Fishing

[Neuphim†]

The end of the fishing rod impacts on the surface of of the marsh's water, it's slight resonation apparent to Heath, as he ponders his situation, just as he did four days past. He has yet to catch a damn thing. And he is damn hungry.

So, what can I do? If I plan to leave this island, that would entail me murdering other individuals just like me. For all I know, I'd kill a future father, a mother, maybe even more so. And I know these people. Not all that well, I mean, but I know them. I mean, couldn't do that it'd contradict my own principals, and I'll live by them, and in unfortunate complication, die by it as well.

In real life, he sighs while looking at picture of his brother, rod still in hand. The iconic smile of his returns, as he remembers, before all this bullshite ever happened, of what once was. Memories of past escapades circling through his head, ranging of that night when they hitched train to Portland, and would've kept on going if it weren't for the fuzz or just those times when we come up with new club rules that range from 'no body less cooler than four is allowed' and 'admitting that True Romance wasn't an awesome film will resort to a swift kick in the face' both of which were Heath's laws. He continues thinking, with that smile slowly fading along the way.

Sorry, mate, but I can't break my principals. Well, neither of us can, now that I think of it. I know, it's selfish of me to do something like that to you. I'm your last link of a family. Last link to our parents-

A single tear gushed out with that lingering thought. Just as that happened, he couldn't help remembering from that incident. He hates this more over than anything else. Mostly because it's his only memory of his parents. And that he is obsessive about it.

I was in the Kitchen fiddling around with this toy that I liked. I forgot what it was, now that I think about it. Anyway, this was around the time my brother was born, So my parents were dead stone tired by the time I woke up. I think it was around the afternoon when it started and I was watching tv. My mother and father were wide awake around this time. I heard my father's footsteps through the hallway in front of me and then this deafening screech ran through the house. The noise was so bad that all my muscles clenched, my ears screaming banshee notes, and my brain slowly draining away. I closed my eyes, hoping it'd cease this unflinching symphony.

Finally, after about three minutes, and opened my eyes and my childhood ended, as I gazed upon my parents, side to side each other. When I rushed over to their bodies, my body felt extremely numb and I feel ill. As I descended to the floor, and I'll never forget this, I heard laughter. No, not joyous laughter, but that evil mastermind type of laugh. The type of laugh used by a rat bastard that killed my parents. I laid there on the floor helpless, as my brother cried in the background, for a mother that'll never be able to hold him. And a father who he'll never ask if it'd be a good idea to ask a girl out for prom. Never. ...My god. Why the fuck would the damn police consider this an accident? I just don't-

With single tear multiply to many, over these last few minutes, Heath barely noticed that for the last 20 seconds that his fishing rod has bobbing up and down. When he realizes this, he put away his brother's picture into his jacket pocket and tugs the rod with a forceful two-hand pull. And just like that, after days of trying and failures, he caught something. A big'em at that. A 10 incher! Heath looked at the still wriggling fish with a sense of pity. He had a brief but effective thought that he quickly dismissed and Heath knew what'd be best at that moment. With the fish still attach to hook, he fishes out the map from his bag.

Might as well try to help someone in the present... and get this sucker grilled at the.... yeah, the mess hall should work.

(continues on to Sadist)