Chapter Text
Jack found himself laying in the garden. His blue button-up was covered in dirt and some other liquid – he had probably thrown up somewhere along the line – and his blond curls were brushed in an array. He didn’t know how long he had been there, hidden behind the neatly arranged flowers and plants. He was hot and sticky. Sweat trickled down his face as he searched his surroundings.
There was no one around. No one to find him. No one to help him. He was alone, once again.
He would lift himself onto his knees and crawl out from underneath the flower beds. Tiny petals and branches would scratch across his face and get caught in his tangled curls.
Why was he tired? Had he fainted? Probably.
A gust of wind would brush against his face as he lifted himself from the dirt. He was a small walk away from the dorms. His weak legs would carry him five steps before he collapsed on top of some poppies.
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“I found him just by the garden,” Ralph informed as he laid the faint Jack onto his bed.
“What do ye think he was doin at the garden this late?” Roger asked.
It was far past the two boys' bedtime, but they had stayed up waiting for Jack to return.
“Probably crying again,” Maurice added, which startled the two boys. Maurice had silently entered the room when the boys weren't looking. His striped blue and white pajamas practically glowed in the dim lit room.
“You startled us…” Ralph whispered
“Sorry!” Maurice giggled as he sat beside Roger.
This wasn’t the first time the boys had found Jack suspiciously unconscious in random areas around the boarding school. It had become a normal occurrence ever since they were rescued two months ago.
Roger and Maurice had noticed this odd change in Jack’s demeanor before anyone else did. Besides, they were the closest to him, next to Simon that is. But god forbid you mention Simon anywhere near Jack.
“Well, we best leave him be before he wakes again. Ye know how hard it is to get him back to sleep,” Roger sighed
Maurice would be the first to sleepily exit the room, and Roger would follow.
“Ya comin? Or are ye gonna watch Jack sleep, mister weirdo,” Roger joked.
“Har har…” Ralph mumbled as he trailed behind Roger. He didn’t like Roger. Not after what he did on the island. He avoided him as best he could. He kept his distance from him and tried his best not to engage in conversation. But Jack’s little fits have brought them together again and again.
Ralph would push the thoughts of Roger and Nicky away as he tiptoed to his room. However, the scene of Nicky’s dismay was playing over and over in his mind as he stuffed his head into his pillow.
He had nightmares of the island almost every night, waking with screams and gasps for air. Tonight, would be no different. He grabbed the covers and pulled them over his head, hiding himself from the terrors of the night.
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Jack awoke at the ringing of the bell. It was morning. He was in bed. Wait — how did he get in bed? No matter.
Jack would slip out of bed and drag himself towards the showers. He washed the sweat and dirt off of his body and hair, then got dressed in his regular school uniform.
He would meet Ralph in the hallway leading to their classes.
“Morning. How do you feel?” Ralph asked in anticipation.
“Fine…Why do you ask?” he replied, running his fingers through his uncombed hair. “OUCH!” he screamed without meaning to. He had forgotten that he had bitten his finger during his fit yesterday. The strands of hair sliced against the untreated wound.
“Are you alright!?” Ralph worried as he examined Jack, who had stuck his pointer finger into his mouth.
“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, his words getting caught on his tongue.
Ralph would shrug it off and run over to his class, leaving Jack alone.
Again.
Jack turned the corner and entered one of his classes. All eyes immediately shot towards him, “the island boy,” “the savage one.” Jack rushed towards his seat, trying his best to ignore the eyes and whispers that followed him.
The rest of the day was lengthy and grueling as always. Boring exams, tests and presentations. He tried his best to avoid all the questions and looks he got from everyone around the school. At least there was choir at the end of the day. That always brightened Jack’s mood – As long as he didn’t think of Simon, which he tended to do a lot…
In fact, he tends to think of Simon so much that he sees him. He sees him when he’s walking down the hallways, when he's sleeping, when he’s in the garden, and when he cries.
Simon always appears wearing the same outfit that he first wore on the island, his blue button up and grey shorts. His expression is always the same. Always saddened, always disappointed. Disappointed in Jack? Perhaps.
Jack pushed the thoughts of Simon out of his mind as he bit his middle finger, a habit he had picked up ever since they were rescued, a form of self-harm none of the boys even knew existed.
“Get your finger out your mouth,” Maurice whispered as the priest flipped through his song book. Jack quickly obeyed and shoved his hands into his tog.
After choir, the boys dispersed as they always did. Maurice and Roger went back to the dorms, Bill and Robert ran off somewhere towards the park and the rest of the boys went off on their own. Jack ended up in the garden. Again. He always tended to end up in the garden. He would sit by the flowers, still dressed in his tog and ruffled collar.
He stared at the flowers as they swayed back forth in the wind. He analyzed the different roses and lilies that lined the sidewalks. Some flowers would appear to take on unique shapes...Some had faces, some had mouths.
One would speak up, “Look what you’ve done Jack!”
Another would spit, “Where’s Simon now!?”
The flowers were speaking over each other, yelling and screaming profanities at him.
“How dare YOU!”
“Why did YOU get to live?!”
“YOU killed him!”
“You should kill YOURSE-”
“Jack?!” Ralph nudged Jack’s shoulder, snapping him out of his hallucination. Jack gasped for air as he locked eyes with Ralph.
“What on earth are you on!?” Ralph worried. He helped Jack up and took him back to his room.
“You’ve got to stop running off to the garden like that. You’re going to end up hurting yourself, y’know,” Ralph warned. Jack would nod along to what Ralph was saying, though he wasn’t paying a spit of attention towards him. The flowers' words replayed over and over in his mind.
Ralph would make sure that Jack was in bed and taken care of before he left to his respective room. He sat in his bed replaying the deaths of Nicky, and now Simon, as well.