[firebreathingfishies]

lol as long as you remember wild arm gestures and constant whining, you've got Arzt fine Ah Hurley could be doing anything! It didn't matter what he was doing, he just seemed to get on Arzt nerves by standing there. I'm sure we can figure out something obscure for Hurley to be getting up to lol. And yes, Arzt is immense. We'll kill someone else off in his place... like Jack

Yeah I loved that ending, I doubt I would have written her so wired and screwed up if you hadn't given that ending. I love it, it makes things interesting

Well this is longer than I had intended it to be, but there was a lot of OMFG going about

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Losing Grip


I haven’t slept for the past couple of days. To be honest, I have no idea how many days it has been since I last slept. I can’t really do anything apart from sit. I’m too tired to do anything, but I’m too wired to sleep. I know I must look terrible, and some of the other survivors have been keeping a wide berth of me. That probably has something to do with the ginger bloke. I overheard him telling Claire that I was a psycho yesterday.

At least I think it was yesterday.

I really don’t know anymore.

I also received another visit from Jack at some point. He looked just as bad as I probably do, and had the hypocrisy to tell me to chill out and rest a while. I only agreed with him though. I really couldn’t be bothered to say anything else. He sharp wandered off though. There was probably someone with a rash or a splinter that needed his expert opinion.

So now I’m dragging myself across the beach to get a drink of water. I can’t eat. Last time I tried to eat I threw up all over Arzt’s shoes. God that didn’t half give him something to complain about it. So I’ll stick to water for now, and then perhaps wean myself back on food. It occurred to me once or twice that maybe I’m just having a hard time adapting to the heat, or maybe I’m just losing it.

Well I’ve been seeing Chuck everywhere. That’s kind of a big hint.

‘Oh my god you look awful.’

I look around, blinking slowly and see that tall blonde girl grimacing at me. I rack my brain for her name. Sandra? Shannon.

‘Thanks.’ I reply as I pick up a bottle of water.

‘Don’t you, like… sleep?’ Shannon frowned, picking up a bottle of water also. ‘Because that would seriously sort your eyes out. You look like you’ve been drinking for a week straight.’

‘I wish I had been drinking for a week straight.’ I reply, shuffling away. ‘At least I would understand why I’m seeing things.’

I know Shannon probably thinks I’m a complete nutcase now, but I couldn’t give a crap. I couldn’t give a crap about anything right now. All I want to do is to lie down and sleep. Just sleep without dreams of Chuck visiting me. Reminding me of what I did. I shudder and unscrew the bottle top.

Halfway through drinking, it occurs to me what I need to do. I’ve been avoiding the jungle since that first day because I didn’t want to face what I did, but maybe that’s my problem? People talk about facing your fears… maybe if I go back out there… perhaps tell someone, and then I’ll be able to rest? It’s the guilt sending me crazy. I need to get it off my chest.

Before I even realise I started walking, I find myself standing in a clearing in the jungle. My water bottle is half empty. I blink and rub my eyes, trying to remember the walk to here from the beach but I can’t so I stop trying. However as I take a step forward, I hear glass crunching beneath my boot. I slowly look down. I’m standing in a massive ring of broken glass. I stare down at it and my mind goes back to the day of the crash.

I gasp at the memory and I feel a lump rising in my throat. At first I think I’m going to be sick again and double over, but then I realise it’s because I’m about to cry. I close my eyes and compose myself, then straighten up. Swallowing hard, I let myself look towards where I first found Chuck.

I see the plane seat. I blink slowly, and then frown. Something is different, but at first I can’t place what it is. Tentatively, I move closer. My legs feel weak and my stomach feels light and sensitive. It’s only when I’m standing over the plane seat that my brain finally registers what my eyes are seeing.

The seat is empty.

I look around frantically. This can’t be right. He was here, I’m sure of it. He was strapped in the chair, he looked at me with those green eyes, he grabbed my arm.

But there’s no sign, apart from the dried blood on the seat. Slowly I kneel down, but only because I can’t stay standing up straight any longer. I run my hand over the plane seat. It feels hard and dry, and slightly warm. Gritting my teeth, I pick up the seat belt. I examine the end of it, and decide that it hadn’t been snapped before. It had still be tied firmly around his waist. Actually, the edge is too straight to have been ripped… it looks more like it has been cut…

And that’s when I notice something glinting off to the right. I blink at it stupidly for a moment, before crawling towards it on my hands and knees. Pushing some dried leaves and twigs aside with my shaking hands, I expose the large knife lying on the ground. I swallow hard, and then pick it up.

My hands are trembling. What does this mean? Someone cut Chuck free? Then where is he? Is it possible that he’s been at the beach the whole time but I’ve been too wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t even realise? Could he be the man in Jack’s tent?

No, someone said the man in Jack’s tent was a Marshall. He had something stuck in his gut, not a cut throat. Surely if someone had been found with a cut throat then she would have heard about it.

‘Hey.’

I whip my head around at the voice that whispered but see nothing. I clumsily get to my feet, gripping tightly onto the knife. Did I really hear that? Could have been a breeze.

‘Is there someone there?’ I call out shakily.

‘Help…’

I whirl around again and a weak scream escapes me. In the trees, Chuck is lumbering towards me, one hand to his bloody throat and the other outstretched to me. He staggers like some kind of zombie, his eyes bulging. I stumble back, my mouth open. Oh God that can’t be real… he can’t be alive…

I blink and he’s gone. The only sound in the clearing is the singing birds and my own panicked breath. I look around frantically.

That’s it. I’ve snapped. I start giggling nervously, looking around the surrounding foliage. I didn’t just see that. It’s days of not eating and not sleeping and my body can’t take it. I need to get back to the beach and find Jack, tell him what’s happening to me. If I carry on like this I’m going to end up dead.

‘Why’d you leave me, Ashley?’

I turn with a whimper to see Chuck lying on the plane seat, glaring at me angrily.

‘I needed you.’

I turn and race away into the jungle, having no idea where I’m going and not caring. I just need to be away. I’m still gripping the knife tightly and my chest is hitching. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.

My foot catches a tree root and I stumble forward. The knife flies out of my hand and I feel like I’m about to explode into sobs, but before I get the chance to, someone else yells out. I skid to a halt and look around in bewilderment. I recognise the bald head and watch in confusion as Locke goes to the woman’s side, checking that she’s okay.

‘Are you okay Ellie?’ Ethan asks in surprise.

‘She’s okay, it’s just a nick.’ Locke replies, looking towards me.

‘Wha… Where…’ I swallow. ‘I’m sorry I tripped and I uh…’

The woman looks at me like I’m a complete idiot and I feel a rush of anger. If she had just seen what I’d seen, then she wouldn’t bloody look at me like that. I wish for her to stop looking at me.

Then it occurs to me that I could have just killed her. I could have had two dead people on my conscience.

‘Oh no…’ I say, feeling woozy. ‘No, I’m so sorry I… I don’t know what happened, I just…’ I suddenly feel hot. I brush my hair from my face and feel my face twisting into some terrible attempt at a smile.

The three of them are looking at me in bewilderment. I wish for them to stop looking at me like that. They need to stop.

Locke picks the knife that decided to take flight from my hand and brings it back to me, wiping the blood on his shirt and holding it out handle first. I look at it with a slight grimace. I don’t want it. I don’t want it at all.

‘Not a bad blade if I do say so myself,’ he says to me with a weird, slightly creepy smirk. ‘and so I’d be a bit more careful about letting it so loosely out of my grip next time, Ashley.’

I force a smile, which is near impossible and take the stupid knife. Now I have it back though, I don’t know what to do with it. I glance to the woman with the gash on her elbow and shrug.

‘Yeah, about he knife flying through the air at you like that…’

I just got chased by the guy I left for dead on the day of the crash.

‘I tripped on a tree root or something.’

‘You look like you were running from something pretty fast.’ Ethan points out, eyeing me with a fake smile.

These people are making me uncomfortable. My hands are trembling a little. ‘I uh… I just…’ I can’t find a decent excuse. ‘I like running.’

The woman is looking at me curiously, but she isn’t saying anything. Actually, her silence is making me more uncomfortable than if she had been screaming and shouting at me.

‘We’ll get you back to the beach,’ Ethan tells her. ‘Don’t want that to get infected, do you?’

The woman frowns slightly at me before turning away. ‘No. No I don’t.’

She follows Ethan away. Locke lingers for a moment, looking at me. I shift uncomfortably.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ He smiles. ‘Are you coming back?’

I swallow, wipe the sweat away from my forehead, and nod. He nods in response and leads the way back to the beach. I tuck the knife in my belt, not liking its weight, and unsteadily follow him.