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"This is crazy," Eve interjects, her voice a desperate plea in the background. "Stop it!"
But her words fall on deaf ears as the tension between us crackles with electrifying intensity. Everyone remains silent, recognizing that this is a battle between two alphas, each vying for dominance in the tribe.
A ripple of anticipation washes over the others observing, their attention drawn to the confrontation unfolding before them. Just a meter away, the savages silently watch at the invisible border with keen interest, their eyes alight with understanding as they recognize the primal struggle for dominance playing out between two contenders.
With a swift motion, Mr. Coldwell assumes a fighting stance. His movements are fluid and practiced, a testament to his years of training. I square my shoulders, ready to meet his challenge head-on, relying on my own strength and instinct.
The first blow comes swiftly, a blur of motion as his fist arcs towards me with lethal intent.
The clash is fierce and relentless, fists flying and bodies contorting in a flurry of motion. I throw everything I have into each punch. The sounds of grunts and curses fill the air, mingling with the thud of flesh on flesh as we exchange blow after punishing blow.
Despite my best efforts, I find myself slowly being pushed back. Mr. Coldwell's superior skill and strength prove to be more than a match for my own raw power. Each blow lands with bone-jarring force, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through my body as I fight to maintain my footing.
But even as the odds stack against me, I refuse to yield, drawing upon every last ounce of strength and determination within me. With a primal roar, I launch myself forward, my fists crashing against Mr. Coldwell's defenses with relentless ferocity.
With a final, decisive strike, he incapacitates me, leaving me sprawled on the ground, defeated but not broken.
As I struggle to catch my breath, Mr. Coldwell stands victorious, his expression a mix of triumph and respect. The battle may be over, but the rivalry between us burns on, fueling the fire that drives us.
The savage tribesmen watch with silent reverence, their eyes alight with understanding as they bore witness to this battle.
“You have a choice,” Mr. Coldwell says as he picks up his clothes but doesn’t put them back on. Instead, he gathers his stolen weapons and stands among the other four. “You can come back to the camp with us or choose your fate with them. With us, I won’t stand for defiance. I’m responsible for all of you, and I intend to keep that accountability until we get rescued.”
I watch all five turn their backs and march off, and I lay my head back down on the ground as the truth of my situation rings in my ears.
I could disappear forever, and it wouldn’t matter—not to my father and brother, not to these guys with whom I’m stranded on this island.
The words echo in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, each syllable driving home the harsh reality of my existence.
I shut my eyes and remain here, defeated on the ground of this jungle, naked without an ounce of dignity left in me.
It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a truth that cuts deeper than any blade.
And in this moment, the truth hits me like a ton of bricks: I’ve always been the expendable one. Disposable. A mere footnote in my family’s lives, the second son, easily forgotten and replaced. I could vanish into the night without so much as a second thought, and it wouldn't make a damn bit of difference to any of them.
A bitter laugh bubbles up from deep within me, a harsh sound that grates against my throat as I struggle to swallow the lump of despair that threatens to choke me.
What is the point of it all?
Why pretend to be someone I’m not or try to fit in with people who don't even see me?
Maybe it’s time to stop pretending. Perhaps it’s time to embrace the truth of my own insignificance and disappear into the void, where at least I won't have to pretend anymore.
Suddenly, I hear a rustle next to me, a footstep that sends a shiver down my spine. Dread coils in the pit of my stomach as I reluctantly open my eyes, half expecting to be greeted by the haunting sight of savages with their piercing dark eyes and faces adorned with war paint.
Instead, I see the deep blue eyes, dark tousled hair, pale skinned bloke that’s been escaping to the other side of the island with me to smoke some of thosemedicinalsI discovered the cannibals’ harvest.
“Come on, mate,” he says, extending his hand towards me. "You must have at least a little sense in that tiny brain of yours to realize that the cannibals aren't the solution."
I swallow hard, relief flooding through me as I grasp his offered hand and pull myself off the ground. "You didn't betray me," I murmur, the weight of gratitude heavy in my words as I realize that Mr. Coldwell remains oblivious to my brush with the savages.
"He's on a need-to-know basis," Jack replies with a playful wink, his easy grin coaxing a reluctant smile from my lips.
As we stand together under the canopy of this exotic jungle, with the savages waiting for me on the other side, I can't help but feel a surge of gratitude toward the unlikely ally who had stood by my side when I needed him most.
1. British slang for police
2. London’s largest football (UK)/soccer (US) stadium.
