Page 83
Not Micah.
Chapter Sixteen
Day Thirty Three
Imagine every thought, feeling, or emotion known to humanity, and then multiply your hunger, thirst, pain, desire, rage, love, and fear by a thousand. That’s how living on this island feels. Closing my eyes leaves me feeling completely drained, but the moment I open them, I’m surprisingly alert. Hunger consumes my thoughts until the thirst takes over, and I can’t think of anything else. When I’m mad, I can imagine what it feels like to kill someone—the rage is all-consuming—and when I love, I love with intensity. Every part of my body ignites with flames, my heart feels like it’s about to explode, and my soul seems to want to escape my flesh. It almost doesn’t feel real, like it’s happening to someone else, and I’m floating above watching it unfold. The possibility of each day being my last increases my intensity for everything. We’ve been on this island for over a month—long enough for the world to believe we are dead, and that’s exactly what is going to happen. I’m scared, and deep down, I really miss Micah, and I can’t see how we will survive this.
We spent one more night at our camp before heading back to the others. We were all exhausted and passed out silently after the guys were gone most of the day. Thomas and Micah carried the deer back with us over two trips. The wolf was never mentioned.
The twins were noticeably tense when we got back. Jade arched her brows at me when she came out of her shelter in the morning, but had the good sense not to ask questions about it.
It’s like Olivia’s ghost possessed me. I am a living, breathing reincarnate of her, and I’m bringing out the worst emotions in both of them. I can feel it. They wanted it—I saw the desire in their eyes when we hunted—and it was planned. For whatever reason Maison gave my body to his brother, and now Micah will barely look at me. We’ve made a truce of sorts with Ezra, Naomi, and Nigel, and James and the others are already somewhat neutral. No one has the energy to argue anymore.
Nigel is worsening by the day—the husk is taking over everyone. Jade and I decided it was best not to say anything about of our suspicions of his relationship with Olivia, but I watch him like a hawk as every part of his humanity looks like it is being stripped away from him. Hour by hour, day by day, we’re all losing our sanity.
As we push mid-October, the days are getting shorter, the nights longer. Most days I don’t even want to get out of bed. I force Maison to stay with me as long as he can before he encourages me up, and I find dry wood. It snowed again, a couple of times, so we are all miserable but holding on to what’s left of warmish weather. At night, I can’t be alone—that’s when this island scares me the most—so I hold on to Maison tightly, since Micah frequently goes missing to be at his preferred camp, I’m assuming.
Alone.
When he is here, Ezra bosses him around, which is completely unnerving. Life was easier when I hated Micah. Sometimes I wish I still did, because anything is better than this. Micah doesn’t do feelings—and he’s only proved Maison right. Yet the emotion bled out of him, it bled out of both of us. It’s the side of him I didn’t think existed. Since we returned a week ago, I’ve gone to the cove a few times, hoping to see him.
Even now I’m sitting, waiting… like a fucking idiot, because he’s not coming, even though he knows I’m here. I move like he’s watching me, every motion, hair twirl, lip bite, every time I bathe myself. I wait until the sun dips down under the mountains before I head back to camp, feeling alone and defeated.
Returning, I notice Naomi, Serena, and Jade chatting by the fire. Naomi and Serena ignore me, but Jade waves me over. Naomi and I don’t speak, and Serena and I barely interact since she spends most of her time with James, and I have no desire to chat with them. I also don’t go because a shadow flickers to my right, and I see the outline of Micah heading into the woods toward the creek.
All the boys went out trapping earlier, as we’ve already devoured the deer. I’m not even sure why he is here. No one else seems to notice, so this is my opportunity to follow him. I’m desperate to find out what’s going on in his head.
I pretend to head to my shelter, but I cut into the trees instead, my spear steady in my hand, and I hover behind him all the way to the creek. Silent as a mouse, or in this case, the predator, like he taught me. Despite the crunching underfoot, he remains unfazed. At one point, he pauses and looks around. Something triggered him. I sigh when he keeps walking, as I’m not ready for him to see me yet.
When we arrive at the creek, I hide behind a nearby tree. Not too close, but close enough I have a full view of him. His back is to me as he leans over, filling water bottles.
My plan is to attack him when he fills the last bottle. It’s when his mind will be focused on something else, giving me a chance to get him when he least expects it. My heart pulses. The last time I did this, he played along. Will he this time? I know he likes this little game we play, and I miss it—I miss him.
Finally, I see my chance, and I leap out from my hiding spot and lunge toward him. At the very last second, he whips around and grabs me.
“Nice try, London,” he says, gripping my wrists hard.
Instead of giving in, I twist my body and kick him, but he stops me with his knee and slowly pushes me down to the ground. I can’t stop him, he’s too strong, and he’s not letting me hit him like he usually does. He cocks his head to one side and frowns, keeping a firm grip on my wrists. “You’ve lost your edge. I heard you following me thirty seconds after I left.”
He lets me go, leaving me on the ground, and turns his back to me.
Jerk.
I prop myself onto my wrists. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He picks up his water, keeping his back turned to me. “Go back. You shouldn’t be here with me.”
So, he is avoiding me, but I’m not going to let him ignore me.
“So that’s it,” I spit at him. “That’s all I get from you; all the energy you’ll spare for me?”
He shakes his head and walks away, leaving me on the ground alone.
Pathetic.
And so I scream, “Why won’t you talk to me? After all those things I let you do to me, I deserve better than this.”
He pauses and rubs the bit of facial hair growing from his chin, making him look closer to twenty-five than twenty. “Go back to your boyfriend,” he rasps. He takes one more step, which is the final straw for me. My hand finds a nearby rock, and I stand and hurl it, hitting him square in the back of the skull.
