The sun was high up that day, but the winds felt strong. People often said that one can’t remember everything from the past, but Becky remembers - each sound, each color. The way she felt was still imprinted in her heart since the beginning. When she caught sight of him from the corner of her gaze, Becky knew that there wasn’t anything to stop the rollercoaster of emotions. Each one crashing down on her and hardly felt relentless. He actually followed me?! The thought trickled into her mind, and she felt her heart begin to beat against her chest. There was a flush on Becky’s face as she couldn’t believe the luck presented for her. She felt hesitant and couldn’t help but have her mind filled with thoughts of him. 

 

What do I say? He’s so close?! Becky wasn’t paying attention to what was in front of her. Instead, her gaze was locked on Bozz the entire time. Each step was taken with confidence in closing the distance between them. “Gah!” Becky yelped out as she ran into a palm tree, a throbbing sensation buzzing. She rubbed her palm on a stinging red mark on her forehead, a small whimper heard. However, to her shock, Bozz continued as if oblivious. 

 

She stood up, brushing off any dust before she jogged towards him. After a couple of seconds, she caught up to him. Don’t fall … don’t fall. The mantra repeated in her mind as she peeked over at Bozz. Becky shyly kept watching on her shivering hands pressed together as she walked. Even though we’ve known each other for so long, I feel like a complete stranger right now … and I’m embarrassing myself... She only hoped he didn’t notice. Though precisely as she thought this, Bozz seemed to finally see her. Within a second, he had turned towards her direction and narrowed his gaze at her. 

 

“Why are you shivering?” Bozz questioned her with a slight frown on his face before he offered a suggestion. “Want my jacket? It’ll keep you warm.”

 

 “Y-you’d be shirtless!” 

 

She quickly shook her head feverously, muttering softly to herself but not a word he heard. Becky couldn’t imagine having the courage to make a decision; she made Bozz do all the thinking for both of them.That earned her a soft laugh from him, the atmosphere different from all those other times for Becky. So when he shrugged at her, she felt at a loss before he readjusted his jacket and kept walking. 

 

“Suit yourself.” His words stamping at her feelings: crushed.

 

And the memory fades away, softly like the ocean waves.

 

“I should have taken it.” Becky lamented, finding herself in a flashback of a time when she was only a child. 

 

He’d always looked out for her like an older brother; however, she had grown greedy for that feeling. And all the times that she remembered came to her without hesitation. Suddenly daydreams of times that had long passed mixed with her narration. Glorified times that probably held less the impact one should feel. The time when the days seemed shorter, and she was able to stay by Bozz’s side without there being a reason why - but more importantly, back to the time where he had placed a stamp in her soul. There, a scene began to play like a faded movie, but she recalled everything, Becky’s hands were gripping a favored toy, but it didn’t matter. A toy that’d kept her safe, according to the last words her father had said prior to her move to that new neighborhood. 

 

The sounds of boys jeering at her and their rough hands pushing her aside was the first recollection. Becky never found it easy getting along with others during the beginning of her arrival when she was younger. They were mean and hardly friendly, more so whatever she had they wanted to break. As if her emotions didn’t matter, but what does one expect from children? Especially since they weren’t brought up to be empathetic. Becky remembered as she trembled in fear, clutching her toy, but their hands reached out - cruel and gnarled.

 

“Give it here!” One of the boys yelled at her, their voice booming as he latched onto her toy and pulled. Her tiny fingers didn’t have the strength due to the fear that perpetuated in her mind. Instead, she felt the stinging pain near her scalp. 

 

None of them deemed her as a person, much less human, nothing more than an object. With their stubby fingers, these children grabbed hold of her hair. Ignorant of her pain, they tore strands out to grab hold of the small shiny things that held up her locks. But maybe her standing proved to be an inconvenience for them because she felt palms pressed against her back. They were shoving her forward, and the ability to keep balance was lost to her. The stinging sensation from her head began to spread, tears pricking at her eyes. She was nothing more than an outlet to release their emotions, sadly enough.

 

“I took it from her first! It’s mine!” She’d found herself pushed to the floor by some kids that wanted her pigtails to use as marbles. They’d torn the shiny emerald marbles, holding them in the light of a nearby street pole. Its shine only grew stronger with the evening sun coming down. Becky’s knees continued to shake; she kept one small hand under her scraped knee. The pads of her fingers tried to ease the pain, but nothing was working - not even making herself small.

 

The fact of uncertainty on whether the boys would let her go kept her from thinking of the stinging sensation pulsing in faint red. She’d gotten lost in the new neighborhood, and even running away seemed like a useless idea so late at night. She just wanted to escape for a little bit, not find herself surrounded by boys! Cruel, and she felt alone but that wasn’t the case. Just then, someone came to aid her. 

 

The one who saved her was none other than Bozz.

 

She remembered every single moment, from the way the other boys stopped to the shadow that cast over her. For the first time, she didn’t feel all alone and he imprinted himself onto her heart. The way her heart misinterpreted her feelings and a crush began to blossom.

 

“Leave her alone.” The command echoed loudly, and the boys were frozen, unsure what to say. But it wasn’t till the ring leader gathered what little courage he had left.

 

“But-”

 

“What did I say?” Bozz snapped, anger spreading across his face as he didn’t enjoy the weak being harmed. Although he was only a bit older than them, there was a sense of authority that none could ignore. With their heads low, the group of troublemakers walked away, not wanting to fight with the older boy. After a few seconds, he turned towards her, and Becky remembered how her heart began to let more of Bozz’s presence become her world. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Yeah…” Her words trailed off; even when she was young, she couldn’t help but be soft around the edges for him. And without her realizing, tears were cascading down her cheeks. The warmth he gave her from the careless protection was now a core memory. “Thanks.”

 

Becky never understood what Bozz saw in her that day; all she remembered was his stare. Along with the extension of handing her a treat: apple coated in caramel. There was never a reason why, but she believed he gave her his snack in a way to remedy her pain. Her misunderstandings, or rather her altered reality, are what made her who she was since that day.

 

“Here, take this.” Bozz had told her, and in her mind, she saw it as him being shy. “So stop crying.”

 

The treat now in her hand appeared sticky and sweet. Without waiting for a second, she went over and took a bite. There was an explosion of sweetness and a crunch - the flavors forever ingrained in her mind, tied with emotions. But she loved every moment of that taste because she thought it might be similar to love. And it had been her favorite since a flavor she could never let go of. So then, that memory faded away once more. Another flashback was drawing her away from the reality of her situation. Now she was back at the present, no childish recollections blocking her sight. And she gulped nervously, unable to handle her feelings well. Yet, Bozz seemed perfectly fine when compared to her which led to her self-doubt.

 

To her right, Bozz continued onward - not once did he turn to look at her. However, on her end, she kept her gaze locked on him the entire time, unable to look away for a brief moment. He’s still the same … I never know what he’s thinking…but I’ve always felt safe around him, so why am I feeling nervous around him now?! It’s… love?  She thought to herself. But in many ways, she twisted her reality to fit the way she wanted to feel.

 

Unbothered by the now quiet atmosphere between the two. Becky couldn’t help but feel nostalgic upon noticing fireflies appearing around them. Unknowingly, she wanted to grab hold of any piece of attention Bozz was willing to hand out. So, she tried to strengthen their bonds by drawing on one of the few memories the two held.

 

“Fireflies, ah, do you remember that one summer where we got separated from the group?” Becky brought up a memory, one that wasn’t hazy in her mind. Any moment that had Bozz in it was analyzed and remembered forever.

 

Her face was flushed, full of excitement in hopes that Bozz remembered. But when he looked at her, nothing came to mind. The blankness that reflected from his gaze made Becky freeze for a moment. Another sign that maybe the two of them weren’t a match, but Becky refused to believe the nagging doubts at the back of her mind. Instead, she nervously gulped and hoped that Bozz would reassure her.

 

“We what?” Bozz repeated, and he searched his mind for the memory that Becky spoke of. 

 

The way his face scrunched up in thought made Becky’s heart squeeze in excitement. But that was a monetary pleasure for her. And Becky waited, but nothing seemed to jog his memories. And there was an insecure thought: does he only think of her? But, she shook her head and decided to help him by offering another reminder. Little did she know that Bozz had other thoughts in his mind, unable to keep track of the moments they shared.

 

“A few years back.” Becky told him, “We went camping.”

 

Memories she associated with feelings and taste. Bliss and the smokey flavor of chocolate. Brief moments that were timestamped by Becky and thrown away by Bozz. The painful truth that Becky wasn’t ready for; instead, she hoped for him to remember. It was easier altering her reality than facing the cruel truth.

 

“Oh … I now do,” Bozz confirmed, but the image of fireflies faded away. But he remembered the sight of Becky’s red face with her teary eyes, the imagery making him snort with amusement. Slowly, the past began to flutter back to Bozz. He shifted around and recalled how Becky had injured herself in that trip. “You were crying, and I had to carry you back to the campsite.” 

 

A blush began to tint her cheeks and embarrassment of a time where she would do anything to be in Bozz’s arms. Grateful mistakes that she had hoped brought them closer, but she was always kept at arm’s length. And Becky knew why but she never wanted to address the ghost that hung behind their conversations - the looming thoughts that neither could escape. So, she would always shake her head and let out a forced laugh.

 

“Shush!” Her hand was pushing at his arm, a momentary touch that soothed her spiraling emotions. And Becky continued her act, tucking her hair behind her ear as she tried to imitate Sala’s movements and the way she spoke. “Sorry if I was heavy.”

 

For a brief moment, Bozz had stopped - not because of what Becky said. There was an overlapping vision of a girl that wasn’t around anymore. The image of Sala remained, always near when he stayed by Becky. The careless action of hovering near Becky’s side was unforgivable on his end. But it was for a glimpse to the past, one that Bozz had lost. He cared little for who he hurt; no one reprimanded him. Not even Becky, the one who shouldered the pain of losing Sala; she was trying to be her and more. So, he decided to extend an ounce of kindness, nothing short of pity.

 

“You weren’t,” Bozz reassured her, but they held no weight. No depth or any emotions that Becky wanted. Instead, he remembered the taste of sweetness - the smell of fire. They were brief imprints in his mind, similar to Becky without the attachments. Bozz glanced over at her, a broad smile on his face before he licked his lips. “Those smores you made were soooo good!”

 

“Better chef than most.” Becky praised herself, but then she was quick to change the subject. Because the conversation was veering off romance and more of a playfulness. Becky didn’t want to be one of his friends, but something more on the romantic route. “Oh! That’s right, I never gave you this back,” She turned around, digging around before she brought out a handkerchief. 

 

The piece of cloth was old, but it was taken care of - there wasn’t any tear or discoloration. 

 

“You actually kept that? … Hm.” Bozz scoffed as he remained in thought, and although it was endearing, it was pointless. For him, the handkerchief was worn, and no longer had a purpose. “I don’t need that; you can throw it away.”

 

Any moment Becky held hope for no longer came to fruition. So, her face remained in place as she froze before laughing. The sound strained as Becky slowly tucked back the cloth. Whether she was keeping it or not was not answered. Becky didn’t want to look at Bozz or for her to see the pain made from his carelessness. Over and over, she told herself he didn’t mean to hurt her. And so that was like balm on her wound, and the two continued in silence. Neither saying a word as they walked further away from the people that had been nearby. Soon, there wasn’t a soul near, and the sound of their breathing became more apparent with less background noise.

 

Where were they going? She pondered after realizing she had no clue where he was leading them. The surroundings didn’t feel familiar, and their leaving came out of nowhere. And then a more selfish thought came to mind: He really broke apart from the others just for her? It felt surreal to be treated preciously, and then the blush on her face deepened. He had been looking for her. It must be something special, considering he sought her out alone. And that thought persisted in her mind, not letting her see anything past her emotions. But she didn’t want to be caught up in uneasy feelings, so she took a deep breath.

 

And once she exhaled, her pace began to slow down. Becky kept a close eye on him, observing Bozz’s movements and emotions. But what she saw instead was a detestable sight. There, in all, its glory was the sight of a tattoo along the back of his neck.

 

The taste of disgust coated her mouth, and she began to frown. The meaning behind the tattoo was known to few, and she hated it. Then another memory fluttered back to her head. Anything relating to Bozz always became sharper as she remembered the memories tied with her.

 

It was an afternoon, and Sala had come home with all smiles and kindness. There was a sweetness to a smile that always made Becky’s heart sink. Since it was connected to Bozz, and that was a joy she couldn’t share during that time. Because Sala had returned home with the same tattoo in the same spot - one that she and Bozz had gotten together. Their mother was enraged no less, though her father thought it was great along with Bozz’s father. The two shared beers on weekends, a celebration of a bond shared. 

 

For Becky? That wasn’t the case. She had walked in during the commotion and learned the truth about everything. And her father stopped her and suggested that she not enter yet. For a good reason: her mother was enraged and argued with her sister. And Becky held onto a hope that they would make her remove it - but they didn’t. Because Sala always got her way, and maybe she always had Bozz. 

 

Deep in her memories, Becky didn’t realize the stare that was placed on her. The emotions that fluttered across her face could cause anyone to worry, and Bozz wasn’t any different. He called out Becky’s name a few times. There was an expectation to come back to reality, but that wasn’t for a few seconds. The two had to reach a halt in their walking so that Bozz could make a breakthrough with her.

 

“Bec,” Bozz said her name softly, and that snapped Becky out of her zoned out state. She blinked a few times, trying to process everything, but she focused on the words he said. A slight wrinkle was beginning to form in between her brows. “Is something the matter?” Her eyebrows look like two scrunched worms... and unknowingly, Bozz had assumed he had thought that line to himself. But his mouth had moved, whispering the words loud enough for her to hear.

 

Becky brought her palms to eyebrows, covering them embarrassed. And she laughed, nervously trying to mask her true feelings. And without missing a beat, she cleared her throat and offered a bright smile. The corners of her lips lifted high. “Nothing is wrong! Sorry so spaced out.” 

 

Unconvincing words that drew more attention than deviating them.

 

“What were you thinking about?” he asked curiously, and he placed a hand on her lower back.

 

The slight touch was enough to render her soft, and she was always that way for Bozz. Willingly listening to anything he had to say, that was how her world revolved around his. So, she allowed Bozz to lead her to a small spot. There was a hammock to which he took a seat without waiting for her. And maybe that was why she didn’t want to sit next to him, more so to see the tattoo. Instead, she turned her head to a sea visible along the overpass the balcony provided the two. 

 

Though she could have told him she didn’t like his tattoo, she kept it to herself. “A very annoying story.” 

 

“A story? Hm, come here,” his voice demanded, not leaving any room for objection. The two had developed an odd relationship that such a tone wasn’t reprimanded. Becky felt her knees weaken and thought she’d fall with every step she took. She wobbled until she sat down at his side, her previous resolve easily broken by him. 

 

The tattoo didn’t matter, and she didn’t want to risk losing him with the complaint. Becky knew how far she could go and didn’t want to push Bozz away from her.

 

“I’d rather not tell you about it.” She felt small, and her voice was barely above a whisper.

 

“Then don’t.” 

 

The words would have usually stricken Becky as uncaring, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. Becky found herself surprised by his movement close to her hair. The distance between them had shortened to near nothing, and Becky froze. There, she heard Bozz taking a faint whiff of her hair. And heart began to thud against her chest, a slight excitement to all the planning Becky did. In the end, she wanted Bozz to like her too, and she would do anything for that moment. Even if it hurt her.

 

“Sweet pea scented….” The smell of her sister, one that she kept close to her. It was floral and a hint of sweetness that wasn’t cloyingly heady at all. 

 

Ever since her sister departed, Becky had taken it upon herself to wear the same scent. Before it was faint, a spray here and there, but today it was more prominent. As she had hoped, Bozz acted on it as if he couldn’t stop himself. The aroma brought forth emotions and memories, none of which he could ignore. Bozz had pressed his hand onto her thigh, fingers gripping her gently with need. And she was quick to reciprocate; Becky placed her small hand over his, uttering his name under her breath. 

 

“Bozz....” Breathy and sweet, full of want.

 

And for a brief moment, Bozz only saw her. Not Becky, not the one alive. For Bozz, he so badly wanted to believe that she was here. So, Bozz leaned in close, and Becky followed him. Their heads inclined to one another, and he nearly moved to kiss her, but he didn’t. Bozz froze, and then reality settled in, and he saw Becky now. There wasn’t an afterimage of the past clouding his vision. 

 

He jolted back, regaining control of himself. Even if Becky looks like Sala, she isn’t Sala…. The thoughts burned in his mind as he was avoiding her gaze. Bozz had no desire to see her. “Sorry about that...” 

 

On Becky’s end, she felt confusion, the hand on her thigh no longer there. A ghost of his warmth remained, but she felt abandoned and cold. Every time she thought that she had made a step closer to him, Bozz always deflected her.

 

“Why did you stop?” The burning question left her mouth. And no matter what answer came out, Becky thought she could withstand the truth. But she couldn’t, and it shattered a part of her.

 

“I confused you for Sala,” Bozz told her the truth, drawing a line between them. He scooted a bit away from her, the distance was small, but it felt wide with the weight of his words. And then, Bozz used that hand to scratch his head before he lowered his voice. Not to draw her into a mood but to heighten the seriousness of the conversation. “I brought you out here so I could get a chance to ask you about what really happened on that boat three years ago.” 

 

That’s why he … brought me here. Becky thought, bitterness beginning to spread across her heart. However, she never wanted Bozz to see the worst of her, so she outwardly responded to him, “I … wasn’t on that boat.” The expression on her face appeared subdued, and she looked away from him. “And I don’t want to go back to that topic …” She lowered her head, lips pressing into a thin line. 

 

However, the image of Sala wasn’t easily erased, not when her sister sat next to him. If he closed his eyes and let himself become lost in their similarities, he could find a brief peace. But not a permanent solution, sadly enough. Bozz decided he needed to abstain from touching her or mistake her for someone else again. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his shorts, slowly his leg beginning to jitter. Right now, he needed answers - the truth that seemed more complex as time passed.

 

“I refrained until this moment … I could have brought the topic up before, but I gave you time, and now I have to know what you saw.” Bozz didn’t use any sweet words to coax her or cater to her needs. Instead, Bozz tried treating her as an adult.

 

Someone worth holding a conversation, and that was a first for Becky. The pressure and shift made her feel at a loss, unable to have an answer that would feed his endless inquiries. How she wished she could hide behind her feelings, but she couldn’t. Not when the truth was now gnawing at her, and Bozz demanded it. What could she say? It was a good thing she was sitting on the hammock, or else she would have fallen. It hurt that he didn’t believe her. 

 

“I was on the beach when….” Each word stumbling after one another, but that was making Bozz’s patience wear thin.

 

“If there’s someone that knows something, it’s you,” Bozz spoke over her with power behind his vocals, no longer treating her delicately.

 

Becky felt his anger slowly rise in the tone of his voice. It wasn’t chilly anymore— the slight shift intensifying the atmosphere. The more she stared at him, the more his anger became present, and the taller he felt. Slowly, a stranger sat next to her. And then a terrifying thought came to mind:

 

What would he do if I said I had something to do with it?

 

Becky didn’t have much time to dwell on that question because her surroundings changed. Suddenly Bozz moved in front of her. The hammock shifted, but he steadied it. The glint in his gaze was one Becky had never seen before, and genuine fear began to build. Bozz lowered his hand down onto her shoulder, and usually, Becky adored every touch from him. But that was because when he did allow closeness, he was thinking of Sala. But this felt foreign and terrifying, goosebumps beginning to coat her arm. The reaction caused her to slap his hand away, not wanting him any closer to her than he had to be.

 

That led him to take a step back, quiet and in shock. Neither of them could say a word at that moment. During the fiasco, the echo of the slap passed by an eavesdropper who’d been stumbling into the area. But neither of them noticed nor cared. Bozz had mentally and emotionally pushed Becky into a corner. And not once did he care for her well-being, only the answers she held away from him.

 

“You brought me out here for that … “ Becky finally spoke, her voice shaken in an effort to conceal the urge to cry right there. So, she trampled on her feelings, letting the sobs die at the back of her throat. Even if her face was an open book.

 

Becky had nothing to say, nothing to share.

 

“I have to know what you saw.” Bozz pleaded, and once more, she was being sent back to a time of grief. He opened closed wounds for his selfishness, and Becky’s posture stiffened.

 

Much like the intense atmosphere she found herself at that moment, she reflected back to the police questioning following her sister’s drowning. The officers’ voices were nothing more than static noise as she stood there, not believing that Sala was gone. To this day, she half-expected her sister to come back waltzing in, a laugh that erases everything. But that never happened; instead, silence followed. She recollected seeing people around her sister in a video when her sister’s body finally washed up. Familiar limbs now mangled with weeds, her being placed on a stretcher. She was limp, and her face was hardly the same as it was before. The sound of sirens wailed, fading under the chatter of people. 

 

Those on the boat that day were questioned on the circumstances of Sala’s passing. Or rather, the fact or not she jumped off and if there was any reasoning behind her actions.

 

Becky would never forget; she remembered hearing her mother cry out. Not one that could be connected to joy, the kind that was tainted with endless desperation. Unlike anything Becky had ever heard. Brent’s mother stood close by, doing her best to comfort her along with the other relatives. Becky felt the heaviness of sadness but never cried. In front of others, she would press her hand to her eye. And often, she paired the appearance with noise that would come out of her mouth. That alone was enough for others to deem it as grief. All those years, not even once did she shed a tear. 

 

Perhaps she had lost a part of herself in Sala’s death, or maybe it was the emotions she allowed to flourish. Inside she was glad that she’d have a chance with Bozz. Was that selfish? That feeling only grew stronger. Even beyond death, her sister still got in her way. Perhaps it was her inferiority that caused her to remain detached from Sala’s death. So, she latched onto resentment; it was easier to blame her that way.

 

Becky shook her head, not wanting to delve deeper into the darkness that lurked within her heart. She breathed in a staggering breath, finding herself trembling. Becky shut her eyes to keep her tears back, not now. She would not cry, she hadn’t before, and she knew it was because of grief. Instead, it was for the greed and selfishness twisting inside of her, and that still wasn’t enough. But she opened her eyes upon hearing someone say Bozz’s name, a welcomed distraction.

 

“B…. Bo… zzzz?!” Whoever it was, plainly drunk by the way he said Bozz’s name. The hiccups continued, several slurred words heard but no recognition for them. The tense moment shattered since Bozz glanced back to see who the person was — Rupert. 

 

When the realization dawned, Bozz left it like that - Ruper was drunk. There wasn’t a need to inspect him further or shoo him away. Instead, he focused his attention on Becky, intending to keep her near. With that in mind, Bozz grabbed Becky’s arm firmly. A vice-grip that felt more like confinement than a gentle hold, and that pushed fear into Becky. The guilt of her thoughts began to scare her because she didn’t want Bozz to know. 

 

“You have something to do with her death!” His voice boomed, and that caused Becky to frantically tug at her arm. But it wasn’t until she started to tremble did Bozz let her go. The fear was enough to distract him from his frustration, and Becky used that moment to run off. 

 

And Bozz breathed heavily, setting aside his concern to place blame onto her. “It must have been her … she must have done something to Sala…” 

 

With that in mind, he clenched his hands into a fist. Not to harm but to get ready to start running after Becky. However, the thought didn’t last for too long since a voice slowly rose. Perfectly heard through the quietness of the night.

 

“Owh! My dwink-” The soft slurred mumblings were coming from Rupert, his figure coming closer. And then, as he tried to steady himself, Ruper ended up tripping over onto one knee. 

 

In a split second, Bozz reached out to help Rupert stand. With a steady hand, he made sure Rupert didn’t hurt himself. He didn’t bother going after Becky, figuring his friend needed a hand. And perhaps, if Becky had observed Bozz without rose-tinted lenses, there would have been a moment of clarity. Becky’s treatment wasn’t as kind as she thought, not when compared to other people in Bozz’s life. But she wasn’t ready to look at her situation clearly, hence why she ran.

 

“Shouldn’t drink too much, man,” Bozz told him, but he didn’t sound mad. However, Rupert didn’t answer coherently. There were a few jumbled words mixed in before slowly Rupert’s noises were barely understandable.

 

“I’m sorry...” Rupert mumbled quietly. Soft and mournful.

 

“Hand me the drink; you’ve drunk too much, Ru.” Bozz let out a sigh, using one arm to steady him and the other to grab hold of the drink tightly held by Rupert. And despite being drunk, he still had enough willpower to prevent Bozz from taking his liquor.

 

“Noh!” Rupert clenched to his bottle, allowing himself to be helped up onto his feet. Bozz only sighed, leading Rupert the opposite way that Becky took off. Quietness blanketing over them aside from the occasional hiccup and chittering from Rupert’s side. Bozz had grown accustomed to these antics and decided to think back to Becky. At the thought of her, his brows furrowed together, and his lips curled up into a sneer.

 

She’ll have to tell me soon enough. The line burned in Bozz’s mind while he pulled Rupert further down a familiar path. A wretched sensation of anger culminated from the thought of a hand, desperately reaching for someone’s help, but no hand reaching down. His chest throbbed like a hungry lion, hiding its intentions through a slow walk, gradually increasing. 

 

However, his mind was kept busy as he tried to retrace steps back. The pair went down a rocky path, the now shining moonlight illuminating their path. At least Bozz had that, considering he found himself too upset to figure out which way would lead them back into the hotel. 

 

“I’m... sorreh...” Rupert continued to say; out of breath, Bozz had Rupert take a seat on the ground. 

 

“Take it easy, lay there till you sober up.” Bozz encouraged him, not wanting Rupert to know about his feelings. And even if he did, Bozz figured the liquor would blur his emotions away from memory.

 

A slight noise was made from Rupert, and a repeat of apologies stumbled in between. Nothing that Bozz took to heart, guessing that’s what happens due to overconsumption. He figured Rupert would quiet down eventually. Time was needed to heal, and Bozz found himself still grieving. The loss still felt fresh, so he walked over to the edge of the rocky cliff and stared down at a puddle of water. At his side, nothing. His expression briefly shifted into one of grief, short ended by something rushing by the corner of his eye. When he tried tracing it, he stared over to a large boulder that cast a shadow, barely covering the moonlight; the light shone, causing Bozz to squint. 

 

Seeing as it was nothing, he turned his attention back to the dancing black waves.

 

“Sala...” He called out her name, voice shaky as he tried to remember when he talked about her last time. No one wanted to speak of her, not even Becky.

 

The pain of her departure made everyone stiffen, and Bozz knew he would find out why she left. Because they had sworn to be by one another’s side. However, that wasn’t the case. So, when he gazed into the depths of the murky water, he had hoped for an answer. The deep waves reminded him of that night, the memories, although faded, still replaying over and over.

 

“If only you were here right now, what we’d talk about … you always loved the sight of the night sky.” 

 

Slowly all the words he had always wanted to tell her filled the silence of the night. With Rupert, drunk and on the side, there wasn’t a total sense of loneliness. And then memories began to unearth themselves, like forgotten photos as they came to mind. The past mixing on the possibilities of the future had Sala been alive.

 

“Fuck...” He envisioned himself sitting in an old Kawasaki car, with her on the hood, at his side, the smell of gravel behind the school parking lot late at night. Enjoying cheap bags of chips they’d purchased at a run-down gas station. Not that he cared much. It tastes best with the company. Bozz lamented, knowing that he would never get to experience it ever again. He only realized how horrible they tasted after her passing. It wasn’t the same.  “Sala, forgive me for not being there.” 

 

A broken apology, a stitched-together plea. 

 

“Forgive me for not having been there when you needed me most …” Bozz knelt down to his knees, pressing his palm into the puddle. Coolness washed over him, but he didn’t pull away. The ripples shook along with his fingers, giving him the sensation of someone pressing their hand to his. Similarly, the kind of sensation he’d get from holding Sala’s hand, one he could still feel when deep in thought.

 

 He couldn’t bear the thought of her struggling to breathe, her mind racing; what were her final thoughts? Did she hate him for not being there? Despite the brief argument the pair had before she had sailed on the boat, he never imagined that such a thing would happen on the sunniest day of his life. All other days following that being dead and dreary. With little meaning. 

 

 “I’ve been stuck in that summer ever since,” Bozz mourned, the weight of her passing never leaving him. There was a vulnerability he had never shared with anyone before except with her. 

 

The emptiness began to layer atop one another without end. And then a dark thought began to loom over Bozz’s mind. A permanent solution to everlasting pain. There was a feeling, a small idea that had sprouted since Sala had never returned alive. The need to join her side, away from a world that no longer spoke of her.

 

“Maybe I should just jump off from here ….” His sight faded from tears forming, blurry lines, and pain. The ache felt heavy and spread all over him.

 

The surroundings were nothing more than hazy objects; none of it mattered. With each shaky breath, a slight echo became carved out of his throat, but his pain was no longer his. Because unknowingly, Bozz heard Ruper break into an uncontrollable sob. The reason behind it was simple: Bozz’s pain. The story now warped Rupert’s drunk state. His mind jumbled with endless emotions, but more importantly, guilt tugged at his every word and action.

 

“I’M SORRY!” The wail held a feeling that Bozz didn’t associate with Rupert; the friend he had known was someone else.

 

There, Rupert wailed with a bottle in his hand. The tears were beginning to form and spill from his eyes. Helplessness caused him to wobble, unable to move from his spot as he used one hand to hit against the ground. The sound became a slow beat that made the situation more noticeable, a dampening atmosphere.

 

Bam! Bam!

 

“I’M SORRRY!” His pleads soon became uncontrollable screams of agony; Bozz stared back to Rupert, swinging his arms around in a craze as if swatting something away. More dangerously, his hands were swaying as if wanting to land a punch. There was no help for his friend, not on his brink of insanity. 

 

“Rupert....” No matter how much he called out to him, the pain Rupert faced didn’t subside.

 

“LEAVE ME ALONE! AGAHHHTTTH!”

 

The heavy breaths and determination to leave made Rupert make a sudden choice. He no longer wanted to be weighed down anymore; the truth wanted to erupt. Despite his attempt to stand, the alcohol kept Rupert from maintaining his balance. Then, a small yelp was heard before he stumbled. He fell back to the ground hard, scraping his palm against the jagged rocks. The pain stung, making his flesh throb with pain, but that wasn’t enough. There was an agony that could never pass away like the wound he obtained.

 

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL YOU! I LOVED YOU! I ALWAYS LOVED YOU!”

 

The statement hung there, and for a moment, Rupert felt a weight lifted from his soul. However, Bozz? The young man couldn’t comprehend the situation. Sudden confessions were made, and his sense of reality was slowly becoming distorted.

 

“What?...” The question stabbed through the quietness, and Bozz was left with the truth. Cries and sobs were heard from a supposed friend, yet no sympathy was extended to those endless tears.

 

Bozz only listened, quiet and filled with a growing suspicion. 

 

“BUT I’Ve LIVED DROWnING EVERYDAY EVER SINCE, IN MY SORROW, GUILT, MISERY! ISN’T THAT ENOUGH FOR YOU?! IT COULD HAVE BEEN HIM AND NOT YOU!” 

 

The string of statements hung loudly in the air, none of them forgotten. It was clear that Bozz’s friend was grieving, unable to find a proper outlet. Rupert’s bloodshot eyes searched around desperately until they landed on Bozz. The glint in Rupert’s gaze implied that he was ready to harm. Thankfully, Bozz stood up in time to watch Rupert trip after a few rushed steps. The sound of flesh hitting the ground, but the pain didn’t stop him. And Rupert took off for him as a deranged animal. 

 

“What are you insinuat-” Bozz stepped aside, maneuvering Rupert’s attempts at grabbing at his neck. Bozz forced him to the ground with his strength, urging Rupert to calm down - going as far to call him by his full name. Slowly, he tried to lessen the pressure, but none of that mattered. That only gave Rupert more space to flop around before Bozz reapplied pressure. “Relax, Rupert.”

 

However, that sent him into another frenzy. Although Bozz couldn’t make sense of Rupert’s claims, he felt inclined to listen. He tilted his head to the side and waited.

 

“I WILL KILL YOU! YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO DIE!” Persistent threats thrown in his direction, reddened eyes pinned on Bozz. There weren’t lies, only grief and anger directed at him. “ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!” And then he thrashed harder against Bozz, spitting out the final line that would shine a light on the truth. “I HAD TO WATCH HER DROWN! “ 

 

The reveal shocked Bozz, and he repeated a single word:

 

“Her…?” The blaming, the drowning, and the guilt. Images of Sala flitted into his mind, but he couldn’t believe such a thought. So, he gripped Rupert harder in his grasp and questioned him. “What the hell is h-” 

 

“SALA!!” Rupert yelled with all that he had left, agony intertwined with each note. The noise caught Bozz by surprise, and that’s when Rupert took the chance to attack. In his haze of dizziness, he reached over. He clamped down, not letting go. Nearly causing one of his teeth to rip aside from the pressure, his determination and focus on getting a hold of Bozz. 

 

If Bozz left... does that mean Sala comes back? A dark and intrusive thought brought out by the alcohol burning in his system. Secrets and lies whispered as a voice to encourage him to cause more harm than good. Rupert succeeded in suddenly overpowering Bozz, causing Bozz to snap out of the second of thought. Bozz found himself pressed to the ground with Rupert’s hands wrapped around his neck, viciously trying to strangle him. With the crazed look in his eye, he wanted him dead, and at that moment, Bozz remembered that Sala would mention to him. 

 

The flashback was to a time where the two were side by side, looking out into nothing. Sala had leaned against him; the brief smell of her familiar scent made him sigh in contentment. But it never lasted long, and the fear in her voice was soft. Bozz had thought nothing of it, but he began to wonder if she should have paid attention. 

 

“Rupert keeps flirting with me...!” Sala complained, a slight frown beginning to appear on her face. But when she saw Bozz’s knowing look, she rolled her eyes. “And I turned him down.”

 

“He knows we’re dating, don’t worry too much.”

 

“But did you tell him?”

 

The question would linger, and there was never an answer. Bozz didn’t want to admit that neither of them had the heart. The two wanted to keep to themselves, and Bozz figured the kid could read the room. After all, she was always with him. So, when the memories faded away and he was left gasping on the ground, he felt regret. Bozz figured he should have put Rupert in his place a long time ago. Anger slowly settled and allowed him to navigate through his emotions until he found the source.

 

He killed her?! The thought thumped in his mind; rage began to encompass his entire being. The last moments were not at the fault of Becky but Rupert? He had watched him laugh and live, things that Sala could never experience again. Bozz’s body trembled, rage wanting to erupt from as he pushed against Rupert. Sheer willpower and grief caused Bozz to be more than he was. “YOU KILLED HER?!” Bozz shouted over Rupert’s grunts and exasperated wails. 

 

Though he had his suspicions, Bozz hadn’t thought of Rupert having been on the boat that day with her. Bozz had suspected all the people that day, but he didn’t want to believe it was him, but his power was dwindling. The more Rupert applied pressure, the less air would go into him. And now his lungs burned with a need to breathe, slowly his actions becoming more dulled.

 

“He’s TRYING TO KILL ME!” Bozz gurgled slightly, finding his sight narrowing, the deep heaves of Rupert growing over him. He could see Rupert’s breath drawing closer down towards him with every wheeze. 

 

Bozz suddenly jolted his palm up against Rupert’s nose, causing Rupert to fall back. Steps were taken as he stumbled back, having the inability to stabilize himself. Bozz flew onto him, grabbing the back of Rupert’s now tattered plaid shirt. A portion ripped down, revealing a slew of scratch marks. But that didn’t matter to Bozz; instead, he pulled at him and brought him to his knees. There, a sniveling and fearful person remained. No longer was he lost in derangement, now fear appeared. Rupert trembled, unable to control his movements as slight noise whimpered out his mouth.

 

“Pl- please, fo... forgive me, Bo... Bozz!” Rupert begged, not wanting to face pain, much less death. Despite being drunk, Rupert was slowly sobering and realizing the position he was left in. Bozz only halted, tightening his grasp but not landing a hit on him. For the time being, his anger evolved into fury at what he heard. 

 

“Why?” Coldness coated each word and accused Rupert of his crime. “You murdered her.”

 

“No, I... I didn’t!” Rupert blathered, trying to appease Bozz the only way he knew: with the truth.

 

Rupert slowly did a retelling, revealing his version of the truth — one that repeatedly replayed without stop. That summer day, the heat was more apparent than most days. But, not one that anyone wanted to miss him included. Rupert spotted Bozz storming off onto his motorcycle. Without a second thought, Bozz sped off. The sound of his engine slowly fading off into the distance. While that occurred, behind the billboard, Rupert was hidden before he crept out.  At the very least, he avoided Bozz’s rage since he tended to take it out on others. 

 

“Rupert!” The sound of familiar voices calling out to him, and so he began to walk towards the beach. However, he kept hidden, and he spotted a boat nearby. 

 

However, while he watched over everyone, Rupert noticed that Sala was talking to Brent. At the same time, they remained in the boat that remained docked. They were both visibly upset, neither of them finding some sort of peace. While Rupert continued to watch, he wondered if he should interject, but then someone else was coming into view. Faint footsteps and a girly tone. A girl soon came into view, talking to Sala, and she was all smiles. The two girls went into the boat while Brent looked over and made eye contact with Rupert. That made him freeze before he turned. Rupert quickly gazed elsewhere and joined the others on a separate boat as he wondered what they were talking about.

 

At some point, time had passed while they went out further. The engine on the boat Rupert was on stopped working, prompting them to get on the other vessel with Brent and the rest. But because of the transfer, one way or another, Brent had fallen into the water. All the while, Rupert watched with a disturbing stare. There was no intention to help; after all, there were others. But Rupert recalled how upset he felt when Sala dived into the water to go after him - she knew he couldn’t swim. That kindness is what drew everyone’s attention, something that Rupert still thought of to this day. 

 

And he continued his story, remembering how she had helped Brent onto the boat. But as he climbed on, a wave had decided to creep up and swept her away viciously. Not a trace of her left, but that was the smallest of their issues. The other members of the boat were separated and feeling frantic. So while they tried to give Brent CPR, Sala was trying her hardest to swim back to the ship but falling victim to exhaustion. 

 

Thankfully, she had some energy left. So, when she finally made it, she tried to reach up, only to see it was Rupert. He had been watching the entire time, wanting to be the knight in shining armor - but then his dark thoughts began to linger. Sala faced danger at that moment since he grabbed hold of her hand. A vice-like grip that didn’t go away, even when she thanked him. 

 

“Thank you... Rupert?” She sounded confused and a hint of fear. Only then did she notice Rupert’s angry expression that tinted his features. There were only harsh edges and lines, and Rupert squeezed her wrist. A small yelp heard, but he didn’t stop.

 

“You rejected me for Bozz, Sala.” Empty words paired with a hollow voice, and Sala was beginning to feel helpless. No matter how much she wanted to climb onto the boat, Rupert wouldn’t let her. Her heart’s beats and the sound of the waves beginning to fill her head. “How could you?”

 

The question ended with the boat shaking, feverishly and with need.

 

“I don’t… I really don’t understand, Ru.” Sala fumbled, blinking away the drops of water on her face. However, there was no choice, but her voice sounded like bells for her to use a sweet attitude. She was breathing rapidly, her body trembling. “Can you help me up, please?”

 

The soft plead made Rupert want to laugh, and he knew that he didn’t want to help her. Because if he extended an arm, she would grab it and head over to Bozz. Each and every time, without fail. So, he grasped hold of her wrist one last time before he gave her a bittersweet smile. Tears were streaming down his face, but this was goodbye. Since he couldn’t have her, then no one can, right? All he had to do was get rid of her for good, and she would no longer haunt him.

 

“HAVE HIM HELP YOU!” Rupert shouted, flinging her hand away; a massive wave splashed across the side of the boat, sending her hurling under the swirling masses of aquatic walls. 

 

So, he watched her as he cried, her final moments splashing against the waves. Her hands were reaching out for anyone but flailing as she washed away further. Her last moments would forever be theirs; no one else could have it. Not until he had to convey her final moments, the loneliness she faced with the cruelty of her death. And when someone did finally arrive, they asked about what happened to Sala. Rupert turned over crying, anxiety, and nervousness, motivating him to act correctly. 

 

“I-I had her, but she slipped from my hand!” Fear and tears as he trembled - there wasn’t a need for them to know the truth.

 

After all, she didn’t hold tight enough. So, was it really his fault?

 

“She’s over there!” Rupert remembered the sound of people yelling. They shouted over for the others to follow. They all looked far out to Sala, frantically trying to keep herself afloat. And for a moment, Rupert felt fear as he hoped that no one would know his sins.

 

From her lips, Rupert knew she was saying Bozz’s name. Even in a moment of life or death. But he watched as life exited her eyes, and she succumbed to death’s cold embrace.

 

Bozz, Bozz - save me!

 

Her sweet voice was never heard but forever haunting Rupert’s mind. Like a curse, the sound of water and her gasping lulled him into insanity.

 

“SHE STILL CALLED FOR YOU!” Rupert accused him when he finished the story; no longer was it fault. 

 

Rupert, in his derangement, blamed Bozz till the end. Had Sala chosen him, he could have saved her. But to her dying breath, she wanted Bozz. So, he had no choice but to make sure to let go of her.

 

“AND YOU LET HER DIE!” Snapped Bozz, reminding him of the weight of his sin. So, Bozz shut Rupert off with a fist to his face, forcing Rupert to cower in a fetal position. The pose Rupert chose didn’t help him. Instead, Bozz grabbed the back of Rupert’s hair and slammed his head into the nearby puddle. 

 

Waves flew overhead, splashing against the crusty boulders that surrounded the pair. Rupert kicked his feet but couldn’t kick up as Bozz sat on his back. All the while, he repeatedly used all his strength to tug Rupert’s head up before smashing it down into the puddle. There Bozz kept him as long as he could until a portion of Rupert’s hair ripped. However, that didn’t stop him; instead, leading Bozz to grab the side of his head. There, he smudged Rupert’s face under the growing puddle, mixing with crimson. Rupert’s attempt to get free only grew weaker with each passing second.

 

Eventually, whatever fight Rupert held was beginning to fade away. Soon the struggle ended, but that wasn’t enough to ease his growing rage. Bozz needed to vent more of his anger, the fury he held burning inside of him. Without thinking, he grabbed the closest thing to him: a decently sized rock. Although Rupert had long quieted down, not a peep heard from him that didn’t stop Bozz. He bludgeoned into the back of Rupert’s head repeatedly.

 

The blur of events easing the pain he felt, and he began to heavily breathe until he stopped using the rock to alter Rupert’s face. His hand lowered, and the stone rolled out of his hand, slowly making its way to the puddle. The water, discolored, barely wiped away the sticky blood. And that’s when Bozz came to his sense, but it was too late - he had crossed a line. He looked around to make sure he was alone and went on to drag the body off of the cliff. Each step felt like a routine he had to follow, and Bozz realized he was detaching himself from the situation. He rolled Rupert off and watched his former body tumble against several sharp boulders until he heard a splash, the body disappearing into the ocean’s darkness. 

 

“I…” Bozz stared down at his hands, turning over to a puddle; he tried washing his hands as best as he could. His reflection, now in red. His hands only trembled. “Damn…” 

 

There were no words left, and he fell to his knees. Nothing felt real anymore, and there wasn’t an ounce of warmth. Bozz felt his hands go cold, and he wondered when did he cross the point of no return...

Back in the lobby, Sandra, Carl, and the others returned from having found an eatery. The small group had food in hand and were making their way to the area that everyone was slowly gathering around. Everything felt normal, albeit a few missing people here and there. However, that much was expected - thankfully, one by one, the others started to appear. From a distance, people could see Bark, along with  Firecrackers in hand. And from the left, they saw Carl bringing in two trays along with Sandra. There were happy faces, knowing the day would end up better with some grub in their stomachs. 

 

“Where’d Rupert get to?” Carl wondered out loud once they reached Bark. And since Sandra had been by his side the entire time, she realized that a few of them were missing. She looked around before resting her gaze on Bark, hoping that he would have helpful information.

 

“Dunno, he slipped off after some drinks to look for Bozz or something,” Bark told him, shrugging in return but sticking close with the pair. He tried to peak in the tray but earned a huff from Sandra in return.

 

But, the three made small talk and the tranquility of the island. Neither had spotted anything too weird. So, while they chattered, each one quieted down when they found Jeremey, who remained deep in thought. So, they decided to spring him with questions, drawing him back to reality.

 

“I knew you left us early, but I thought you did so you could find Stephen; where’s K.C?” Carl prompted a question, a look of worry touching his features.

 

“And we find you here, by yourself!” Sandra interjects, a slight pout pressing her lips together.

 

“Sorry guys…” Jeremy looked up at them, smoothing his hands over his pants. He straightened his posture and gave an eye roll. He was far too tired to deal with the usual antics of KC. “I thought of checking on her, but that KC… I don’t know where she went.” Jeremy folded his leg over his knee, pressing his mouth onto his palm. The following words were mumbling out, more so to himself than to the others. “Besides, she’d only argue with me some more instead of believing me, so there’s no point.”  

 

“Aw, cheer up! Have Firecracks’s!” Bark held out a firecracker, but Jeremy passed on the offer with a smug look. And then, Jeremey stood from his seat and decided to leave for the time being - he needed to figure out his problems first.

 

“I’ll go make a call … you guys stay here; let the others know as well,” Jeremy called out to them, walking from them but knowing that he wouldn’t be lost.

 

After all, everything here seemed predictable enough for Jeremy. So, when he stepped away, it was to no surprise that they called out. 

 

“Don’t take too long,” Sandra called out, sweet with no implications. However, the boys by her side had other thoughts in mind.

 

“He’s gonna go jack off!” Bark snorted, laughing with glee before doing a small dance of excitement.

 

“Come on, dude! Don’t blow his spot like that!” Carl nudged him, trying to calm Bark down.

 

“Ayyooo!” Shouted the other two. Jeremy ignored their vile comments, shutting the door. He went down the steps, passing palm trees. His sandals flopped behind his feet. The way Jeremy walked, not like he typically did. He felt his calves weak; he felt sick to his stomach but wasn’t sure why. Those cookies K.C made … He thought to himself. “I put up with too much, that girl” A sigh escaped him. 

 

Jeremy lifted his forearm, pausing under a pole that offered him more light. And beside it, a lantern-shaped in the form of a terrified face. He checked his watch. “Only three hours in the evening...” Lowering his hand, he brought out the pamphlet from his pocket and began his search for the phone booth detailed on it. 

 

There, Jeremy lowered it below the lantern and got a look at it; as he raised his head, he could have sworn he saw eye lights reflecting back at him. It sent shivers down his back, and he stared out to the darkness of the bushy treeline but soon brushed it off. There wasn’t any point in being paranoid now. As he resumed his walk, the lantern behind him shook over, soon being lifted by someone concealed in the shadows.   

 

Jeremy didn’t look back, nor did he notice. He had begun to hyperfocus on his central matters, mumbling out loud. His concerns on K.C. “I’ll go find her after I call to check in on Maci.” 

 

Finally, he caught sight of the phone booth, and then he began to pick up his speed. Not once noticing that there were looming shadows nearby, they were easily disguised amongst the growing darkness. Not what he had imagined. Musty metal lurching off one side, holes riddled along the side of the frame.The asphalt around the booth, riddled with cracks. 

 

It was an old light red paint job, slowly being chipped by a howling wind that continued to sweep down against its backside. I thought this was a five-star hotel... Jeremy thought to himself and gulped as he hesitated. The uncertainty to continue let him waste a few seconds, but then proceeded to approach the booth. Anxiety creeping in, similar to a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. He wanted to make the call and get the guys to help him search for K.C. 

 

Jeremy pressed his hand onto the glass, leaving an imprint. Dirt surely accumulated over time, and he had to dust off the remains on his clothes. “Who knows for how many months this has been here without any maintenance. Tch, why didn’t the manager let us know?” Jeremy pondered out loud and couldn’t peer inside; he grabbed the handle and went inside regardless.

 

Inside, although the booth itself is old, the board and a chair were clean. For how observant Jeremy is, it sent alarm bells. That meant to some degree that it was in use, but he didn’t let that thought continue any further.

 

“Then again, at least they kept the inside clean.” That was his version of comfort, and a sigh drained out through his mouth. The action allowed him to feel his insides scrunch. All the while, he tried to breathe in the air inside of the booth. But that ended poorly, as he fell into a fit of coughs due to the strong scent of disinfectant. “Disinfectant?! Aw, gash …” He took a quick glance past his shoulders and made himself go in to make the call.

 

It took four long seconds before he heard a ring. Followed by another low ring that changed up to a static one. Such an annoying noise would make anyone pry it away. And Jeremy was no exception. He held it far enough from his ear that he could hear the ringing bellowing until it went dead silent.  

 

“Answer already...” Jeremy muttered, slowly growing restless. All his hopes were placed on the call working. A low ringing continued over the sound of flies flicking about besides the old phone booth. Jeremy grew more and more impatient until he couldn’t take it and simply hung the phone back, tugging his hand from the tangled wires. 

 

 Suddenly the phone rang. That made Jeremy freeze in surprise, but acting against his better judgment, he picked up. “Hello?”

 

A gulp from Jeremy’s end, and he waited. One second passed, and then two —

 

“Hello, Jeremy, is it?” Although that posed a question, Jeremy recognized that voice since he heard it earlier. And his gaze narrowed in thought, a finger tapping against his lips.

 

“You sound … Familiar,” Jeremy muttered, gripping the phone tightly before an idea came to mind. “The … manager?”

 

The sound of an affirming laugh was heard, and the sound brought a chill down Jeremy’s spine. No longer did he feel secure, a sinking suspicion edging around his mind.

 

“Yes- It seems you’ve grown suspicious of us here?” The manager sounded disappointed, but a hint of relief was heard.

 

“Ah- what why would-” Jeremy was quick on the uptake, spluttering as he tried to find a way to stall for time. He needed to run now but didn’t know where. 

 

“You’re in that booth. I’m watching you right now.” 

 

Not a single word was heard from him, and there was a sense of defeat. Jeremy’s heart sank, startled. But he knew that if he stayed any longer, that would be the end. So, he quickly scrambled out and swung the door open. To his surprise, when he came out of the phone booth, four men were standing outside with an assortment of different weapons. They all weren’t happy at all, their attention on Jeremy. 

 

“Uh …” Taking a step aside to turn and run, Jeremy spotted another group going up both sides of the path. 

 

All at once, they came at him. The shock would make anyone freeze up, but Jeremy took off the opposite way, grappling with one that managed to grab at the side of his long sleeve. Due to the fear and adrenaline, Jeremy was able to react quickly. The boy knew one false move would be his end, so he kept a steady mind. Jeremy punched him away and resumed his run but felt himself lose balance, crashing to the ground. Something had been shot at him, on his thigh, an intense stinging warm sensation spread quickly down his leg. To his horror, he looked down to see the tip of an arrowhead lodged through his thigh; he could then feel the ridge of his bone smashed.

 

Naturally, he extended to grip the side of his thigh but couldn’t move. All of the men reached him, stampeding in. Jeremy found himself struggling to breathe, using his forearm to block some of the kicks to no avail. He felt a cold surface wrap around his neck, from the feeling, knowing it was chained. A camera hidden within one of the palm trees showed Jeremy being dragged away as he attempted to swing. However, his arms were caught, and he was lifted over the group. 

 

“They got him.” A voice echoed from the entrance of the room.

 

There, a being watched over many monitors that displayed locations in and around the hotel. There wasn’t a single monitor that wasn’t spying on the new-found guest. So, it was to no surprise, they leaned over to stare at the screen, which showed Jeremy being carried away despite his struggle.

 

“Perfect,” A small exchange. A young boy turned around to see an old man, both of them holding a similar goal. “9 more to go.”

 

“Should be easy-” 

 

“Where are the others?”

 

“Mr.Beltros the others are in the lobby; two others strayed off-camera.”

 

“Have them captured; we have only tonight before the Ballad starts. If done well, we can win early.” Moonlight shined in, creating a single visible spot in the darkened room. The child continued to walk alongside the old man, both ensuring that their plan would continue. “You two, go out and prepare to take those of the lobby.” 

 

With a single nod from Mr.Beltros, the two village men on standby made their exit from the room accordingly. 

 

 The hotel manager walked to the moonlight, removing his eyepatch. His smile flapped back, shoving his wrinkly cheeks aside to show a single pale finger slip out of the corner of one of his cheeks.