. Though Gretchen had informed me only hours ago that Martha was out of her catatonic state, seeing her here- with her kind eyes and gentle energy- feels like nothing short of a miracle. I force myself not to remember those four days of hopelessness. The days when I was useless; so wrapped up in my own potential insanity that I couldn't even walk more than 50 feet from camp. On one side, holding her up and supporting her, stands Toni- no surprise there. Toni would be beside Martha until the end.

Despite the way things left off between us- with Toni screaming at me, demanding to know if I was trying to "out crazy" her best friend- when I lock eyes with Toni we both smile. I remember when I was wandering the island, having very real, totally not all-in-my-head conversations with Ben Folds, that it was the cries of my friends that got through to me.

"The voices of people you love tend to carry."

That's what Ben had said. And if he was nothing more than a manifestation created by my own mind, then that meant it had to be true. Fatin's cry had been the push I needed to make the decision to return- to survive- but it was Toni's scream I heard first. She awakened me, giving me my first jolt, even before it was joined by Dot and Rachel.

Rachel. She supports Martha with just as much vigor as Toni. My heart breaks for her even as I struggle to comprehend all that is happening. She is still so strong, even after losing far more than the rest of us. I think back on how she helped pull me out of my mental abyss, and how- despite everything- I was able to do the same for her as she grieved Nora.

I wonder faintly if she knows about Nora. Knows- if what Gretchen said is true- that her sister is still alive. I doubt it. I have an instinctual feeling that most of the others are blissfully ignorant to the fact that it was more than an accidental plane crash that led us all here. Shelby is wise to it, in some form, at least, as evidenced by the note she slipped me, and in my gut I'm sure Fatin knows more than she's let on, even if the trust I saw in her eyes as she looked at me when we first met up is my only form of evidence. Call it a hunch. But like I said; I'm always right.

Reunions continue all around me. Few words are spoken- enough is said through each embrace to fill pages, books, eternities. And we are all so confused, so worn down from all we've endured, that there isn't much we can say aloud. I notice Toni touching Shelby's newly shaved head.

"I like it." Toni says, her voice filled with her familiar teasing. Shelby gives her the ghost of a smile.

By now the other boys have arrived. I recognize Raf, and there is an unspoken question in his gaze as his kind eyes meet mine. With him are two other boys. I'm sure that neither of them are Seth, which makes them Ivan and Josh. It's easy to tell who is who- Ivan exudes a sort of shrewdness and confidence, and Josh exudes very little; if at all. It's as if he himself doesn't know his own identity.

The atmosphere is charged- the warmth of friends seeing each other once more tainted by fear, anxiety and uncertainty. I cannot allow myself to give in fully to the rush of joy that being back with everyone brings. I knew something was wrong with the island from the first night when I heard the ring of Jeanette's second phone, and though I was made to feel crazy for it, I was right.

My whole life I've always known when something was wrong. From my suicidal fish to the entirety of the bullshit farce of the Dawn of Eve- my gut has never failed me. And I have that same sinking feeling now. I felt so confident earlier in the day; so certain my call to Ian would ensure the downfall of this fucked up human experiment we were all forced into… but now the dread takes over me more fully.

Without warning, the music stops. Spotlights illuminate the podium situated on the stage. No one stands behind it currently, but I have a pretty good idea who is about to come out and speak to us. I face the others, my eyes narrowed.

"Whatever the fuck she says, do not trust her." I instruct them, unable to hide the venom in my tone.

Gretchen doesn't step onto the stage as I expect her to, but her voice fills the room regardless; playing over some sort of speaker.

"Welcome to the revolution."

I ball my hands into fists, my fingernails digging into my flesh. Just hearing Gretchen Klein fills me with a white hot rage. She continues, oblivious to the turmoil we are all going through.

"This is where the bleak present becomes the bright future."

The others are looking around in confusion. I wonder if anyone else has met Gretchen during their time here, or if they all still only know her as the Doctor from the informational videos.

"Look around at your remarkable partners. You are the promise of a new world. And now… we begin."

A brass fanfare plays. Raf and I exchange glances, and I brace myself, prepared for Gretchen to enter. But nothing happens.

"What the hell is this?" I mutter, panic rising in my chest. "Where is she?!" I turn around toward the others. "We have to find her." Nobody moves, and I feel my pulse racing, my blood pounding in my ears. The feeling of foreboding in my gut reaches a peak. "Now! Right fucking now!"

I don't waste any more time.I head toward the double doors. Behind me, I hear Fatin's voice.

"Where she goes, we go."

Mentally I thank god for Fatin as my friends heed her instruction and follow me out of the fucked-up prom room.

Distantly I hear Scotty asking the boys if it's a good idea to listen to me, and Raf assuring them all that I can be trusted. I mentally thank god for him too.

We move as one now, rushing through the hallways. I yank open a door, already knowing what I'll find. And I'm right. I'm always fucking right. The room is a wreck. Contents destroyed. Papers and devices shredded or broken. We open door after door. Each room is the same. I stare into what was once Gretchen's office, nearly shaking with anger as I survey what remains. My throat feels like it's closing up and I have to force the words out.

"Where the fuck is she?"

There is no answer. Nobody has one.

We continue to run through the halls, eventually going up a stairwell. After what feels like an eternity I push open a door and find myself blinking as I'm greeted by unexpected light. When my eyes adjust, I see where we are. We're outside, on a sort of patio balcony And beyond that…

An island.

For the first time, after all the doubt and fear and confusion, I pray that I am crazy. I pray that I am delusional, that I'm seeing things, that I am truly, deeply and unequivocally clinically insane. That I am not here. Again.

I barely register the others standing beside me. I can hardly form a cohesive thought. Anger courses through my veins. And then there is a crackling sound, and music begins to play over a loudspeaker hooked up to the side of the building.

It takes me a moment to identify the song.

Personal Jesus.

My brain swirls, and only one word floods through my mind.

No.

No.

No!

It repeats over and over. The denial. The complete and utter denial. It takes over every inch of my existence, until I don't know anything except for my horror, my anguish. The word 'no' pounds itself into my skull, louder and louder. It tears through my heart, ripping me in two, consuming me. I don't even notice when I begin to scream.