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He twists his face, glaring at me and giving me no sign he’s scared. I grin at him, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me. “You know, we’re not so different you and I, Nigel,” I tell him.

He scoffs, still acting tough. “Is that so?” he snarls, his face still radiating with supreme arrogance, even as he nears death.

My lips twitch into a smile as I forcefully slam his head to the ground. “It is so,” I growl, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re not the only one on this island who has a desire to inflict pain on others. I’ve witnessed countless people die, though I haven’t caused any of those deaths. I imagine it must be quite an emotional experience. Since I’ve suppressed my emotions for most of my life, this might ignite something within me I’ve been missing.”

No response, partly because I am blocking his airway and his mouth is pressed in a pile of snow. But he can hear me. I know he can. And oddly enough, this is really the first time I’ve ever spoken to him. Even when we weren’t on this island, I never deemed him important enough to talk to. For the few short weeks I lived near him at this very lake, he was insignificant to me. Even then, my instincts were spot-on.

I start my monologue with well-prepared words already in mind. I have spent weeks envisioning this moment. “Human beings are truly fascinating,” I continue. “The depths of our capabilities, the twisted aspects that lie beneath the surface. What interests me the most is how fucking emotional we are. You see, what I have come to realize is that in the moment before death, individuals can only experience one emotion. It is a primal response to their circumstances. Yet, from what I’ve observed, that emotion is different for everyone.”

I pull out my bone weapon and stick the tip right against his neck.

“Olivia… you remember her?” I snicker. “Yeah, of course you do. She was too fucked up when she died to have any real emotion. Her head just hit the side of the window, and she choked on her own vomit.” He flinches at my words. “And Maison, my brother, my fucking twin, was happy and calm when he died because that’s who he was at his core.” I press his face further into the snow, watching his body convulse from lack of oxygen. “And right before Ezra thought I was going to kill him, he pissed himself.” I chuckle at that one. “Tell me, what did Ollie say or do? Was he alive when you cut his fucking head off?”

I turn Nigel around so I can see his face. He coughs and spits out snow, some of it hanging from his nose. He doesn’t blink; he just stares at me with idle eyes. “I want to see what emotion you have, Nigel.” I shake him so hard that his head bobbles.

He gives me nothing, just as I suspected.

“You’re a little fucking sociopath, just like London says you are.”

His lip curls, and he starts to laugh.

I tilt my head to the side. “Fuck me, humor?” I snicker. Apparently, the laughter is contagious. “That’s not what I was expecting from you, Nigel. I have to say that I’m surprised.”

With a satisfied grin, I smile back at him, relishing in the victory and the satisfaction of finally getting something out of him. I almost don’t want to ask him because I know he’s up to something, but I can’t help it. I need to know what’s so fucking funny.

“What is it?” I say through gritted teeth. “What do you want to say to me, Nigel? What are your last fucking words?”

He licks his lips, swallowing something hard in his throat. Blood maybe?

“London’s a whore… I hope you know I enjoyed every second of having my way with her. I ruined her for you, Micah. She will always be tainted by me now. My final present to you.”

My stomach tenses. Rage boils through me as I tighten my grip on him.

He laughs again. “Don’t worry. I knocked her out before I started, so she probably doesn’t remember most of it. She was so tight, though, tighter than I thought she’d be given how worn in she is.”

My fist hits his face with such force that blood spurts out of his nose. He doesn’t get to talk again because the second punch breaks his jaw. Unleashing brute force is intensely satisfying. I do it again and again and again, ignoring the shooting pain in my wrist as I connect bone to bone. Fist to face, blood oozing from his eyes from where I’m indenting his skull.

I ease off for only a moment as he wiggles beneath me. I’m not going to make this a quick death. I won’t just slit his throat or stab him. I will not make this humane…

He will die by blunt force.

I unleash on him. All of it, every dark piece of myself, and I punch him until my hands go raw.

All my hurt, anger, pain… all of it shoots through me and into him.

I rip his arm out of its socket.

“Fuck!” I scream as I break apart his bones.

I let go entirely. Somehow, his heart is still pounding in his chest as I lay my hand on it, finally ready to pierce it with my bone weapon.

“Micah, stop!”

London.

I jump to my feet and raise my head with a feral look on my face and blood on my hands. She’s standing with Ezra in front of me. With her hand tightly clutching her spear, she takes a decisive step forward, her eyes vacant, wild, and broken.

I run my hands through my hair. I didn’t want her to see me like this… so utterly fucking destroyed.