A/N: Unbelievable. You guys are seriously unbelievable. Not only does Definitions have 99 reviews, it is also the 23rd most reviewed and 14th most followed story in our little Lord of the Flies corner of fanfiction! Wow! I cannot get over how astounding you guys are and I wish I had a nicer update for you but it's kind of a filler oops and there isn't very much dialogue sorry I needed to write a transitional chapter. The worst part about this chapter is that it's the longest in the story and it's basically all filler I am so sorry. I hope you guys enjoy it anyways and the next chapter should come sooner! I'm also getting back around to my system of replying to all of my reviews that aren't Guest reviews (because I have no way of replying to them, sorry) because I really appreciate you guys, so don't be surprised if I message you!

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies.

Chief: The head, the leader, the most important individual in a group or body of people.

I think I was bleeding everywhere. Roger had gone mad torturing me. Cuts marred my entire body and bruises lined the remaining skin. I had cried, screamed, begged for mercy, but Roger would not stop short of me saying what Jack wanted me to say so badly.

"Oh Jack, I'll do whatever you want. I'll be yours," blah blah blah, I wouldn't say it. I had come this far. Whip lines ran up and down my back. My face was swollen and bruised from the punching. One of my canine teeth had been knocked out. I'd been kicked in the stomach repeatedly. Cuts from Jack's-but-currently-in-Roger's-possession knife were a horrible masterpiece on my legs and arms. I didn't want to give these savages the satisfaction, but it was almost becoming a life or death situation.

Another kick to the head, "Had enough yet?"

I didn't answer.

"I said, 'have you had enough yet?'" He snarled.

I stayed silent as he picked up the knife again.

"You really need to answer when I speak to you," he grabbed my limp wrist and started sawing at it. My eyes widened. He couldn't be serious.

"Roger," I panicked, trying to pull my hand away. He held on tighter. It was really starting to hurt. He kept slowly sawing into my flesh, trying to maximize the pain.

"Say it."

He was getting deep. Hot tears ran down my face. He was going to cut my hand off! I couldn't do it anymore. I simply broke down.

"Fine!" I yelled, "I'm his, just please stop!"

He withdrew his knife. He ran it across my neck, not deep enough to cut, but enough to hurt.

"I'll take you to Chief. But just you remember who's in charge," he grabbed my hair, dragging me all the way down to the beach as I stumbled behind him. He dropped me at Jack's feet.

The red headed boy looked down at me, his features immediately becoming concerned.

"Roger," he begun to say, "that's a bit too far."

"She wouldn't say it, Chief. I followed my orders," he challenged, a sick smile on his face.

My brother looked down on me. Raising one eyebrow, he commanded me to, "say it."

My tears didn't stop as I looked up at Jack. I wanted to say what he wanted to hear, but I couldn't speak at all. Another kick in the side from Roger motivated me, though.

"I'm yours, Chief. All yours! I'll do whatever you want, please!" The pain was overwhelming, but I stood and threw myself at him, heavily relying on his strong build to hold me up as I had no strength of my own left.

"Roger, the knife please," as Roger handed Jack the bloody knife, I cowered away.

"It's okay," he whispered to me, almost like he cared. But he didn't. If he cared about me, he would've never sent Roger into that cave with me. He would've never called for my kidnapping. He would've just let me make my own decisions. But for the sake of survival, I clung onto him like I was teetering off the edge of a cliff and he was the only thing keeping me from falling.

"Hand me that coconut filled with water, then you're dismissed," he nodded at Roger who did what he was told, then proceeded to help me back up the cliff to the cave. He sat me down against one of the cave walls while he grabbed his old choir cloak. He began cutting strips of fabric into a small pile. Sitting beside me, he silently started bandaging my wounds. First dipping the material into the cool and clean water, then onto my broken body. He started with my bad wrist, and I hissed in pain.

"Sorry," he muttered. I didn't say anything. I would do what he told me to – nothing more and nothing less.

"I didn't mean for… for this to happen. For it to go so far," he continued. When I didn't respond and I wouldn't look at him, he sighed and patched me up in silence.

"Lift your shirt," a disgusted look came onto my face. I was still bleeding all over the place and he wanted me to lift my shirt? What a typical guy.

"Is that a request or an order?" I whispered as defiantly as I could.

"I just meant to clean the wounds on your stomach," I looked down to see my shirt torn in about a hundred places and blood still seeping through what was left of the material.

"Oh," I felt embarrassed, but did what he asked. Pain shot up my body when he pressed the makeshift cloth to the incredibly open wound. I shut my eyes tightly and allowed myself to use what was left of my tears.

When Jack was done, he sat across from me silently. I knew he was trying to get me to look at him, but I wouldn't meet his gaze. He seemed genuinely remorseful about the entire Roger incident, but the look of guilt on his face made it that much worse. I didn't want to forgive him. He could order me around as much as he wanted to but he couldn't change my feelings and I needed to hold on to that as much as possible.

He finally dropped his head, breaking his one-sided stare.

"I really am sorry," he apologized for what seemed like the millionth time. I still said nothing.

"Do you want some water? Food?" He asked. Questions. Those couldn't be ignored.

"No thank you, Chief," I replied quietly, bringing my knees to my chest and letting my head fall.

"Riley," he reached towards me and tried to grab my hand, but not before it involuntarily flinched backwards. I finally looked towards him, and he surprisingly didn't look angry with me. He simply reached out, slower this time, and gently grasped my hand in his. I allowed it as I didn't have much of a choice.

"Riley," he started again, softly speaking my name, "you need to eat."

That sounded almost like a request, so I replied with the only option I had, "okay, Chief."

He looked perplexed at how quickly I gave in, but didn't question it.

"Bill," he called out to the savage guarding the cave entrance, "bring us some meat and water."

"Yes, Chief," the painted savage replied before running off. I was almost surprised he didn't salute Jack before going. It seemed only fitting.

The tension between us was thick. Jack obviously wanted to speak but I wasn't exactly in a talkative mood, so we both stayed silent. Bill ran into the cave, a chunk of meat in his right hand and a coconut shell of water in the other. When Jack didn't acknowledge his presence, he placed the goods down and ran back to his post.

"Eat," Jack said quietly. And so I did. I did what he told me to.

I ate the meat, drank the water. I stayed put while he was gone hunting, not moving an inch. When nighttime fell, I went to sleep when he told me to, where he told me to. When he wanted to go for walks, I obediently hiked by his side, saying nothing. When he would grab my hand in his, I wouldn't pull away, nor would I smile. Days went by like this. I didn't speak unless I was spoken to, and even then, the responses were short and choppy.

Every night the boys caught a pig, there was a feast. This was the only time Jack would ask me what I wanted to do. He would ask if I would like to go to the feast and I would always – very politely – tell him no. I felt like I wasn't risking much by turning him down. If he really wanted me there he would just tell me to go and I would. He had me under his thumb, but for whatever reason, he didn't force me to go to the feasts. For that I was grateful. It brought back some painful memories.

Tonight was no different. After I gave him my negative answer, he left, leaving behind only two painted boys standing by the cave's entrance. They chatted quietly about the unfairness of being on guard duty during the feast while I laid down and shut my eyes, hoping to rest a little bit while I waited for the Chief to return.

Not much had happened since the entire Roger incident. Jack still seemed like he felt bad about what had happened, but he didn't bring it up other than the occasional sorry. A couple of my makeshift bandages had fallen off over the days of walking the beach and jungle, showing that my injuries were healing up nicely. I was getting some of my strength back.

Jack also treated me differently than I expected him to. He didn't force me to do much. In fact, he didn't really force me to do anything. Sure, he would tell me to eat my meat but he wasn't aggressive about it. I expected him to subject me to a lot worse than eating food, to put it lightly. I had also noticed that he was making a conscious effort to keep Roger and I apart. Not only was Roger never on guard duty, but one night when he came to the cave wanting to "pay his sister a visit", Jack got rid of him fairly quickly. He was trying to make up for his mistakes, I could see that much.

Usually I waited for Jack to return from the feast before going to sleep, but I couldn't keep myself awake. Before falling asleep the mental image of an attractive blond boy flashed in my mind as I wondered what he was doing on the other side of the island. I hoped Jack wouldn't be mad.

When I opened my eyes, I was staring right at the painted face of the Chief. He wasn't touching me at all, but he was close enough for me to feel his breath on my face. I quietly sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. I moved towards the wall of the cave and waited for Jack to wake up. I didn't think they were hunting today which meant we were probably going for a walk or maybe he would let me go to the bathing pool.

When he awoke, I had been picking at a scab on my arm, causing it to start bleeding. He looked at me confused and sleepy as he moved towards me, wordlessly removed one of the old bandages and covered the reopened wound.

"We should," he started, his voice thick with drowsiness. He cleared his throat and started again, "we should take off some of your bandages today, see how they cuts are looking."

"Okay, Chief," I said and started removing some of the fabric along my legs. I felt like the only things I had said in the last little while were 'okay, Chief', 'yes, Chief', 'yes please, Chief' and the occasional 'no, Chief'. Always 'Chief'. It was the title he had craved so bad, I figured he would at least want to be addressed as such.

He began untying some knots around my leg, running his fingers over the now thin red lines. Most would scar, I knew that much. Jack stared remorsefully at the cuts. I stayed silent.

He then moved on to untying the bandages that ran up my left arm, leaving me slightly useless with my still pretty severely damaged right wrist. That wound was still very open and wrapped up extremely tightly. I knew that bandage wouldn't be coming off for a while. Just the thought of it made my wrist start throbbing.

"These are looking good, Riley," Jack told me optimistically, moving to my right arm, "Are they feeling any better?"

"Yes, Chief," I said as he undid the last of the bandages save for my wrist and the wound I had reopened earlier.

"They look pretty clean, too, which is good, right?"

"Yes, Chief," his expression turned to a state of confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. He opened his mouth several times to speak before finally finding the words he was looking for.

"You don't… you don't always have to call me 'Chief', you know."

Now it was my turn to be confused. All the boys called him Chief. He wasn't Jack anymore. He seemed to read my mind.

"The tribe has to call me Chief – well at least the boys do – I mean, you're part of the tribe now. But you don't. Don't have to call me Chief that is," he looked flustered, for whatever reason. I bet his face was red underneath the war paint covering his features.

"You can also talk, you know," he told me, looking to my eyes now. I turned away from his face. I stayed silent.

"Riley," I shook my head slightly, looking down. I really didn't have much to say to him. I couldn't very well say 'let me go'. Best case scenario he would say no and worst case scenario he would send Roger in to teach me my place.

"Back there…" he started to say, referring to Ralph's side of the island, "we used to get on well. Like that time we went hunting together." I flinched at the memory. While we had been hunting together, we had simultaneously ruined our only chance of rescue thus far. I guess he caught my reaction as he quickly changed the topic.

"Even the times we didn't get on well, like when you were building those huts and we fought about what was more important – shelter or meat – even those times were fun," I thought back to the earlier days on the island, the simpler days. Of course he would've enjoyed arguing with me –he lives for conflict.

"What I'm trying to say is, talk to me. The way you used to. I miss it," I was shocked he had revealed so much as far as his feelings go. The rough, powerful Chief telling the fragile, broken girl he missed it when she heckled him a little bit. I swore I could see his red cheeks even through the paint this time.

"If I speak my mind… you're just going to send my bro-" I stopped. I had already said too much.

"I promise I won't!" He exclaimed. He seemed suddenly fed up with me being his lap dog he controlled. Oh well. That's what he wanted that's what he would get.

"Seriously, Riley! I won't let him hurt you again! Just please stop acting like this! You're not my slave, alright?"

"But I am your captive," with that I turned to face away from him. I wasn't going to risk saying anything more that would get me in trouble. I already felt as though I had pushed my limits. Jack didn't speak again. He sat silently still for a moment, before getting up and leaving the cave. I heard him tell the guards that they were going on an impromptu hunting trip and to watch me while they were gone. Then he turned and left, eventually leaving my sight.

Leaning my head against the cave wall, I thought about what he had said. All he had wanted for me a few days ago – or could it have even been weeks? – was for me to cooperate and cater to his every will. Now all he wanted was for me to speak up and oppose him every once in a while.

I guess what they say is true: you really don't know what you have until it's gone.

A/N Okay guys! Who is going to be my 100th reviewer? And even if you can't be number 100, you can still be 101 or 102 or even 103… what I'm trying to say is, review! The Chief commands you to speak your mind.