Destroyed in Pieces - Lady and the Flies Sequel

Chapter 5

So... I'm back. All will be explained after this chapter. I missed you all

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Jack Merridew was a killer. He was a murderer, a thief, and a criminal. There was no denying it, no veil to conceal it. No pretty words to ameliorate his condition. For you can't plant roses in poisoned soil and expect them to still look pretty.

After the haze and elation of the island wore off, Jack began to come to terms with himself. Adjusting to life away from the island was like withdrawing from opioids, painful and exhausting. The first few days home Jack realized that life would not carry on as usual, and maybe wouldn't ever be the same, and this broke him.

It was if his soul was shattered into a million shards. Some pieces of him were cracked and tarnished, too mangled to even look like a human boy again. Some were still back on that damned island, festering inside the marrow of a decaying pig skull.

Jack was acutely aware of his brokenness, attuned to the ways the island had changed him, and coping with the sick fact that he was changed for the worse. The island's strange perfumes pervaded his skull and would dig up horrifying memories every now and then, leaving Jack defenseless against the sporadic onslaught of panic attacks and mania that would ambush him.

This made the first few days utterly agonizing for Jack. He would wake up screaming and crying during the night, clutching his bedsheets in fear that they would dissolve into grains of sand at any moment. Images of Simon's mangled face and Piggy's oozing bloody skull haunted him. He had this reoccurring nightmare that he would watch himself stab Simon over and over again, and as much as he screamed at himself for it to stop, it was no use. Soon Jack started to believe that he deserved the emotional pain he was going through, he was a terrible person after all. These dreams were his mind's sick masochistic way of punishing itself. Jack encouraged his punishment, and gladly permitted himself to sink deeper and deeper into insanity.

Jack struggled to get out of bed most days, too tired to speak and too dangerous to act like a normal human being. Speaking of normal, It took him some time to adjust to real food. After a period of severe starvation, his body rejected everything that went into his stomach. He would sprint to the washroom to vomit after every meal he ate, which gained him some very concerned looks from his mother. However, after a few arduous days, he managed to keep cereal down. And that's all Jack ate for months, fucking cornflakes.

Jack didn't even see this as a problem until his father pointed it out.

Jack's father, always one to flaunt his wealth, loved to throw parties. Their eight bedroom house could fit hundreds of people, and Jack's father intended on inviting all of them. Brandishing his elaborate buffets and expensive artwork like a knight and his noble sword, the door to the Merridew house, well mansion, was always open to admirers.

Before the island, Jack would love these types of events. His father's ego radiated onto him like an warm ember, and Jack was entranced by its fiery glow. Jack felt like the embodiment of the Great Gatsby, surveying is opulent domain, monitoring it for any sort of trouble he could get up to.

He would often sneak some sort of alcohol from his parents' liquor cabinet and find a daughter of some wealthy politician to seduce. It was the only thing that granted him control in a life that was out of his hands.

This particular party was especially grand, in part because his mother thought it would cheer him up. Everyone from the rugby team attended as well as most of Jack's school. It was said that even the Royal Navy Captain himself made an appearance.

So, it was of great surprise when Jack was no where to be found during his father's lavish event.

It turned out, Jack was in his bedroom, wolfing down cornflakes because he hadn't eaten all day. He was too nervous for this goddamn party to eat. Being around nosy mothers and his old mates just terrified him. He still hadn't gotten over Roger's death either, and the loss of his best friend felt like losing his right arm. Attending the party without Roger just didn't seem right, and seeing his old team would just be another reminder that he lost his best friend.