𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙈𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝙄 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙔𝙤𝙪 // 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐅

01. sick

He's dead! You're sick!

Those are the words that bounced in Jack's skull, taunting his stunned senses as an officer promptly sat him in the copter. The phrase that was floating in his brain latched itself onto one wall of bone like a leech before leaping to the other wall of bone. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in an unbearably disorienting rhythm that possessed an odd ability to comfort him in this fucked up mania.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth like a demented game of ping-pong. Disgusting agitated horror writhed in the core of his bones, boiling the marrow to regretful broth.

You're sick!

A knife of awareness stabbed Jack in the chest. He's caked in his own body. His flesh, muscle, skin, and blood. Inky and thick. Blue eyes flickered down to his own trembling hands, palms up. Jack sucked in a harsh breath as a sense of pure realization began to trickle in.

Sick.

Sick.

Sick.

His ash and blood coated hands stare back at him to torture his mind. Jack flexed his fingers like he was trying to familiarize himself with his own body -- the same fingers which curled a tight grasp around a sharpened spear that he once brandished like it was his only redeeming quality. Like it was the pinnacle of his authority and livelihood. Jack blinked. Those are the same hands he killed with. The blood hiding under the hood of his nails and coating his palms isn't his own.

Sick.

Sick.

Sick.

Smoke had climbed his teeth and scraped his throat, tainting his mouth with the brash taste of destruction. People are speaking next to him. He can't hear the words. The sentences aren't materializing in his ears. A cry breaches the air, not regarded by Jack.

Sick.

Sick.

Sick.

Sticky blood began to dry on the tough skin of his palms. The inky feeling perplexed him as the red sight imprinted itself into his eyelids. And red is such a pretty color -- at least that's what Veronica thought. Veronica.

How could he forget? Her insides are red - Red! Because she was a person. How could he forget that all of them were still human?? After all this time, they were still living, breathing beings with a life outside the God forsaken island. His insides are red, too. Of course! Red red red.

His teeth clamp onto his lower lip as his trembling hand roughly dragged across the the side of his leg in a useless attempt to helplessly rid the reminders. The gradually drying blood gripped his skin, making Jack wince at the gummed feeling.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!

Those were the words that slapped him in the face after the boulder sliced through the air in a grey flash, splattering the blood of an innocent. Strangely enough, Jack felt comforted by those harshly spat words. Furthermore, he wished that it would've been the last thing she said to him. It would be easier that way. So, so much easier. His eyes screw closed.

I love you, too.

That's what she said no less than an hour ago. The last uttered phrase that forcefully crawled through her parted lips. Jack shoved the echo of those words down into a box and stored it away in his chest. He wished he could unhear them, to banish them from his ears. She was supposed to hate him. She was supposed to loathe him from then on. God, how did it all go so wrong? He damned the tears away and resisted the urge to twitch or scratch.