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Little Boy
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Dutchy had been laying on the couch for what seemed like eternity. He'd fallen asleep at some point, and had dreamt of nothing. He felt strange, as if his entire body was gradually becoming numb... his fingers felt slow, unresponsive. The others were busy, talking or checking the immediate area. Dutchy hadn't helped, but they didn't seem to mind. Dutchy did. He felt guilty, useless.

They don't need me tagging along... I'm not helping. I CAN'T help. I can't. I just can't do anything...

Dutchy thought back to the previous sleepless night and his mind once more returned to the names. He jammed his hands into his eye sockets, willing himself not to cry. No effort was required however. Dutchy simply couldn't cry anymore. He had prayed he would stop, he prayed for control at least in front of his friends. Now that it was gone however, he felt emptier then ever. Inhuman. A monster, worse then the killers of Survival of the Fittest.

The reported death toll was 41. Dutchy supposed that many more had died since, but he couldn't handle thinking about that. He had known nearly every one to some degree. Dutchy had loved his friends. He had loved his life. Danya had taken it, and was viciously dismembering it all, his happiness, his very existence, piece by piece. The others were fighting, and he should be to. But he just couldn't. He had tried, but the reality was too terrifying. His friends were dying. Steve Barnes, the boy from the beach was dead. Dutchy couldn't believe it, had refused to believe it. But the truth was slowly burned into him as he walked with Sarah, and he couldn't deny it. Tom Guthrie was dead, so was Everett. People he had known, had classes with. They had died, somewhere in the woods. He hadn't been there.

What kind of a friend am I?

It was eerily quiet. The others had for the most part left him alone. He knew his behavior was upsetting them. He had on occasion, tried to put on a brave face, or even smile. The sad looks they had given in return shattered him even more. Dutchy was running out of smiles. He was running out of time. And not for the first time, he was beginning to wonder if maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.

They can't leave me behind. It's unspoken, but it's agreed on. They won't let me die. But I will. I know I will. And they'll just have to watch and... and cry. What kind of a friend does that? What kind of a friend am I, if I let that happen? I've let others die. I could have done something more I could have- But no... And I can't let it go. I can't pretend nothing is wrong when I'm dying on the inside...

Dutchy did not know what he wanted. But it wasn't like God was listening anyway.


"Good luck and all. I wish you the best, really. I just think you're fucked."

Dutchy flinched back at the words. He didn't know why. It was true. They were doomed. The others were gathered together, sharing information, trying to figure a way out. Dutchy sat nearby. He was close enough to listen, and he did intently. He hoped against all hope that Sarah had found a way, an escape. But as Kim had so eloquently put it, they were goners. Dutchy shivered as the girl stood. He felt cold, despite the pleasant temperature. Just looking at Kimberly made him feel cold, nervous. He hadn't forgotten the secret, the strange encounter just a few hours before. He halfheartedly wondered what had happened, but dismissed it. It wasn't important. He would probably never know why exactly Kimberly had left the camp. And as hard as he tried, he couldn't bring himself to care about even that.

As Kimberly turned to leave, Dutchy felt a pang of fear shoot up through him. The girl had been shot, and was obviously paying close attention to avoid aggravating the wound. He silently chastised himself for his fear, and struggled to prevent his stomach from somersaulting.

Will it be bloody when I go? I can't stand blood. I don't know how she can still walk after that... Sarah fixed her. She's fantastic. I was a mess, after just a glimpse and she... She's so brave. She's braver then me.

The door slammed behind Kim as she departed. Dutchy hadn't felt safe around Kim he realized suddenly, the girl unnerved him. Her behavior wasn't normal, and if he wasn't so trusting Dutchy suspected his paranoia to shoot through the roof. All the same, he was even more so terrified to let her go. The Island was dangerous, and she was out there alone.

I should have stopped her. I shouldn't have let her leave. She'll get hurt, and it'll be my fault because I didn't stop her...

"Bless Kimmy..." He mumbled to himself.

Goodbye forever... What are you going to do? What are you going to do...?
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