Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or Hurley. Although if I did I would be a very happy fanfic writer.

Summary: Hurley's past in a mental institution has been a secret from the castaways, but when the problems that landed him there begin to plague him again, how will he and the others cope?

Notes: I wrote this during my vacation. Yes I know, I can't get away from fanfic writing even on the beach in Europe! I must be addicted. This is going to explain the reasons why Hurley was in a mental hospital and also why he was 'chosen' to be on the island.

Even Clowns Can Be Crazy

It was evening now, and the sun was sinking below the horizon at a slow and stubborn pace. It was almost as if the sun was afraid of the darkness to come.

And this being monster island and all, Hurley couldn't blame it.

He was sitting at the beach, and listening to his music through his headphones, his usual activity this late in the day. The sound of Coldplay was echoing in his ears and somehow it was exactly what he pictured the soundtrack to the island would be. Every now and then someone would walk by carrying some firewood or a newly filled bottle of water, but most of the people were settled in for the night in their designated places.

"Night Hurley." Said a voice from off to his left. He barely heard it over the music. He turned his head and noticed Charlie waving to him with one hand and struggling to carry two full water bottles with the other.

"Night Dude, stay cool." He said matter-of-factly.

"You too mate." He replied and started down the beach towards his and Claire's tents. "Bollocks!" Hurley heard him mutter as he nearly dropped the water bottles into the ocean.

"That dude's gotta chill out." Hurley muttered and removed the headphones from his head. He moved to situate himself in a comfortable sleeping position and eventually settled for lying on his side with a balled up t-shirt as his pillow. He breathed a heavy sigh in and out and closed his eyes.

And that's when he heard it.

"Help us. Please help us."

He resisted opening his eyes but he couldn't keep from feeling the chill that decided to run down his spine.

"Help us, please."

He opened his eyes immediately and sat up. He looked down the beach to his right and saw nothing unusual. Then he did the same with his left side, also finding nothing out of the ordinary. He stopped for a moment and blinked his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

"Help us…" Just as soon as the voices appeared he shot his head around to face behind him, towards the jungle. As usual, he saw nothing but darkness.

"Aw dudes, not again." He put his hands over his eyes and rubbed them. He slowly laid himself back down and swallowed the bad taste that was suddenly in his mouth. With great caution, he reached for his headphones and put his music on full blast.

Arms crossed over his chest in a defiant gesture, Hurley tried to convince himself that this time was different then the last time. It had to be. He was stranded on a deserted island, they couldn't find him here.

Could they?