The Island

26. Life and Death

Jordyn

Seeing the knife aimed at Sam sends my body into a wild panic unlike anything I've ever felt. Even while dealing with the lions and Neil, I cowered away. I felt more scared than anything, refusing to fight back even when pushed to the brink of death.

Yet, as I watch Neil, I see the fire of my pain-induced memory. I see Sam's parents burning, my father crying over their loss, Sam sitting broken in a chair--crumpled in distress. I see myself, and I feel how helpless I felt then. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I promised myself then, just like I have now, that I would never feel that hopeless again.

I'm meant to help people, not destroy them.

I'm not a murderer.

I'm a rebel.

Without thinking of the consequences, I throw open the door and launch myself across the sand at Neil. He hears the metal drag across the coarse ground and turns, but there's nothing either of us can do as my shoulders meet his chest and throw him across Sam. We land in a tangled heap on top of the once-sleeping boy. Neil wraps his arms around me, and we roll off together, a mess of flailing arms and legs. I grapple for the knife whose hilt I feel pressing against my hand. His grip holds firm, though, and I can't get my fingers under his.

Within seconds, Neil's advantages over me become clear. He's obviously stronger, and I'm down one arm. Luckily the sling holds itself together, but there's little I can do as he flips me over onto my back and digs his knees into my stomach. All it takes is one of his arms to hold down my good one. His nails dig into the skin of my wrist as he presses me into the sand.

"Well, look who showed her face," Neil says. I attempt to jerk my wrist away from him, but it's useless. He digs the knife into my palm until I feel it break the skin. Yet, I refuse to whimper, even as the pain spreads down my wrist.

"What's going on?"

Neil and I both look to our left. Sam has risen off the sand, wide-eyed and confused. His voice and eyes are thick with sleep. The emotions are painted so clearly on his face that he might as well be writing them across his forehead. He looks at Neil first, his eyebrows forming high arches across his forehead. Then, the blue eyes that once tore me down float around to me, and his mouth opens in disbelief. The eyebrows sink down into his eye sockets; the skin between his eyes wrinkles like folds of cloth. I could probably make a noose with that disapproval.

"I thought you took care of her," he spits, turning his eyes away from me to look at Neil again.

"So did I," Neil answers, pushing his knee into my ribcage. A cough sputters out of my lips, and I wiggle under him to find space to breathe. The small movement only makes him press harder, though.

"Well, what went wrong?"

"I don't know, Samson," Neil snaps, "but she just tried to kill me."

A dry laugh slips out of my mouth.

"Me? Kill you?! That's not what happened," I manage to bark out through a mouthful of sand and with very little air. Neil and Sam both seem surprised that I've found my voice. It's terribly unlike me to speak out.

"You were trying to kill me! You attacked me!" Neil says, his voice a deep shade of red.

"Yeah, because you were-"

He cuts me off quickly by wrapping his free hand around my throat. I jerk wildly at his arm as my lungs begin to burn. I feel the heat coursing through my face as it morphs from red into purple.

Strengths, Jordyn. Strengths.

With a desperate grunt, I lift my knee up and plant it between his open legs.