"Jack! Jack wake up!" Rae was yelling, shaking him with a much greater force than he expected from her small frame. He liked his grip, his hands on his arm, her eyes bearing into his, concern written over her face. He pretended to stay asleep, hoping she'd keep grabbing him. Then she started hitting him with a pillow to make him wake up.

"RAE! Stop it! I'm awake!" he laughed. Laughter. The word seemed so alienated, ostracized, and segregated from some other word, such as "hideous" or "malicious", words with which it was commonly paired. He liked how she made him feel… like a good person. Like he wasn't always horrible.

"WELL MAYBE," she said, hiding her obvious concern and fear, "you should stop playing opossum and act like you have some sense!"

He grinned at her, an unfamiliar pull of the muscles. He was usually smirking or beaming at someone else's misfortune. "I don't."

She handed him some clothes and he realized that he had been in a hospital gown (white). He ripped it off in front of her, but for her sakes, she didn't see anything.

"JACK!" she yelled, anger and embarrassment coloring her features. She was one of the innocent girls. But innocence, he always destroyed it. Her. What if he destroyed--- no. He couldn't.

He finally put his clothing on and realized that Rae was no longer with him. Out of an open window he saw her, sitting on the tree branch waiting for him. She was insane. She had to be. They were at least on the third floor. But… maybe "insane" isn't the word the protagonist prefers? Perhaps she was "brave." Yes. Brave. He remembered that about her.

"Coming, Jack?" she asked, an inquisitive and devious twinkle in her eye and those perfect lips spread into a large-than-life grin that somehow fit on the petite little face.

"We're just LEAVING? Not asking for PERMISSION? We're just gonna go?" she couldn't be serious, could she? Could she really pull him out of this comfort zone? This room where he could be Jack, the Chief, or Jack the Shell? "Seriously?"

"Why. So. Serious?" she mimicked the Joker. A smile crossed his face. She was so funny. Always. He remembered that too.

They climbed out of the room, down the tree, and took off running when they hit the ground. They laughed, collapsing in front of an old school. She lay on the ground attempting to breathe, to catch her breath. He remembered she wasn't extremely athletic, but she tried, and it made her seem cute. He wanted to lean over her and kiss her but… what if the Chief came out biting her? What if he inflicted some other absurd and disturbing act of "affection." He just wanted to cradle and hold her.

But.. in a sense he had just met her . The more he remembered, the more he liked. Could a shell of a person love? Was he a shell of his former self? And could he ever truly be complete?

He looked over at her—or to where she had been. Where did that crazy girl go? She was always so… spontaneous. Oh. My. Gosh. He thought, realizing she had climbed on top of that school's roof and was sitting on the edge, hugging her jacked against her. But why should he be surprised?

"Jaaaaack! Get up here! Nowwww!" she called. He couldn't resist that playful and yet pleading tone.

He climbed to where she was perched and stared around him. But why was he here? How was this place important? He examined his surroundings and noticed a swing set, which his mind associated with… crying?

A smaller Jack leaned by a swing set, talking to another boy about the proper way to sing and a smaller Rae ran up in tears.

"Jack he's doin' it again!" little Rae cried.

""Who's doin' what, Rae?" Normally he had to act like a jerk around the GIRLS, but not Rae. Rae was special. She was different. And crying.

"Roger keeps chasin' me with bugs!" Rae cried. She was, after all, slightly traumatized of bugs. "Hit him!"

The rest of the memories of the school came back as he looked around. Sometimes she was there; sometimes he simply was left to wish he was. So he had always felt this way about her?

"So… this is how I'm supposed to remember, Rae?"

"I dunno…" she said, "did it work?"

"Y-yeah" he looked away blushing, and he didn't know why.

She put a hand on his shoulder, "C'mon, we have to get back or they'll know I kidnapped you." But he couldn't hear her, she was touching him again. But why just his shoulder? Why not his neck, or chest, or something? And why did he care?

"What did you say, Rae?" He almost commented on the rhyme until—

"DON'T you dare say it! Yes it rhymes! And it also rhymes with 'Hey!'" she went on, exasperated. She was so cute when she was annoyed. "I said we have to go back, and we can sneak back out tomorrow."

He grinned at her. She blushed and looked away. Maybe it was mutual? Then she took off running, yelling "Race ya!"

He let her win.

He had another dream that night. His worse.

"Bring me a drink." He ordered. The responded like dogs to their pack leader, with an instantaneous and automatic, almost mechanic quality. The roasting pig reeked of savagery and the fire cast evil shadows. Like systematic Nazi's they all moved in their particular fashions. Part of the dance.

The Chief was covered in his paints: blacks, reds, green, masking and destroying whoever he had been. A scream shot out and a figure jumped from the woods. They "assumed it was the beast. The screaming and hitting and chanting gave them the appeal of lions pouncing on their prey. They knew now what they were doing. They recognized nothing but their chant. Their creed.

"KILL THE PIG! SLIT HER THROAT! BASH HER IN!" The fire shot beams of light, illuminating the hell that had become the island, where the Chief, corrupted by the Lord of the Flies, sat watching his demons. The sky was still black. The bodies crammed into a dense ball. The blood. When they pulled away they knew there had been no beast.

And the screams echoed on.