Young Writers Society

Will stared at the man in quiet determination. The flicker of anger that had driven him all afternoon had gotten subdued suddenly, leaving him utterly and absolutely exhausted. There were a lot of questions and accusations that he could bring up in that moment, but he knew it wouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter because he didn't care anymore, he couldn't. So he raised his eyes once again and asked the only question that mattered.

"What do you want Frank? What is your endgame here?"

He smiled softly, calmly; as if he was dealing with an oblivious child, ignorant of the ways of the world. "I want to find out the truth, Will. I want to understand. I mean, aren't you curious at all about our situation here? Don't you want to know the reason behind this all? Behind us being brought here like this?"

Will sighed, "I just want to get out. I don't care beyond that."

Again, that same infuriating, understanding smile. "Well, then, you gave up hope a long time ago. And I don't think the island had anything to do with that."

"What are you doing here?" she hissed loudly into the dark as she tried not to trip over the next log.
"What do you think I am doing here?" She couldn't see him, but she could imagine the sneer on his face and feel the annoyance in his words.
"Following me!"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I am doing."
"Well, stop doing it!"
Even as she said the words, she grabbed his arm to steady herself when the ground dipped suddenly beneath their footfalls.
"Not a chance." He sounded smug.
"Listen, I know you want to beat the hell out of him for what he did to you, but this is not the way, James."
His steps faltered for a moment and she was about to turn around in enquiry when his voice shook up the silence again.
"Is that why you think I am traversing through the jungle in the middle of the night with no back up? To beat up a guy who will be brought to me himself, bright and early tomorrow morning?"
Now, it was her turn to pause.
"Well, then, what are you doing?"
This time she could hear his smirk. "I thought we already cleared that line of questioning."
She shifted her weight in annoyance and put her palm up against his chest to prevent him from walking on. "I mean why are you doing this?"
Now that they had both stopped moving, she could make out the faint line of his features under the moonlight. He was looking at her with an undecipherable expression and she wished there was more light so that she could understand the meaning behind it.
"No reason," he finally said and looked away.
She sighed, tiredly. "You are usually a better liar, James."
He grinned, and she got the amusement on his face in a single glance this time.
"Well, I've had a long day."

"How did he know?"
Will shrugged, unconcerned by the sudden spark of fire in her eyes.
"He is surprisingly perceptive when it comes to you."
Sara raised an eyebrow, "He straight out invaded my privacy, Will!"
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other in slight agitation, as if this was a conversation he would rather not be having.
"Technically, he just read behind the lines. I don't think -"
He dropped the sentence midway at the glare that was immediately directed at him.
"Well, he read between my lines. He knew I didn't want him to interfere, but he did it anyways. How is that not an invasion of my privacy?"
Will held up his arms in mock surrender, "Hey, don't sue me! But feel free to pick up that argument with him. At least, it'll be entertaining for the rest of us."
He smirked in knowing amusement and she decided she did not like it one bit.

"And after everything, I wonder - is there anybody who pities you more than you pity yourself? I mean that's what you look for in people, right? Pity and sympathy to cover the horrible, ugly scars you inflicted upon yourself and everyone around you. So I wonder if it makes it any easier for you? Or if it makes you forget for a single short moment that you are the reason your brother is dead."
She watched the punch land in her gut as she swallowed and took a step back absently. She smirked at her, deriving a strange kind of satisfaction at the momentary shock twisting her face into an almost comical expression.
She supposed it would come across as a surprise to her, to all of them as well, that she knew each of their deepest, darkest secrets; secrets they probably did not remember keeping themselves. She could narrate their whole lives, fabricate stories and warp the truth to whatever shape or form she liked and they would have no option but to listen and believe in silent horror.
She watched Sara take in a deep breath and realized from the steel in her expression that she was preparing for battle. And Beth anticipated it, she welcomed it with an yearning excitement that made the heart in her chest pump loud and clear, reminding her once again that she was breathing, she was alive and she was ready.
"What happened?" She smirked, "Cat got your tongue?"
Sara smiled and it chilled her bones.
"I'm sorry. I was just wondering what happened that made you hate yourself so much," she said softly, apologetically as though she was feeling sorry for her. "You see, my mother used to tell me that whatever is inside, is what we are desperately trying not to show on the outside. Maybe its because we are ashamed or scared and terrified of rejection, but there is no way you can pull the lid on it forever. Because you see, the things inside us - they form the core our lives are based around; they fill us up and they make us who we are."
She took another step forward, her expression cool and composed. And yet there was a hardness in her eyes that shook Beth, that made her stand there in rapt silence, hanging on to every word she said. And Sara seemed to have plenty to say.
"But inside you Beth, its just hatred, isn't it? Its just pure black resentment that knows no limit or compromise. Its just always there, swirling like an unending storm, suffocating you from the inside, snuffing out all other emotions until hate is all you feel, for yourself and the world. Now I don't know what happened that made you this way and honestly I am not at all interested in learning, understanding or even thinking about you. But before you start psychoanalyzing me, I suggest you take a long look at the mirror. And if you can deal with the ugliness reflected back at you, then you are welcome to come and discuss mine."