A/N See! I told you I would finish this story! It's coming along quickly now. PLEASE don't forget to review, guys! It's another long one – or at least longer than my usual chapters. Remember my little contest :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies or its characters.

Cry: To shed tears as an expression of distress or pain.

The next morning, I woke up in my own shelter, my last four friends scattered about. My eyes were heavy and tired, and they felt red and puffy from all the tears shed just hours before. The sun was shining high, meaning it was about mid afternoon. The first afternoon that Simon would never see.

The events of last night were all just a blur now. Going to Jack's fire. Dancing with the savages. Murdering poor, innocent, young Simon. The shock on everyone's faces when we were through – well, the shock on every face except for two. I remembered Ralph grabbing my hand and dragging me away from the murder site when all of the littluns burst into tears. He and Piggy walked on either side of me back to our camp as I bawled my eyes out. I remember seeing Ralph cry quite a bit, too. Piggy seemed to regret the actions of the night, but I didn't see a tear shed.

We were murderers. Everyone on this island. Except maybe the twins – I wasn't sure if they had left the fire early which is what they claimed. However, we claimed the same thing.

We took the life of a little boy who, albeit being slightly wacky was a sweet and kind boy, who wanted nothing more than to be our friend and help us get back home. He was one of the only supporters Ralph had left, forever loyal that lad was.

I began crying again, hoping that Simon was getting nothing but the best treatment wherever he was now.

Ralph, who had been laying down, lifted himself up to sit beside me. Silently, he laid his head on my shoulder. He was crying, too. I took his hand in mine, hoping to give him whatever comfort I could.

Piggy walked up to us, away from the fire he had been tending. Bright eyed, and not a single sign of sadness, he sat on the ground across from Ralph and I.

"Simon," Ralph whispered into my shoulder.

"What'd you say?" Piggy questioned.

"Simon," Ralph repeated, louder this time. His voice was hoarse and thick with emotion.

Piggy stayed silent. Ralph moaned and lifted his head.

"Oh, what are we going to do?" He asked pathetically.

"You could call an assembly," Piggy suggested.

Ralph laughed the laugh of a broken boy, "What? For the two of you and the twins?"

"You're still Chief."

Ralph continued laughing.

"You are," I chimed in, "over us."

Ralph grabbed the conch and began skipping in fake glee, exclaiming, "I've got the conch! I've got the conch!"

"Ralph!" Piggy stood, upset now, "Stop that! There ain't no need!"

Ralph stopped in mid skip, letting the conch fall onto the sand.

"That was Simon."

"You already said that." I rolled my eyes at Piggy. Ralph was going through post-traumatic stress disorder, but the fat boy just didn't realize.

"That was murder."

It was the first time any of us had said it aloud. A new wave of tears began for me as Ralph and Piggy fought about whose fault it really was. Ralph seemed ready to take the blame for all of it, but Piggy kept shifting the blame onto someone else – Jack and his tribe, the dance, Simon for being batty enough to crawl out of the woods during a tribal feast. The fire went out due to the lack of attention. The twins were at the bathing pool, so I felt I needed to do something instead of sit around and mope.

"Ralph," I croaked, interrupting the argument.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to get some more firewood," I nodded at the makeshift pit.

"Oh," he responded, "I hadn't even noticed. Yes, go do that."

I rolled myself off of the structure and trudged into the woods. I wandered for a bit, trying to clear my head. I eventually found myself in Simon's thicket. The only difference was that now a decaying pig head on a stake stood in the middle of the clearing, thousands of little flies buzzing around it. I don't know how long I was there for before I heard the voice that sent shivers down my spine – and not in a good way.

"Well hey there," came the intimidating voice of my older brother as he crouched down to level with me.

I considered running, but the spear in his hand painted with fresh blood warned me otherwise.

"Hey," I slowly began to stand, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down.

"I was just about to leave," I told him. His evil grin told me I wouldn't be doing anything of the sort.

"Well isn't that nice. You were just about to leave." I heard some sniggers from either side of me. I turned to them to see two more savages.

"Now, I would let you go," his eyes tore into mine, "but see, I can't disobey orders. And, well, you being here just makes the job that much easier."

"Wha-" I tried to protest as the other two savages grabbed either wrist and began them together with creepers. I tried to scream out, but before I could, Roger had stuffed the remnants of what I assumed what a choir robe in my mouth and tied it in tightly with a creeper of his own. The fabric was dirty and old and the fumes made me start to cry. I struggled against my bindings, but it was no use.

"Now walk," he commanded me. I took my right foot and kicked him right in between the legs. The moment of confusion was enough for me to break loose of the other savages who held me back. I ran as fast as I could, but fell when a spear was whacked across my head. I hit the ground hard due to the fact I had no arms to break my fall. My eyesight was blurry from the hard hit to the head. Standing over me was one of the painted savages I couldn't recognize.

"Robert," Roger approached us, "nice going. I'll be sure to put in a good word to the Chief."

The savage, who was apparently Robert, looked as elated as could be. Roger himself now bent down again and loomed over me darkly.

"You thought you had us there, didn't you?" He asked rhetorically, "What's wrong, cat got your tongue?" He chuckled darkly.

He was taunting me. The other two boys began tying my feet together as Roger had his one sided conversation.

Roger stopped his chuckling and looked me straight in the eye. The beatings, I could take. The emotional abuse, too. But right now, my brother crouching over me with war paint coating his face, blood on his hands and a murder under his belt, I feared for my life. It had become a game of survival and I was destined to die. Fear in my eyes, he lifted his fist and punched me straight in the jaw. Then one in the stomach. One in the eye. One here, one there, one until I couldn't feel them anymore. He picked me up, slung me over his shoulder, and began walking towards the camp.

"I hope the Chief doesn't mind some damaged goods," Robert snickered. I weakly raised my head to send a glare his way, but I was sure it came out more like a look of despair. He looked away from my eyes.

When we got to Castle Rock, Roger walked into a cave near the top. He dropped me ungracefully to the hard ground right onto the feet of Jack Merridew.

"And the glasses?" Jack asked before even acknowledging me. Roger shook his head slightly.

"We found her in the clearing where the offering for the beast was. We'll have to make another trip for the glasses." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Very well. Why don't you go, and choose two more boys as well. Get two Hunters up here to guard the cavern entrance."

Roger nodded his head slightly, saying a quick, "Chief," and leaving the damp cave.

Jack bent down and began to untie my bindings.

"Oh Riley," he sighed, "did we have some problems getting you here? You know, this all could have been avoided if you had come with me in the first place. Or even stayed last night. I mean, I saw how much you were enjoying yourself. So why did you not take me up on my offer?"

I remembered that before the Simon incident that Jack had told me if I stayed he would protect me from my brother. I could feel the bruises forming on my body already and, just for a second, wished I had done as he asked.

Jack pulled the balled up fabric out of my mouth, and I erupted in coughs. My other bindings had been undone, too, so I sat up, immediately feeling better.

"I didn't join you," I stopped to cough a bit more, "because it wasn't right."

He stared intently at me, as I looked away.

"Well, regardless, you're going to be staying here a little while, so you better get used to it."

He angrily stood up after his harsh words and walked out of the cave. Two savages were guarding the outside. I didn't see a way out of this one. So, I did what I do best and cried.

Night had fallen. I saw a fire down on the beach but I couldn't hear any cheering or see any boys, so they must not have caught a pig. I looked quietly at my two guards, noticing that one had fallen asleep his spear at his side. The other one looked rather distracted, I assumed he was looking out for the other boys.

I only had one chance.

I grabbed the spear of the sleeping boy and before the other one noticed, hit him over the head with it. I hoped he was okay as he fell to the ground. I made sure he was breathing before I took off into the forest.

As I ran I repeated "survival" over and over to myself in my head. I wouldn't let myself die here. I would get back to my camp where Ralph and Piggy and the twins would be waiting and by the time the tribe noticed and came to fetch me, we will have moved camps and created weapons and-

I fell to the ground, hard as I bounced off of a solid standing boy. A hand twisted into my hair as I was dragged to my feet. Roger's murderous eyes glared into mine.

"This yours, Chief?" He spun me towards Jack and shoved me away, into Jack's arms. Jack cast me one disappointed look downwards, before looking regretful. He pushed me back towards Roger.

"She may be mine, but she's your plaything for now. Teach her a lesson."

My heart started beating wildly as fear coursed through my body. Roger started dragging me back to the cave while the other boys trailed behind us.

Roger threw me into the cave, but not before kicking the sleeping guard in the head. He bent down and grabbed me by my hair forcefully, forcing my eyes to meet his.

"Hear that, sis? You and I get to play! Just like old times," he gave me a forceful slap for good measure before throwing me down to the ground again. I laid still, knowing how this story went.

"Only this time," Roger continued, "I have some new toys."

He gestured to the spears leaning up against the cave wall and the creeper in his hand.

"Now, you and I are going to play," he started forcefully in his naturally intimidating voice, "until you'll promise to submit to Jack. Got it?"

I barely had the energy to move my toes. And yet, I lifted my head, looked right at him, and said as loudly as I could, "fuck you, Roger."

It barely came out as more than a whisper, but as the makeshift whip came down on my stomach, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

A/N It's getting serious now, guys! So please review, review, review!