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It’s time to finally admit to myself that she was right to break up with me, even if she regrets it or didn’t mean it. She was right about my mental state, too. It’s time I come to terms with the fact that I need to focus on my own healing and finally grieve the loss of my brother.

The only problem is… I have no fucking idea how to do that.

Chapter Twenty-Four

London

Day unknown

This will be my last entry. I no longer want to remember or document anything on this island. However, I think it’s necessary to tell whoever may read this that Ollie was Nigel’s latest victim. He was murdered in cold blood in the most heinous way. We’ve completely disintegrated. Only eight of us remain out of the twelve original survivors. Nigel is dead… I killed him.

Hunger, dehydration, and dread consume us. We thought we saw another plane yesterday morning. A brief shimmer in the sky before it disappeared within the cloud of distant smoke that lingers in the air from some fire on a different island. So our sole purpose is to keep our signal fire lit. It’s our last sliver of hope as our food is running out. I’ve seen no sign of Micah since he left me two days ago. I saw the look in his eyes when he left. In those last seconds, it wasn’t Micah staring back at me. I didn’t recognize him; it was as if he wanted to kill me, too. The Micah I know and love is gone, and I don’t think I can bring him back. I’d rather remember him the way he was—not wild, feral, and brutal, but as the boy I’m in love with. The soul-crushing love, the kind that hurts your bones. I won’t go back to the cabin with him the way he is right now. He’s broken, and I’m broken, and two broken people shouldn’t be together. This pretty little island finally killed me.

I step outside the shelter after spending the last hour trying to nap since I refuse to sleep at night. I was numb when Ezra carried me back to the site a couple of days ago. And I’m marginally better, although I still struggle between the grip of dreams and reality.

The fire is blazing in the middle of the meadow, the flames nearly touching the sky as I approach the others who are huddled, their faces grim and tight. They are sitting around the fire, a sense of calm surrounding them since there is no more threat. Yet the actual threat is the worst it’s been. Hunger is settling in as we’ve depleted our entire food supply.

I can’t talk, eat, sleep, or breathe.

I sit next to Ezra, and Naomi grimaces, her jealousy coming off as no more than trite. Despite Naomi’s glaring, he moves over and makes space for me. Everyone—except for Ezra—thinks Micah killed Nigel, and it’s easier to keep it that way. The reality of what I did to Nigel settles in my stomach like a stone. What I am capable of… What we are all capable of, and how easy it was for me to do it. I’d do it again to anyone here if they push me.

The others don’t know the true extent of what he did to me, and I don’t know how to tell them… or if I should tell them at all. However, I think Ezra suspects it because he checks on me constantly, taking his oath to Micah to heart.

His promise to take care of me.

I observe Jade as she pulls her hood over her head, choosing to stay secluded while a dark plume of smoke envelops us. She avoids speaking to anyone, even to Thomas, who is sitting right beside her. Her gaze remains fixed on the flames, seemingly imprisoned within her own thoughts. The countless cuts scattered across her body are now nothing but cruel reminders—scars she will carry for the rest of her life. I want to help her heal, to reach out and talk to her, but I can’t bring myself to ask her if he did the same thing to her he did to me.

He had her longer…

Naomi and Serena dote on her and, of course, gloss over me. While my wounds might not be as visible as Jade’s, they run just as deep.

My mind is a blur as I nearly choke on the thickness in the air. I look around. The light is different; something isn’t right. The sun, high in the sky, is blood red. Heavy smoke has settled around us, layered in the air. Pieces of ash bear down on us, lightly dusting the ground like snow. There is no way our tiny fire made all this smoke.

Two days went by, and nothing—no airplane, no rescue. We burned the fire for as long as we could until we just couldn’t keep up with it any longer. And now we settle with a fire burning enough to keep us alive. The wood is still wet from the spring melt, the earth is damp, and the water in the creek is rising from the glacial melt. The days are warm, but the nights are still freezing, so we all sleep huddled together in the three shelters.

To Naomi’s extreme displeasure, Ezra spent one of those nights with me, leaving her cold and alone.

I barely speak, still not truly trusting everyone. Especially not Naomi, who does nothing but stare at me and keeps her distance from me. The feud between us still lingers.

“Where is the smoke coming from?” I finally ask, ignoring Naomi’s icy glare as Ezra drapes a friendly arm around me.

Or a guilty arm… He really is sorry for everything he put me through.

Thomas moves his arm from stroking Jade’s back, and Jade doesn’t acknowledge my question. “We don’t know. It rolled in about an hour ago,” Thomas says. “It came in fast and heavy, so wherever the fire is, it’s close.”

The island is burning.

My stomach flips, realizing what caused it. There is only one person skilled enough to make a fire this big, especially at this time of year.

“I think it’s Micah,” I whisper.

This garners a response from Jade, who shoots me a look but still refuses to speak, the spark of life within her extinguished.

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asks, keeping his attention focused on her as she blankly stares back into the fire.

I shrug indifferently. “The fire. Micah said a few times that we couldn’t build a fire big enough to see from the sky. So I think that’s exactly what he did.”

My stomach tingles at the thought of Micah doing this. The butterflies he still gives me, knowing he did this to potentially save us gives me the hope I’ve been searching for.