Days on the Island: 3, 7 PM
I hate to say it, but I don't know how much more of this I can take. Jack's barely speaking, when Shrapnel Man isn't bellowing and swearing he's leering at me and calling me 'Sweetheart,' (which is really kind of disturbing), and the others are asking me a million questions ever time I step out of the tent.
I was getting water earlier when Boone approached me and asked how Shrapnel Man was doing.
"He's breathing." I shrugged. A loud scream came from the tent. "Which I suppose is saying a lot right now." Boone and I stared at the tent, both of us probably thinking the same thing. Hell, I think the whole island had to be thinking it. Someone should just put him out of his misery. I had started to bring it up with Jack earlier, but quickly realized he was a 'it isn't over 'till it's over' kind of guy, not that I was too surprised.
"Is there anything I can do?" Boone asked.
I smiled. He was such a nice guy. How the hell did he end up with the Bitch from the Black Lagoon as a sister?
"Thanks, but I think we've got it under control. Jack will save him," I said with more conviction than I felt.
"I once saved a girl from being crushed by a mob at one of my concerts," Charlie said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He paused and looked at both of us expectantly. "I was in a band," he explained.
"Yes, Charlie. We know," I replied, annoyed and headed back to the tent.
I've heard him tell five different people he was in a band. Okay, Charlie, we get it. You used to be a rock star. What do you want a freaking medal? This is not living up to my high school fantasy of being stranded on a desert island with a rock star…or Leonardo DiCaprio.
Yeah…I went through a Titanic phase in high school.