Love and Revenge
SabbathBloodySabbath27
AIM: PrisonerofWarX27
Disclaimer: Lord of the Flies and all characters, events, and situations related to the book are the products of Mr. William Golding's imagination, not mine. I do not claim ownership or affiliation with anybody or anything involving the book, with the exception of this work of fiction.
A/N: This is the sequel to my first Lord of the Flies short story, "Tormented Thoughts." If you would like to get the full story, I would suggest reading it first.
I have been majorly procrastinating finishing this story, because I really didn't like it at all. I've done some major editing, and I think I've smashed it into presentable form, at least all that I could do to get it up by the time I said I would.
Also, the rating has been upped to "M" on this story, due to some very graphic scenes, blah, blah, blah.
Please read and review!
Ralph was deep in thought as he lay on his back, his head at the foot of the bed. The fair-headed boy had been troubled with the same thoughts for the three-and-a-half weeks that it had been since he saw Jack Merridew in a councilor's office in downtown London.
In all honesty, they were actually the same thoughts that had tormented him for several months, not just since the rescue, but since Simon's murder…but they had become even more intense recently.
Ralph could never forget the look in the tall boy's eyes as he threatened to kill him. "Look, 'Chief,'" he had said, "we may not be on that bloody island anymore, but I'm still stronger than you. And I could still kill you, just like that nutter, Simon. Don't mess with me, fool."
Ralph still found it hard to believe how calmly he had said this, almost as though he had been bragging about what he had done to young Simon, like he hadn't cared that he had killed someone.
Bloodshed seemed to be Jack Merridew's driving force. As long as people were suffering…as long as he had control over other human beings…as long as he was responsible for someone's sadness, pain, or death, Jack was happy.
What Ralph had the toughest time figuring out, though, was why the bloody hell he had cared so much about Simon.
Piggy was killed, too, of course, but he found himself thinking much less about him for some bloody reason.
He had even hardly known Simon. Nobody had. He had never told anybody anything about him; Ralph wasn't even sure how old he had been.
So how could he care so much for a boy he didn't even know? It was far beyond the boy's "gift," his ability to look into someone's eyes and know everything about them. I was far beyond the boy's quiet and reserved, yet caring and loyal personality; although Ralph knew he would have given anything to help a friend. It was far beyond his incredible intelligence and wisdom.
…Or maybe it was for these reasons that Ralph had liked Simon so much, at least partially. He knew there was something more, though…something deeper, like it was sitting in the bottom of a well.
…And the only way to get to the bottom of the well is to take all the water from the top first.
All of Ralph's thoughts muddled together as he felt sleep begin to overtake him. Finding rest a relief from his mental torture, he encouraged it willingly, and soon he found himself dreaming, although his own conscience wasn't necessarily the refuge he sought.
Ralph watched in horror has he saw Jack on top of Simon, spear in head, slashing at the young boy's chest. He thought about emerging from the jungle brush in which he hid and attacking Jack, but without a weapon he would no doubt be killed, as well.
All he could do was watch as Simon's legs kicked and swung, then went still. Jack jabbed his spear into his victim's flesh once more, then stood up, covered from head to foot in blood, to reveal the smaller lad's body, at least what was left of it. The murderer had ripped his heart out and was holding it in his hands, no longer feeling its life-supporting beat. Simon's intestines were sprawled on the sand around his body, and Jack began to collect them and shove them into the nearly hollow corpse to dump it into the ocean. Ralph closed his eyes and wept silently, praying to any God there may be that what he had just witnessed hadn't been real and was just a dream…a dream he should awake from at any moment.
When we awoke, Simon would be lying aside him in the shelter they had built, his steady breathing calming Ralph as he tried to forget the horrid nightmare.
"Okay!" he shouted from the brushes, spreading his arms to the sky in a "V". "I'm ready to wake up now! Let me wake up!"
Ralph awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding and his breathing hard. Not since the night of the murder had he had such a graphic reminder of Simon's death, and not since then had he seen the boy's beautiful body.
Seeing him again made Ralph finally realize the real reason for his caring of the boy.
He hadn't just liked Simon, he had loved him. He had loved everything about him…his gift, his personality, his wisdom, his hair, his eyes, his body…Simon had been a beautiful boy.
Being only twelve when he had left the island, the boy had been too young to understand his true feelings for Simon, but now that he did, he also realized his hate for Jack ran deeper than he had thought. That bloody bastard killed the only person Ralph had ever loved, outside his family. He had stolen his love away from him, and now he was even more determined to get his revenge.
…Now he was even more determined to kill Jack Merridew.
During the following several weeks, Ralph worked hard to create a plan to get to Jack, with a weapon suitable for ending his life.
He vividly remembered that Jack had used to brag about the school he attended, where he was chapter chorister and head boy, and he knew that the place was not far from his house. He figured that he would walk there early in the morning and hope to attack his enemy before classes would start.
He had decided from the start that he would murder him in the same fashion that he had killed Simon, so he spent weeks creating a spear in secret. It was made from a branch that had fallen from a tree outside during a recent storm and a small knife that he had nicked from the kitchen while his parents were away.
Within a month, everything was ready. Ralph would soon have his revenge.
Ralph awoke very early in the morning; it was still dark outside. He lay still for a few minutes in the darkness, making sure there were no footsteps coming from downstairs.
As soon as he was confident that his parents were still asleep, he took the spear from where he had hidden it underneath his bed and very quietly and slowly began to walk towards the window, which sat on the far side of the room. He made sure to step lightly so that any squeaky boards he might happen to walk over wouldn't wake anybody, and as he approached the window to open it, he did so extremely carefully, lifting the wooden frame just far enough for him to crawl through.
Ralph thought about just tossing the spear to the ground, then climbing down the lattice that hung on the side of the house, but he quickly dismissed the idea when he though about what might happen if he fell onto it.
Instead he decided to hold the weapon in one hand and climb with the other. He indeed ran a greater risk of falling that way, but if he did, he would land on the grassy lawn below, as opposed to the dreadfully sharp blade of the spear.
He hadn't counted on that lattice being so bloody hard to climb down.
Ralph waited patiently in a tree that sat aside the school, sore from his tumble of almost the entire story from his bedroom window to the ground. As he fell, he managed to cut his hand with his spear, which was now sitting in his lap. From where he was hiding, he could see everything from the sidewalk in front of the school to the front doors of the place, so he would surely see Jack coming, as long as he kept watch.
The sun was just beginning to rise, and Ralph guessed the first boys would be arriving in about half and hour.
"I wonder if they'll miss me at school," he thought, dully noting that he should be in his own classes in an hour. He shook his head. "Nah, they probably won't even know I'm gone. Well, sucks to them and their education."
The first boy to walk up the sidewalk to the school, Ralph noted, was Roger. At least he thought it was Roger, but it was so hard to tell without the paint. Really, for all he knew, it could've been Maurice or Bill or somebody he had never seen before who hadn't even been on the island.
Ralph knew he was a choirboy, though, because he was wearing the same pin on his black cap as all of Jack's crew had been right after the plane crash. It was silver, just like all of the others', except Jack's. His, being chapter chorister, of course, was gold, marking him as leader of the choir.
Ralph remembered that Simon had once been a member of the choir...that he had once worn one of those ridiculous square caps with a pin. Why he had left Jack and sided with him, Ralph would never in his life be sure, but he couldn't help but think that if he hadn't, things might've been different. If he hadn't left Jack, Simon might never have lost his life to the monster.
Ralph had been watching a group of choirboys talk when a glimmer of gold caught his eye. He looked around frantically to see from where it had come when he saw him. Jack Merridew was walking up the sidewalk, the gold pin on his cap shining in the early morning sun.
Ralph jumped from the tree and took off at a dead sprint towards his redheaded target. When he was within a spit's reach of him, he sprung at the tall boy, tackling him and forcing him underneath him. As boys began to gather around the scene, Ralph wielded his spear at Jack's throat.
"Why did you do it?" he spat, looking down into his enemy's cold blue eyes. "Why did you kill Simon?"
"Isn't funny," Jack said calmly, a steely gaze fixed upon his attacker, how you have to stage a surprise attack to kill me, when I could've shown up at your door any day of the week and killed you with my bare hands?"
"Why did you do it?" Ralph shouted, pressing the metal tip of his homemade weapon into Jack's skin.
"Why should I tell you," he snarled, still staring at Ralph, "when you're going to kill me, anyway?"
"Damn you, Jack Merridew," the smaller boy mumbled as he shoved his spear through his victim's chest and began swinging it frantically, ripping through clothing and tearing through flesh and muscle. "You stole him from me," he murmured over and over as his attack raged on and on, blood splattering into his eyes, nose, and mouth. He didn't stop, though, because Jack was finally getting what he deserved, and he wanted to make sure he got every bit of it. Ralph swung and swung, digging deeper into the boy's body.
Ralph finally had Jack's life at his fingertips, the power to decide his fate. He didn't care if he was already dead. He knew he had stopped breathing minutes ago, but he kept swinging, hoping that wherever he was he was still feeling every ounce of the pain of having his insides ripped out of his body, the same pain that he had put innocent Simon through. He wanted Jack to know how it feels to have his heart pulled right out of his chest. He wanted him to know how it feels to have his intestines lying out feet from his body.
When Ralph finally ripped through Jack's back and into the grass underneath, he began bashing at his skull, because he wanted him to know how it feels to have his brain smashed apart at the hand of someone else's rage…at the hand of someone else's power. He wanted Jack to know how it feels to be under someone's control, and now that he had, there was no point in going on.
Ralph arose from the tall redheaded boy's corpse, covered with blood, stomach fluids, and pieces of heart and brain. As he looked around, he saw the boy's internal organs and muscles spread out all around him. He looked down at the shell that remained of Jack's chest and stomach areas, and he saw that hardly anything remained of his skull.
"What have I done?" the fair-headed boy said aloud as his body began to shake uncontrollably. He picked up his bloody spear and struggled to hold it steady. "Simon wouldn't have wanted it to come to this…ever."
With that, the boy shoved the weapon through his own chest, and as everything began to fade to black, the last thing Ralph saw going through his head as an image of his love, the beautiful Simon.
The End
A/N: I am deeply sorry for taking so damn long on this thing, but due to some terminal PC problems, I have just now been able to get it finished.
I know some of you were hoping for a happy ending. Well…sorry about that. Heh.
At any rate, please read and review. This is the first major work I've actually finished, so I'd like to know what you guys think about my writing.
Thanks for reading.