That's It

[Little Boy†]

Jay returned to America with a cold.

Despite looking impossibly big on the outside, the plane was hot and stuffy, entirely too small. Crammed into it, the survivors of Bayview numbered twenty nine in all, the STAR taskforce making up the difference in seats. Jay didn't make a fuss. His cold was acting up, and his throat was hurting like a bitch. He didn't feel all that talkative, and he doubted any of the others would want to press their luck and goad him into a conversation. As he stood in the aisle, throwing a small duffel bag into the overhead compartment, a thought suddenly entered his mind. Jay's mind began to race, his hands shooting to his jean pocket instinctively, concern plain on his face. Digging deep down he began to rummage through the change and random items, giving an irritated huff.

"Shit!"

Then, as suddenly as the emotion had first taken hold, it all clicked back into place. He didn't have his Tamagotchi. He hadn't lost it; he'd given it to Sarah. It wasn't even called Cheech, it had been Mimi or something boring like that.

Jay allowed himself a small chuckle, before continuing to pack his things. He'd gotten so used to taking care of the damned thing at the hospital that he still considered it his, that he actually had felt concern at the idea of forgetting it.

Found it in the sand, had it on the ship and in the hospital. How long is that? A few days only? I don't know. Fuck it. We're all rich now; I could just buy another one if I wanted. A Cheech and a Chong, hell, why not?

Jay sighed, shuffling into his seat and shaking his head. His momentary loss of composure had more than likely been noted, by both STAR and the other survivors. But he didn't care. It wasn't anything serious, no matter what the others thought up.

Why the fuck do they have to be so interested in what I do? Is it just because I survived? Oh yeah, I've joined an elite club. Who else can say they're the Fittest? Maybe they're studying my poop, to breed genetically modified humans.

Yeah. Right. I never even realized there was a rescue going on until I walked right into it. They wouldn't want another of me, haha.

Jay broke off that train of thought, refusing to follow through. He didn't want to become that person, the lonely nobody, agonizing over his own survival. As long as he remained on this earth, he had to have some merit, something to give, not to take. Regretting, thinking on the island, it was selfish. It was selfish, and cowardly.

Suits me..., but I can't let it happen.

It was a sombre experience, making his way through the crowded airport, re-entering civilization. As insane as it was, Jay had grown fond of the hospital. It was seclusion in every sense of the word, nothing to do, no one to talk to. Yet at the same time, no one to answer to.

Travelling back to St. Paul there had been reporters, even if STAR had tried to keep them away. People had looked and stared. Not like the hospital at all. At the hospital they noticed, but didn't intervene. A little creepy, but creepy was better then being outright molested by the media.

Jay was stupid, but he wasn't naive. He knew the press core would be waiting in Saint Paul. People would want him to talk, sign autographs, write books and appear on talk shows. All the mediocre bullshit associated with being famous. If he wanted the cash, he'd have to deal with that.

Jay gritted his teeth together, sifting through his thoughts. What did he want? Did he want the money? Did he deserve any of it?

"Anyone have any gum?" He called out abruptly.

He didn't know what he was going to do. It wasn't like he'd intended to be anything important, or do anything good with his life. Could he stay in Saint Paul? He'd like that, if he could make it work.

They know where I live though. Danya could just stroll right in for a cup of tea.

The thought pounded into his gut, grinding into him. Jay leaned back, taking a deep breath. His eyes flickered over to a STAR member, sitting just a few seats away from him. Holster on the hip. His eyes were easy, relaxed. No danger, right?

Still, an uncomfortable thought if there ever was one. Shit had happened on the Island. Terrible shit, pointless brutality, directed by people so full of malice that Jay could barely believe they existed. They had complete control- it would have been impossible for the boats to escape, unless the terrorists had been distracted somehow. What did that mean?

Jay didn't know. He didn't know if he wanted to know.

If one of those fuckers died for me, I'm going to scream my lungs out.

Jay rubbed his neck, half expecting to feel his collar. STAR had fucked up Danya's operation. That meant they would be pissed off.

They know where I live. They can come back for me. Wouldn't that be fun?

STAR wouldn't let that happen. He was in safe hands now. Whatever had happened, it was over. What interest would Terrorists have with a useless stoner from Saint Paul?

What if they don't just do it for kicks? What if they have like, a religious obligation or something, to kill us? They put Adam Dodd back in the game. He won, and they put him back for a second go around. Shit, I couldn't last a second game. Not a chance.

Jay leaned back, trying to still his beating heart. He needed to trust STAR. He was safe. Only the reporters were after him now. He could live normally, he just needed to repeat it enough times, implant it in his mind so he would never forget.

It's all safe now, all quiet. It's cool now. It's going to be fine.

His pulse decreased, but the unease remained. The thought was there, and it was impossible to ignore. Still, he tried his best to avoid letting it show, staring out the window at the runway.

If the shrinks at the hospital had known what he was thinking then, they'd have popped raging psychology boners. Jay smirked at the thought, reclining his seat.

It's all normal again. Please, let's just have it be normal again. All I need.

--------------------------

Jay stepped into his room, a shiver running up his spine. It wasn't from fear, it was a chill. The window had been cracked open, and gusts of cold air had turned what was once his room into a cold crypt.

His mother stood by the doorframe, leaning on it as if she couldn't support her legs. Flanking her were two members of STAR. Jay wasn't sure why their presence was necessary. Documenting his reintegration or something to that effect was the official reason. Jay couldn't get them to leave, and he doubted any number of punches could floor the bastards.

Jay turned back toward his Mom, giving her the best smile he could muster.

"We should probably crank the heat or something." He said.

Their reunion had been... different. Most of the other survivors had family waiting at the airport as well. Reporters had buzzed around, photographing tearful parents embracing mentally scarred kids, like it was some fucked up made for TV movie. Jay had hated it instantly. He'd questioned every single second he'd spent on the Island, hoping for escape.

This is what I wanted?

"Fuck." He'd swore audibly, as the first reporter reached spitting range, extending a microphone towards him like it was some sort of offering.

The noise was dreadful, a symphony of voices shouting over voices, the clicking of cameras and applause.

Wait, applause. Someone is fucking applauding us? What the fuck did we do?

"What the fuck." He said again, as a member of STAR shoved his way in front of Jay, knocking the reporter off balance momentarily.

Jay continued on, mentally chastising himself as he took it all in. He had just sounded incredibly stupid on live television, but that wasn't what bothered him. It had been an apathetic curse, devoid of all the outrage he felt, bubbling beneath his skin. Flat and stupid sounding. Emotionless.

That's all I've got for now. And yet they're still applauding me. Why the fuck are they applauding me?

"What the fuck." He repeated, the crowd parting for him as he advanced toward what seemed like an unending mob of St. Paul citizens, acquaintances and family, school mates and the just plain curious.

Then, he spotted her.

"Mom." Jay rasped.

Lori Holland hadn't always been present in her son's life. Not that Jay minded, and not that either particularly cared. Their relationship was atypical, based on a mutual and unspoken acknowledgement that Jay Holland would never amount to anything, but he'd never become too much of a burden.

When the time came, Jay would move out of the crummy apartment they shared, into an equally crummy apartment. He'd smoke pot and hold a low income job, and probably visit once a week, or something along those lines. There had never been much time for a relationship, and never much in common aside from a 80s mix tape in their car, and a mutual love for Bass Guitar.

But despite all that, she was his Mom. Jay had thought about her, and he'd missed her. He had known from the beginning of the game she'd been watching her goofy son prance around on the Island, waiting for the moment he'd catch a bullet between the eyes. Waiting, watching and probably scared stiff. He felt guilty.

Just one more thing to hate about me.

All she had was him, as useless as he was. In an odd way it made him feel slightly better, knowing she'd been following him. Not judging him, just hoping he'd make it back somehow. The honesty was appreciated as the fakes fluttered around him, snapping pictures and waving signs.

They're clapping for me. They're clapping as if I'm a hero...

Jay didn't want to know what she thought about Janet. Jay didn't want to know what she thought about anything.

Jay had dreaded this moment, since he'd first realized what it would be like, back at the hospital. The tearful reunion, the staple ending of every movie he'd ever hated. And his life was most definitely a movie now.
He'd never seen his Mom cry before, and the thought was unnerving to say the least, another thing to lose sleep over. How would things ever be normal if his Mom started crying? How would things ever get normal again, with reporters buzzing around and half of St. Paul holding up shitty bristol board posters to celebrate him fucking up and leaving his friends to die?

She'll be different somehow. Maybe she'll try to smother me or something, ask me to live with her awhile longer... She'll fuck it up. She'll mean well, but she'll fuck it up even more. I'll have to fix it, somehow. How will I be able to fix it?

Jay took a deep breath. He had no easy answer, not this time. Lori Holland advanced, the crowd parting to let her reach her son. Video Cameras blinked and iPhones went up to capture the moment. Jay's mouth opened and closed, refusing to work, his heart hammering in his chest.

Don't cry- don't start crying- shit-

He wasn't sure who he was talking about anymore. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Some emotion, some unholy combination of sadness, fear, anticipation, relief, mixed in with things he couldn't begin to define. He wanted it to stop. This wasn't him.

Lori Holland reached for her son, and gave him hug.

Jay slumped forward into his Mother's shoulder, his arms at his side. Within an instant it was over, and Lori pulled away. Jay felt something deep down inside him give way. He felt pain, different from before. Like a light, snuffing out inside him.

He'd half expected it to be like the movie, the hug lasting a lifetime, his fears whisked away. Instead, he struggled to clear his throat.

"Hey." Lori said.

"Hey," Jay said, his voice scratchy. Then after a moment. "I'm back."

Lori nodded. Her eyes were dry, her face calm. "I left the car outside. I'm- I'm not really sure how this is supposed to work," She looked toward a member of STAR. "Can we just go? Are we allowed?"

"We'll escort you to the car," The man said. Jay nodded dumbly, as if he'd asked the question. He felt stupid. Insignificant.

And that was all of it. They walked to the car, a small contingent of reporters following close behind. They exited the airport in silence and Jay breathed in the cool night air, trying in vain to deal with the knot in his heart. His pain was clear on his face, exposed for the tabloids following at his heels.

Awkward. So fucking awkward-

"Move it, back up!" The STAR member yelled out toward the crowd massing behind them. "Give them some space!"

Jay didn't need a better signal than that. He practically ran toward the car, his pack slung over his shoulder, his hands buried in his pockets. Head down, feet pumping, terrified to look up. He didn't know where anyone else was- he figured they were back inside, either glad-handing with reporters or having a love fest with their relatives.

It's all cool, it'll be normal now, you just gotta' let it die down, it'll all be normal-

The car door slammed shut behind him. Jay breathed a sigh of relief even as the crowd surrounded the vehicle on all sides. There was a bright flash and he winced in pain, looking down and rubbing his eyes.

"Shit!" He cursed, as his Mom opened the driver's door, sliding in. "Fucking assholes, my fucking eyes!"

His Mom didn't say anything as she started up the car. The crowd parted in front of them. Jay breathed deep and leaned back in the seat. After a moment he reached out, cranking the heat full blast.

"Well?" He said sarcastically. "Aren't you going to ask how camping was?"

"I'll go turn it on." Lori replied.

Jay blinked, confused. "What?"

"I said I'll go turn the heat on." Lori said.

Jay looked around. He had forgotten where he was, if only for a moment. Lori was looking at him, as was the STAR grunts. Jay could see concern there, and he hated it.

"Okay." Jay said with a nod. "That's fine."

Lori looked like she was about to say something, but stopped at the last moment. She turned and left the room, one of the STAR grunts trailing her. Jay looked back at his messy room, scratching at his neck.

"I don't even want to clean this place." Jay said outloud.

He flopped down on his bed, sighing. The STAR grunt was still standing at the door. Jay rolled over, staring up sleepily at him.

"Can you kindly fuck off?" Jay snapped.

The man didn't reply. He turned, walking back down the hallway. Jay's head dropped back down onto his pillow, and he cursed again.

I need to get really fucking high, really fucking soon.

[Little Boy†]

It was around midnight when Jay tipped the wine cabinet over. He hadn't meant to, but he was running late. Lori had a habit of locking up the wine and liquor. Not so much to deter Jay from drinking, she knew she couldn't stop him from doing that; it was more to stop him from stealing her personal supply.

It wasn't a very successful strategy. Jay knew where she kept the key to the cabinet. At least, where she used to keep the key. He hadn't been able to find it since returning from the Island. It was irritating to say the least. His room was always warm now. Lori had even cleaned up his dirty clothes for him, sorted them herself. Small things like that had been occurring, clearly meant to show a renewed interest in his life.

Lori hadn't said anything damning, but Jay knew the truth. He had become wary on the Island, watchful. He knew what was going on.

Fuck that. I may be dumb, but I'm not blind. I know what they're up to.

Struggling to break the lock, he'd gotten a bit rowdy. The next thing he knew, the cabinet was on its side, a steady stream of wine leaking from broken bottles within.

Jay ran his fingers through his hair, snarling and cursing under his breath as he tried to right the cabinet.

No fucking use. It's too damn heavy. This is not going to be fun to explain.

Lori would have already been on his case after a crash like that- except she wasn't there. Still working double shifts, she would be out until the wee hours of the morning. That wouldn't last. Jay had gotten a call from some slimy reporter type earlier, asking for an exclusive interview.

No more late night shifts. No more shitty wooden liquor cabinets.

He gave up trying to fix the cabinet. It wasn't worth the time, or the effort. He was running late. There was money burning a hole in his pocket, and it was Friday night. A house party was already happening a few streets over.

That'll fix things. Even if Lori is acting all weird, no one is going to give a shit who I am at some party. Nice and baked. I can explain this mess when I'm nice and baked.

Grabbing his keys and his toque, Jay left his apartment and entered the cold night. The street lights were already out, shining brightly down on him. Jay felt like he was under constant scrutiny. He hadn't seen any of STAR's people since yesterday. He didn't know if they were still trailing him, under the cover of the night.

Are they going to leave me alone? Do I even want that? What else could be out there? Fucking Danya, strolling out from that alley, with a collar ready for me... No, I guess it's better if they stick around after all. Just not close. Nothing will be normal again if they stay close.

As he approached the party, he could hear the sound of bass, thumping down the street. He was grinning he realized, an honest grin for one of the first times since the hospital. The house was like a beacon in the dark street, swarming with moths. Kids were walking about, drinks in hand. He could hear curses and laughter, and house music pounding through the walls.

Alexander would've come. He'd have liked this.

Jay walked onto the porch, dense with kids. No one paid him much attention, either too drunk or too absorbed in their own dramatics to care. Nearby two young kids, probably niners, were smoking cigarettes and discussing pot.

"An apple?" One of them said. "You can use an apple as a bong...?"

"Yeah man, Brian told me. You can even smoke it in class. See, I'm thinkin' the apple smell would cover the pot right?"

"Shit! You're right!"

Jay grinned. Those poor suspended fuckers.

He passed them, and squeezed through the door past a hysterical girl, screaming at some boy on the phone. The bass was louder, and in a room off to the right, the lights were dimmed. People were sipping beer and the sound of laughter echoed through the entire house.

Jay walked into the living room, the stench of pot hitting him like a wave. On the couch, a couple were making out next to a kid who'd magged early and subsequently passed out. Smaller groups were talking in circles around the room, animated and lively. Jay spotted a boy he knew. He waved, and got an easy smile in return.

Just what I needed.

The boy he was looking for was sitting on the couch opposite the couple, fiddling with his iPhone, a knapsack at his feet. A young paler boy was sitting next to him, taking hesitant sips of a .40. The sight of such a diminutive boy drinking hard liquor was too much and Jay laughed, drawing their attention.

Nicholas Flynn looked up at Jay, as if he were looking at a ghost. His sunken eyes were bulging, and his black hair greasy was swept to the side. He was wearing a ripped and baggy hoodie along with tight skinny jeans. Beside him the pale boy looked up from his drink, confused and looking slightly terrifed.

"How old are you?" Jay said with a laugh as he approached.

The pale boy pointed toward himself, stuttering. "What? Me? Uh... Sixteen. Yeah."

Jay walked over toward them, and Nicholas pocked his iPhone, giving Jay a wave of welcome. His face however, had changed. The boy was smiling wide now, his pearly white teeth glinting.

"Jay fuckin' Holland!" Nicholas exclaimed loudly, drawing stares. "Holy shit. I didn't expect to see you here!"

Nicholas was another kid from the apartment complex. Jay had hung out with him on occasion, once with Alexander Campbell. He was nice enough, even if he was a bit of a loudmouth. Just another small time dealer who paid his way through life with the plants growing in his hallway closet.

"How are you man?" Nicholas said with enthusiasm as Jay pulled up a chair. "Like, wow. Really. How are you?"

"Uh, y'know." Jay said with a shrug. "Surviving."

"Keeping fit?" Nicholas said, laughing at his own pun.

Ah... fuck.

Jay felt his eye twitch, and he cleared his throat, glancing around the room. He could feel eyes burrowing into the back of his head now. He looked toward a group standing in the corner, just in time to see sets of eyes dance away from him. The talking continued. Jay say down in the chair, sagging low.

They're talking about me. Stupid. So naïve. Did I really think they wouldn't? It's all anyone is talking about nowadays...

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm keeping fit." Jay said with a nod. "Can I uh, get some stuff? Peter told me you were carrying 'shrooms now."

Nicholas gave another loud laugh. Jay was sure that the boy was showing off, trying to show the entire room that him and Jay Holland were best buddies. Frankly, Jay wanted to punch him in the face for trying such a stupid stunt.

"Shrooms man?" Nicholas said. He looked around, before grabbing at the pack lying on the floor near his feet. Nicholas shook his head, grinning and laughing. "You're crazier than I remember man!"

"And uh, I dunno. I'll take a few grams too."

"Of course! 'course man!" Nicholas said, rummaging through his pack. He stopped suddenly, looking up and jabbing a finger at Jay. Nicholas looked around the room, smiling. "Guys, I'm telling you. This motherfucker. A fucking legend."

"Legend?" Jay repeated.

Nicholas nodded, jabbing the pale boy next to him in the side. "Yeah! Shit, I've known you for years Jay, I always knew you were funny but that stuff you did! WOW!"

"You mean... during the game?" Jay asked.

Nicholas grinned. "Panties! Panties! Panties! Man, me and Josh were watching that- we fucking DIED man. Shit, fuckin'- we were just done. I'm pretty sure Josh spit beer all over the TV. Look, I gotta ask. Do you still have them?"

"...Her panties?" Jay said slowly.

"Yeah! Her panties! Fuck, you had them for the entire season! Did you keep them as like, a souvenir?"

Jay looked at Nicholas, his mouth open but the words refusing to form. The boy was leaning forward, eager for an answer. A few kids had crowed around, hands in pockets. All of them were staring down at him, awaiting an answer.

"I... I'm. I. Yeah. I had them-"

"When you left the beach right?" Nicholas said excitedly.

Jay stared for a second longer, before nodding his head slowly. "Yeah. When I left Hayley and Janet I had it in my pack. I had it on the boat."

"You were my favourite, I swear," Nicholas said "I mean, I'm not even lying because you made it! Haha, Peter was all for that Lombardi kid, and I was like 'Fuck you! Jay fuckin' Holland, he's getting that plane ride home and he is going to smoke all of the dope in St. Paul as a reward!' Not to mention that Italian woulda' been lynched if he made it home. Fucker deserved it, ain't that right?"

I can't believe this bullshit.

Nicholas had always been a loudmouth. But Jay had never known the boy could be this infuriating. He was completely unapologetic, gushing and admiring him, every compliment sending a twitch up Jay's spine. Jay shifted in the chair, trying his best to remain stoic as the group laughed along with Nicholas.

"Remi? That was it, right? That kid who blew off his fuckin' head? Did you know that guy? Was he always such a fucking dumbass?"

There was a loud ringing in his ears. Not loud enough to drown out Nicholas, but loud enough to send bolts of pain shooting through the back of his skull. Jay was sweating, his heart pounding in agony. The guilt was unbearable, crushing him down through the floor.

"How about the Fiametta chick? Shiiit, that scene with the ginger- I died laughing when he..."

They weren't even talking about him like he was a person anymore. He was a television character, a reality star.

Is that what I wanted?

Jay realized sombrely, that he shouldn't have lived to see the outcome of his antics. He felt like he was being choked, unable to breathe, unable to respond.

And it's not even enough to kill me. How unfair is that?

"Can I have the pot already?" Jay asked.

Nicholas smiled and bobbed his head, yanking a plastic baggy out of the knapsack. Jay breathed a sigh of relief, reaching down into his pocket for some cash.

They gave this to me. All those dead kids... This is my payment, for being a clown and a failure. I'm blowing their blood money on drugs. Is that funny? Is that a funny joke? I don't get it.

"Yo, man. Jay!" Nicholas said, raising up a hand to stop him. Jay didn't like the look in his eyes. Nicholas leaned forward, shaking his greasy hair about his head and slapping Jay in the arm. Jay recoiled from the touch, but Nicholas didn't seem to notice.

"Instead of cash, can you say it for us?" Nicholas said.

"What are you talking about?" Jay said, struggling to control the rage building up inside him.

"Panties, man! Just like when you found 'em! Come'on, just this once, you can have it on the house."

A shiver went down Jay's spine. He could barely speak. All of them were staring at him, smiling and approving.

Happy to have you back Jay, happy to have you back, you worthless fuck. Now say something funny.

But you can't. Because you're not even funny anymore. You're not even good for that.

"I... I don't think I'm going to say that." Jay said, embarrassed. He scratched the back of his head, adjusting his hat.

Nicholas pouted, leaning back on the dirty couch. "Aw come on man! Just this one time!"

"I don't think-"

"Come on, it's me, Nicky! Do it for me-"

"I'm not going to fucking say it." Jay snapped, shouting at Nicholas.

The expression on Nicholas' face changed. For a split second, Jay saw terror. As if he was expecting Jay to leap out of his seat and strangle the life out of him.

That's what he thinks isn't it!? I hung out with Janet, and he knows all about her! So why am I any different? Doesn't that make sense? Doesn't that just make fucking sense!?

Jay pulled the wad of bills from his pocket and began counting them out.

"How much?" Jay said curtly.

"It's on the house man." Nicholas said, laughing. There was no humour in his voice now. The boy was nervous. "I'm serious. It wouldn't be right."

He's looking at me like I'm dangerous. Like I'm a fucking murdering psychopath. My one chance to kill people, and I blew it completely. I wasted my chance, to strangle some stupid fuck, just like him.

Jay threw a handful of twenties at the boy, snatching the bag of drugs out of his extended hand. He didn't even care if it was the right amount. He didn't want any of the money he decided, none of it.

I didn't have money before. I don't deserve it now.

Jay's eyes darted toward the boy sitting next to Nicholas. Except it wasn't Nicholas anymore. It was Alex. Alexander Campbell with his acoustic in hand smiling at Jay like there was nothing wrong. He could hear Alex, saying something in that sing-song Irish voice of his.

Jay wanted to scream and punch him in the face.

How could you die? You, of all people?

"Did you watch it?" Jay said sharply.

The pale boy shook his head, his shoulders tensing up as he heard the fury in Jay's voice.

"No, I-" He stuttered.

"You know who you remind me of?" Jay said. "Alexander. You remember Alexander, right Nicholas?"

Nicholas nodded his head quickly. "Uh, yeah... Kinda. He was a good guy. It was a real shame..."

"Who's Alexander? Was he on the-" The pale boy asked.

"Of course he was on the fucking Island." Jay said plainly. "He chopped his fucking arm off, you fucking idiot."

Jay watched as the boy's already pale face lost its remaining color. He turned back towards Nicholas as he rose from his seat.

"Dude, wanna know what the funniest part was?"

Nicholas was silent for a moment, before snapping back to life. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, looking up at Jay.

"What?" Nicholas said, a hint of unease in his voice.

"It was after I met Janet. We were in the forest, minding our own business. This crazy fuck came out of the woods and started firing at us." Jay paused. "David Matson. That was his name. Well, we got him. I clipped the fucker, and he went down."

Nicholas' eyes were wide. The pale boy was looking between them both, his mouth hanging open.

"You remember that, right? You watched it, didn't you? Remember when I shot him? It was that noise he made. That was the funniest thing."

Nicholas looked down at the bills in his hand. "Look- It's, Jay- it's- it's on the house." He began.

"I don't want your fucking charity, and I don't want you fucking talking about me." Jay snarled. He spun and walked from the room without another word. Even then he could feel the eyes burrowing into the back of him, judging him.

They could judge him all they wanted. He didn't care. There was an Island somewhere out there, filled with dead kids.

That was all that mattered.

[Little Boy†]

((My New Years Resolution is that I'm going to finish this shitty-ass thread in the next days. Because seriously, I suck -__-))


Jay's feet slammed on the hard floor as he ran down the hallway, his arms pumping and his throat catching, making a pained noise like a dying man. Rounding the corner Jay twisted, the bag of drugs swinging in his sweaty hands. His eyes were wide, fear and blind panic stuck to his face like a mask.

He reached his apartment in seconds, dropping his goods and fumbling in his pocket for a key. He was remotely aware of the fact that his hands were shaking and white, but he didn't care. The door gave way with a click and Jay stumbled inside, only halting for a moment to collect his drugs and slam the door behind him.

His movements jerky and paranoid, Jay ripped off his sweater, throwing it to the floor in a heap. He looked around his apartment, eyes lingering on the overturned liquor cabinet.

He'd seen someone. Someone from STAR or one of Danya's people, it didn't matter much. He was being watched and he'd ran the entire way back, dodging cars and other people under the careful watch of the moon. As if the party hadn't been terrible enough.

They think I'm a liability. Or they're worried that I'd pull something- that I'd be selfish enough to- to-Bugs. Like in the cop shows. They must have put a wire in the house. That must be it

Jay took off to the kitchen, his breathing raspy. Collecting a hammer from the tool drawer he headed back into the living room, looking around at the walls, blinking fast, his eyes watery.

"Those sons of bitches!" Jay whimpered to himself pathetically, his words more likely to illicit laughter than anything else. He gazed at the wall next to him, scanning for markings, holes. Anything, to prove he wasn't going insane.

How do they even put that shit in? How do I even get it out?

Jay took a wild swing at the wall, followed by another. The thin apartment walls weren't made to withstand punishment at the best of times, and cracked and caved beneath his wild and erratic swings, despite his weak blows.

It is 1 AM and I am destroying a wall with a hammer.

But he couldn't stop. He couldn't and he didn't want to. Jay ran across the room, starting fresh on the opposite corner, smacking randomly at empty splotches of the wall. Pictures fell and the entire building seemed to shake beneath his frenzied assault for a single glorious instant.

"Fuck you, fuck you!" Jay screamed. With a wild toss he threw the hammer across the room. With a whooshing sound it sailed through the air, the head breaking through the thin wall and hanging in the jagged gash it left.

There was pain in his head. There was pain all over. Jay pressed the palms of his hands to his temples, wandering back toward the door, breathing hard.

He'd never been so scared in his entire life.

What is happening to me... Why am I doing this to myself? It's not a joke anymore, it's not funny. I'm not funny...

He spotted the bag of drugs. He didn't know how many shrooms he'd bought. He was always a stoner, but had rarely dabbled in alcohol and harder drugs. Weed money was hard enough to come by.

Maybe I'll become a fucking alcoholic. I hate liquor, but it's tragic, right? Maybe that's what I should do. Maybe they wouldn't take it all so fucking lightly then, isn't that right? Yeah? Oh, fuck you Jay Holland-

Jay grabbed the bag, ripping it open and taking a handful of shrooms. Greedily he stuffed them in his mouth before going back to grab the last bits. He chewed noisily, swallowing.

Oh.

Oh.

"What?"

Nothing.

"Shit..."

Jay felt his head, suddenly nervous. His stomach was churning as he stared down at the empty bag in his hands. He had no way of proving it, but he had a sneaking suspicion that his pupils were dilating. The world was swimming before his eyes. But only because that's how he felt that was how shrooms should be. A strange swimming sensation, but that wasn't really what shrooms were, it was more than that, wasn't it? But how would he ever know, now that he was imagining what it was like, while on them? That didn't make any sense.

Jay thought about what he'd just thought about. He decided nothing was making sense anymore, and it was either intentional or not. Which wasn't much of a deciding thought at all. He thought about puking up the shrooms, but that would defeat the purpose. He was a tragic figure, and tragic figures needed to die in tragic ways.

Can you die from eating too many shrooms? I guess I'll find out.

Jay turned around, and tried to think about why he turned around. He couldn't come up with an answer as he stumbled toward the coach, the world bending and twisting beneath his feet, like some sort of brightly painted rollercoaster.

"They...didn't even taste... good..."

"'sup loser?"

Hayley was smirking at him in the doorway, as if nothing in the world mattered. Jay supposed that maybe it didn't. He was hallucinating now, although he wasn't positive if it was brought on by the drugs or his own psyche.

He was fucked. The Doctors had known, probably all the others too. He'd tried to cover it, but this clinched it. Jay Holland was fucked, and Jay Holland was going to die from eating too many damn shrooms.

"Not you again..." Jay moaned, stumbling toward the couch. Hayley followed him close behind, giggling as he tried to walk straight.

"You're such an asshole Jay. I mean, really. You always said we'd get a chance to do shrooms together- now you went ahead and did it without me?"

"How am I supposed to get high with a dead person?" Jay whined as he collapsed on the couch, pressing the palms of his hands into his eye sockets. He let out a high pitched moan and Hayley sat down on the couch next to him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Awh, there there. It isn't all that bad. I'm still around." Hayley said with a smirk.

"I'm going to die. I ate too many shrooms and now I'm going to die."

"You're not going to die. You're just hallucinating. And on the bright side, you're hallucinating me. And I'm pretty awesome!"

"Awhh..."

"Jay, snap out of it for two seconds. You're hallucinating, and I have something important to tell you."

Jay looked up toward his friend, his throat raw. Hands shaking he adjusted his hat, staring up at Hayley.

"Jay. What I'm about to tell you is very important." Hayley said solemnly.

"What is it?"

"You remember when we were in the forest? And I said I was a god damn legend?"

"Yes..." Jay said slowly.

"I meant it. I am a LEGEND. I didn't think you'd get off that island, but holy shit here you are. I pitied you because I figured you'd never make it home- but holy shit, HERE YOU ARE."

Jay's mouth dropped open. "You mean... you..."

"HERE YOU ARE. NOW GO FOR IT JAY."

Jay let out a squeal and dropped off the couch, fumbling around on the floor. The world was shaking and he felt like he was going to puke, and he was aware that his heart had stopped beating at some point but he didn't care. Somewhere was his computer. And on Youtube, Hayley was naked.

"You can do it Jay! Come on! You can do it go go go!"

The laptop was crammed beneath the coffee table, and after around five minutes of searching, Jay managed to locate it. Stumbling to his feet, Jay threw the computer down onto the table and frantically began to type.

"JAY YOU NEED TO OPEN IT FIRST." Hayley screamed, leaning over his shoulder.

"Shit!" Jay paused, staring down in front of him. Jay spun the computer around, his hands shaking in anticipation.

"Jay you need to flip it- fucking flip it turnways!"

"Why are you talking like that!?"

"I can do what the fuck I want, I'm dead! Put in your password! Turn on the screen, no- fuck- you have it sideways- Jay, fucking type in the password, come on hurry up, god dammit you can't even spell youtube-"

"MY HANDS AREN'T DOING WHAT THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO DO. I AM HIGH AS BALLS AND YOU ARE A GHOST, STOP YELLING AT ME."

"JAY CAPS LOCK IS ON; YOU NEED TO TYPE IN YOUR PASSWORD. COME ON, REMEMBER YOUR PASSWORD!"

Jay's fingers felt like weights, or perhaps bricks. Something heavy, it didn't matter. Everything was dull now, with a strange fruity taste. Dutifully he typed in the password, his eyes dancing all over the screen, the colors seeming to explode as he went along.

"Youtube Jay! You're nearly there! Hayley and Ema hot lesbian sex! It'll be the first video!"

"It's loading! It's loading!"

A chorus of angels began to sing somewhere overhead. Jay wanted to hold up his hands, like he was the sorry bastard on the cover of Platoon, like he was a rock star who'd just hit it big and earned his first encore, really earned it. Guitars were squealing in his ears as the screen lit up in front of him.

Jay sunk back into the couch, Hayley hanging off his shoulder, leaning over the couch and hovering near the side of his face. The world was bright and shiny and full of wonder. His heart started beating again, and somewhere close by Jay was positive that fireworks were going off, exploding the dark sky and filling the world with sound and glorious color and tits.

Tits, tits, tits. Specifically, Hayley's tits. Fireworks, exploding into giant jiggling breasts of awesome.

"This is..." Jay croaked, his eyes bulging.

"Yes?" Hayley said sweetly.

"GAHHHHHH." Jay cried out, scratching at his face. He couldn't bear it. The mere thought of blinking was blasphemy, punishable by lashes to his groin.

Never before, had Jay wanted to kiss another man. But Jay was pretty certain that Al Gore had invented the internet, and because of that, he was indirectly responsible for the glorious scene that Jay now watched. At that moment, Jay swore a solid oath that should he get the opportunity, he'd let Al Gore open mouth kiss him, if the man ever got a chance.

On the screen in front of him, Hayley and Ema writhed on the beach, naked and kissing and groping-

"Jay, why didn't you ever try to fuck me?! Look at how hot I am!" Hayley said, slapping him in the side of the head.

"Ohmygod why is this happening this is so fucked I can't believe how stupidly amazing this is-" Jay babbled insanely, his fingers clawing deeper into his face, his eyes watering as he watched.

"Jay, calm down and get your dick out."

Jay blinked.

"What are you talking about?" Jay said.

Hayley gave a roll of her eyes, causing a shiver to crawl down Jay's spine. Despite everything he knew, despite seeing her on the beach... Hayley was alive. There was a part of her, some fragment that had managed to survive death. And now, he was faced with it. Hayley, from beyond the grave. Hayley, his friend who he'd left behind, left to die.

Coward, you fucking coward you left her, you just left her... Oh shit. Oh God, you fucking asshole...

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Hayley snapped at him. Her hand shot out again, and Jay yelped and squirmed out of her reach. He was having trouble catching his breath. Hayley seemed to be glowing, some odd color that Jay couldn't remember. It didn't make any sense.

That's it. This isn't supposed to happen. I'm in an alternate universe. A universe doomed to failure, because I'm still alive and that's just not right- Or... Maybe shrooms. Yeah. Maybe.

"Jay. You have high quality, DEFCON 5 wank material here. And it is going to waste! You're so obsessed with being a failure in everything, that you are neglecting your one true talent! Wasting perfectly good sperm!" Hayley said, taking another wild swing at him.

"Why are you such a condescending bitch, even when you're dead..."

"Come on! Your pants are already off!"

Jay looked down. His face scrunched up in confusion as he stared at his bright blue boxers. Indeed, his pants were gone. Where they'd disappeared to and how, he would never know.

"I can't just do it with you watching me." Jay said.

"I'm dead Jay. Remember?" Hayley said. Her tone was matter-of-fact. Her voice was sugary sweet.

Something inside of Jay wanted to curl up and die when he heard it, sob relentlessly and pound at the walls in anger. For a split second, Jay thought he was going to start screaming. Fear came with it; fear that if he started to scream, he wouldn't be able to stop. Not for death, not for anything.

Jay let out a shuddering sigh, and closed his eyes. His head sank down, resting in his hands.

"I know Hayley." Jay croaked.

"...Do you want to see it happen?"

[Little Boy†]

It was a long video. Choppy. Drawn out. Compared to the sex tape, barely any views. People were morbid fucks, but tits conquered blood and guts easily. Jay supposed it would always be that way. People liked having a good nights rest. Watching teenagers fuck was more likely to give them that luxury, more so than watching teenagers bleed out and die in the dirt.

Jay refused to blink. What he was watching was important, one of the few important things left in hislife. If he blinked, if he even tried to look away, Hayley would call him out on it. He would never be able to look at himself again. Not that he could to begin with.

In the dark Jay sat and watched the video, liquor staining his floor, holes in the apartment walls. He whimpered, but no one could hear him. Hayley Kelly stroked his shoulder, hovering over him like an angel.

"Oh, this is where it gets good." Hayley said. "Watch this part."

On the camera feed, Ema was helping Hayley down the path. It was gritty and pixelated, but Jay could tell his friends well enough, despite the dirt.

Despite the blood, trailing behind them.

Jay swallowed. There was a lump in his throat, refusing to move. He felt like he was choking, and his mouth flapped open dumbly, trying to inhale all the air he could get while he still had a chance.

Hayley sank to the ground. Jay felt the shakes beginning, rolling down his body like waves. His eyes were wet, his breathing haggard and his chest taunt, panic rising up in him as the video rolled through to the final minutes. The final minutes. They were talking now. Hayley and Ema. The seconds on the video were ticking down to the inevitable conclusion.

Fuck, Hayley. Not you. I don't want you to go.

Jay bit into his lip, wincing in pain as he drew blood. The taste of copper filled his mouth. He was light-headed, his right hand twitching.

I can't do this-

Watch.

I can't- not Hayley, for the love of God, not Hayley-

Watch it, you stupid bastard.

Please- I didn't do anything-

And then, through the silence, Ema spoke, her voice soft, her words kicking through him, crushing what was left.

"Are you... are you in pain, Hayley?"

He couldn't hold it together. Jay was sobbing now, sobbing like a new-born baby, his dignity long stripped away. He extended his shaking hands toward the screen, as if in some desperate hope that he could stop what he was seeing, that he could reach through the screen and take Hayley's hand, pull her back to her senses-

This is a fake. This isn't you. You'd never be talking like this- You can't just give up! You can't just let her, kill you, of all the people not her. Hayley Kelly wasn't supposed to give up-

For an instant, Hayley was frozen on the screen, a gun barrel pressed to her temple. Jay felt blood pooling inside his mouth. The world seemed to freeze.

"Fuck-" Jay managed to whisper.

On the screen, Hayley opened her mouth, a muffled gurgling the only noise managing to escape. Her head moved up, the tiniest fraction of an inch. The noise tore through Jay, and he knew in that instant, he would never escape it. A rattling noise, lungs filling with fluid. Like an old woman, dying in the hospital.

Except it wasn't a clean hospital, with white floors and empty smiles. It was an island, and she was young, so fucking young...

Jay was panicking. He wracked his brain, trying to think of the last time he'd seen Hayley, before the trip-

Alex's party. Yes, Alex had hosted a party, and Hayley had been there, smiling and-

"Hayley?" Jay mumbled.

The moment was broken. Hayley's head snapped backwards, blood spraying from the bullet wound in the center of her head. It was a hollow noise, muted and anti-climactic, yet it ran through Jay, running through his veins and through his mind on an endless loop, numbing him, dragging him downward and destroying his last vestige of strength.

Hayley Kelly wouldn't take his hand ever again. Hayley Kelly, the undefeatable party girl, was lying dead on an island, a bullet through her fucking head.

Somewhere out there was an island, filled with dead kids.

The party was over. His heart was stopping. His heart was breaking. And the sound he was making was just like Hayley, a bitter dirge full of self-hatred and sorrow in equal measure.

Fuck, he wanted to die. He wanted to die, more than anything in the world. Lord knew, he deserved it.

"You're pathetic" Hayley muttered. "Absolutely pathetic."

Jay looked up. Hayley was standing behind him, hovering above him like the Grim Reaper, a bullet through her forehead. Black blood dripped from the wound, falling to hit Jay between the eyes. He jerked forward in an instant, a hand going to his face, wiping the blood away.

Of course, there was no blood to be found. Jay stared at his hand dumbly, shivering in terror, the urge to scream rising within him.

"I thought you had a stronger gut than that? You're sobbing like a fucking baby. Really dude? Really? That's how you're going to remember me?"

Jay swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "How could you do that? How- how could you let her kill you?"

"Oh honey... I had to give up." Hayley said sadly. "I was going to die either way. You don't understand."

"Then make me understand." Jay said, his words punctuated with a sharp sob. "Tell me why you had to die. Tell me why all my friends had to fucking die, when they were the only good thing about my life?!"

Hayley was silent for a moment. "Well for one thing, I killed Janet."

Jay felt his blood turn to ice. He blinked back tears, staring down at his floor. A single drop of blood stained it, right between his skinny legs.

"What did you say?" Jay said softly.

"You heard what I said ya' dummy. I killed Janet."

"No you didn't." Jay said. He could hear his own voice rising in fear. "Stop saying that."

"Janet Binachi. The girl you loved. I killed her. And then I got shot in the head. Doesn't that make things a little better?"

Jay stumbled to his feet, turning around and staring wide eyed at Hayley. She leaned forward against the couch, her elbows propping her up. Hayley smirked, her eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"What, you didn't know?" She teased.

"Shut up." Jay repeated. His throat was raw, stabbing at him as if he'd swallowed a knife. "Don't say that."

Hayley pouted. "But it's the truth. What's the matter? Didn't love her as much as you thought? I figured as much..."

"Shut up!"

"I mean, how much did you really know about her? In the end? Nothing really. She killed that boy in cold blood you know, Everett. She was a player, and she would have killed you in the end."

"Shut up! Listen to me! Shut up, shut up!"

"Hell, you didn't even love her. You just wanted to get your dick wet before you died, all for the cameras mind you. But that's just like you isn't it? Always joking. Can't take anything seriously. Just a fucking comedian-"

Jay let out a feral scream, leaping up and over the couch, his fingers darting for Hayley's neck. Hayley's eyes went wide with surprise as they fell backwards, her head coming down on the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Jay collapsed on top of her, his bony hands gripping her neck, crushing the life from her.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP!" Jay screamed. He brought Hayley's head up and slammed it back into the wooden floor. Jay throttled Hayley, his blood pumping and tears running down his red face. Her legs kicked frantically as she tried to throw Jay off, her arms reaching up feebly to claw at his arms.

"YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE!" Jay screamed. There was a sound like a wet cloth as Hayley's head met the floor. But Jay didn't stop, even as blood began to flow from the back of Hayley's head, dark red blood pooling around his skinny legs.

"YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO FUCKING DIE!" Jay screamed. He let out an anguished shout, his voice choking out, dying off into a coughing fit. His limbs dead, Jay fell to the floor beside Hayley, shivering in the warm blood, the taste of copper in his mouth, bitter tears flowing down his face.

He was shutting down. Beside him, Hayley tried to speak, but only managed a weak gurgle. Blood flowed from the sides of her mouth, running down to the floor. Her eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Jay cried. He cried like he never done before. He cried for what he'd done to his Mother. He cried for what he'd done to himself, what he'd done to the world around him.

I made it all a joke. Oh God, please forgive me. It's not funny. It's not funny. Please, someone forgive me...

"Hayley... Wake up..." Jay said. Hayley didn't answer. Laying limp and sprawled on the floor next to him, Hayley Kelly was long dead. Jay reached out with a blood smeared hand, touching her throat, feeling the marks he'd left on her.

"Hayley... Please, don't leave me alone..." Jay croaked. His hand fell back.

The last piece of Hayley Kelly was dead and gone. And deep down, Jay knew he would never speak to her again. She had faded from his life, and his last memory would be her dead eyes, staring up at his ceiling, a pathetic gurgle coming from her throat.

Jay sank down in the blood. A shiver ran down his spine. Far away, he could hear sirens. Farther still, he could hear his friends.

An island, full of dead kids. Like the punch line to a bad joke.

Jay realized belatedly, he couldn't feel anything anymore.

"Don't leave me." Jay said quietly, his voice breaking.

No one answered him. No one was there.

It was black outside.

As black as hell.