I wrote this almost half a year ago when I was reading Lord of the Flies in English because Jack has so much potential as a character, and I like writing insane people. My style of writing is different in this to convey Jack's madness, so I hope you enjoy it and can look past the grammatical nuances I skipped out on in favor of portraying insanity. This begins right after the boys are rescued. Remember to review, because reviews make me a happy authoress.

Disclaimer: Lord of the Flies is not mine. This is a work of fiction.

Song of the Fallen

The rocking of the ship is almost more than he could take. The steady motion – back, forth, back, forth – was so normal, so regular, so usual, that it made him want to scream. He lay on his bed and started at the ceiling and counted, how many, how many dots in the ceiling? He never got the same number twice, and it wasn't right, wasn't right, wasn't right, and it drove him insane because he had to know, had to know how many dots were on that ceiling.

And when night fell, he couldn't count dots any longer, so he counted seconds instead, because he couldn't sleep, he had to stay awake, because when he closed his eyes he saw them – the ghouls, the demons – and they hunted him in the night. Sometimes he would fall into a fitful sleep but wake up screaming because there was a demon hunting him, a demon with a painted face and a wicked grin and bright red hair.

And when morning came, Jack stayed in his cabin and counted again, because numbers were regular and life was not.

[-]

They were put in a hospital when they returned, and it was a white and sterile place with doctors and nurses flurrying about. He was stuck in a dress and put in a bed and he didn't care, because there was a popcorn ceiling above him, and he could count again, count the bumps, the indents, the tiles, the lives lost. Lives lost because of him, but in this sterile world of adults and rules, the island seemed another life, a bad dream, except he knew it was real, so real, and the things that had happened there were not a dream, but reality – a cold, harsh reality.

A nurse comes in and presses a stethoscope to his chest and it's cold like ice and makes it feel like a frozen hand has clenched around his heart, and he knows he deserves it because of what he did, everything that he did. And when the nurse leaves, the sensation remains and he looks out his window to the hallway and sees the boys walking around, boys who have been changed because of the island. He's been changed too, but he doesn't matter, because some have been changed more than him, like Piggy and Simon; they've changed irrevocably, and it's his fault, his fault, his fault.

He doesn't sleep on his own, but the doctors inject something in him that forces him to, and he wants to tell them "Don't!" but it's too late and he's already drifting away. In his solitude and darkness, the red-haired demon comes again, face painted, spear held at the ready, and it whoops and screams and Jack wants to get out, wake up, get out of this nightmare, but he can't, he can't because of the sedatives. He feels like he's drowning, he knows that he's drowning, and he's clawing for the surface, for fresh air, to draw in the breath of real life. And when he finally wakes from his drug induced stupor, he tells the doctors to never give him the sedative again.

[-]

His parents visit him from time to time, and they stroke his hair and tell him how much they love him, but it's not real, because if they knew what he did on the island, they wouldn't love him, could never be able to love him. They try to get him to talk about what happened, but he clamps his mouth shut and refuses because they can never know what their precious son did.

And when they leave, Jack wants to scream again because he's alone, so alone, and the other boys never visit, not that he would expect them to, but the loneliness claws at his chest and he curls in on himself and cries and gasps and sobs until he can't take it anymore and he's raw, completely raw.

And as he runs out of tears, he stares at the doorway, and in it is a figure, and it's not a doctor or nurse or his parents. The figure has dark hair and a sideways smile, and it regards him for a while, and Jack knows who it is, he knows, but it can't be true, it can't, it can't, it can't because Simon's dead and he killed him, oh God, he killed him, and when he looks up again the figure is gone.

[-]

When it's time for him to go home, the doctors wheel him out to his parent's car in a wheelchair, and Jack looks around and sees a world outside his room for the first time in a long time. They travel through the waiting room, and the turn of the wheelchair's wheels on the linoleum floor is almost soothing because of its regularity. And he looks around, and sees the people all around him, and out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of light reflecting off glasses and a short, rather chubby boy is wearing them, and he looks at Jack gravely before turning away and walking off, and Jack is sure he's insane, because he's seeing dead people and that makes him insane, but then he's outside the glass doors of the hospital and his view of the boy is gone.

He is loaded into a car and his parents drive him away, away from this place, away from the other boys, away from his visions of death. They take him to his childhood home and Jack wants to weep when he sees it because the last time he was here, he was a proud, ambitious, and innocent child. The tall, ivy-wrapped walls stand resolute and it reminds Jack of the way he stood when he led to lead his tribe. This house is no longer his home, because the island was his home, the island was where he discovered who he was truly – a horrible, murderous soul, and oh God, he killed on the island, he killed, he slashed, he cut, and now children are dead because of him and oh God, oh God, oh God, I'm going to go to Hell, oh God.

And he heads up to his old bedroom, and sits on the plush bedspread, and it's so rich, so classy, so unlike the raw wild, that Jack almost vomits. And he turns and lies on his back and stares at the ceiling and there's nothing to count, so he counts his breaths until he can breathe no more. And when he finally stops, he curls in on himself, and he sees a dark-haired boy standing in front of him, and it's not real, it can't be real, but Simon stands right in front of him, but it's not true! Not true!

And Simon sighs and looks at Jack sadly, and he shakes his head, and Jack closes his eyes tightly and when he opens them Simon is gone and he's alone, all alone, left with just the memories of the island.

[-]

He refuses to leave his room, even for meals. His parents tut and try to coddle him but he locks his door and turns away and eventually they leave him to himself and his thoughts. And unbidden, a song pops into Jack's head, a song they used to sing in the choir, and it echoes forlornly, every tone perfect except for the missing one, and Jack knows who it belongs to. Pie Jesu, pie Jesu, domine. A voice is missing and the song isn't right without it, and Jack knows, Jack knows, why it's gone. And he can't take it anymore, he just can't, and he runs out of his room and down to the kitchen, and when he's fetched what he intended to fetch, he runs back up, and when he enters his room, it's empty, and the emptiness creates a hollowness in his heart, and it pushes him over the edge and he collapses on his bed and clutches the butcher's knife and stares at it and Why is this cut so hard to make? You cut the pig and you cut the boy and why are you so afraid of this? And his own cowardice pushes him over the edge, and Jack slices down hard and the pain is searing and overwhelming but he keeps cutting and is this what Simon felt? and finally he decides he's done enough and he drops the knife and crumples. And he murmurs aloud, "I'm going to Hell, oh God, I'm going to Hell."

And a figure is suddenly behind him, a figure with dark hair, and it wraps it's arms around Jack and Jack wants to cry, and he keeps repeating his mantra, "Hell, oh God, I'm going to Hell."

And the figure leans in and whispers softly, "I forgive you." And Jack can't stand it anymore, he can't, he can't, because the dark-haired figure's breath was warm on his ear and that made it real. So he turns around and then Simon is gone, and he curls in on himself cradling his wrist and waits for the life to drain out of him.

Oh God, oh God, oh God –

And warm hand clasps his own, and a figure with dark hair whispers, "Hush. Rest now." And Jack can't help but follow the command, and then he's floating away, so far away, until he's gone, gone, gone. And the night is still and calm, and the red-haired demon flees.

[-]

Pie Jesu Domine

Dona eis requiem

Pie Jesu Domine

Dona eis requiem sempiternam

Kind Lord Jesus

Grant them rest

Kind Lord Jesus

Grant them everlasting rest