Jordyn

Sam begins to walk out of the water, training his eyes on me. I dig my hands into the ground and refuse to move. Even as he sizes me up like a lion approaching its prey, I hold my breath. I can't run now. That would only make me look guilty. I didn't do anything wrong.

"Sam, please," I whisper as he hovers over me.

"You have explaining to do," he growls.

I swallow hard.

"I know..." I mutter. "Where do you want me to start?"

Sam sits down in the sand across from me, keeping his knife tight in his fist.

"Kaia's murder," he says. "Was it you?"

"Of course not! I'm not a murderer, Sam."

"Then what are you?"

"I told you. My crime was arson."

"Have you remembered who yet?"

My heart sinks. That is one thing the revelations hid from me. I have absolutely no clue who I killed. That hadn't mattered at the time. I was too distraught with Sam's turning on me.

He knows my answer before I can form words.

"That's a no," he snaps. "So, it could have been my parents."

"I didn't kill your parents, Samson. I know that much."

He eyes me skeptically.

"I've never lied to you," I say softly, playing with the white sand between us. "Why would I choose now of all times?"

Sam scoffs. "I've known you for less than five days."

No, you've known me a lot longer, I want to say. Years. I can still smell the flowers surrounding his house, taste the salted, combined tears on the day it burned, hear the rocks bouncing off the metal, blending with a laugh like angels on high. The memories swirl together like ink floating in black water until one is indecipherable from the other and they come together to make one beautiful, tragic mess-- Sam and me.

I don't know what we were, but that tight feeling in my throat can't be simple familiarity. The ache in my chest can't be faint friendship. There was something more--something stronger--that was swept under the rug. I can feel it through the thick threads that blanket my memories; I just can't uncover it yet.

"Have you gotten any memories back at all?" I ask as an idea forms in my head.

"Why?" he asks, squinting at me.

"Just answer the question."

"I mean, I remember a little," he mumbles as he runs a hand through his hair. It's already a vertical mess. Adding more height is just going to make him look more adorable.

"Let's see if ours match," I say. "That'll prove I'm not lying to you."

"Why would our memories match, Jordyn? That's--"

"Just go along with it, Samson," I plead, throwing a handful of sand at him in frustration. The clump hits him in the leg, and he brushes it off with a scowl.

"Fine. Go ahead."

"You lived in a white house," I whisper, deciding to start small. "It was surrounded by multi-colored flowers that stood maybe three inches off the ground. You had a porch swing." I bury my fingers in the sand and take a shaky breath. "Your mom had eyes the color of the sky on the clearest summer day, just like yours, and she kept her hair in a braid over her shoulder. You look so much like her that it's sort of scary, down to the freckles on your nose. Her name was Lydia, and she loved you more than anything."

I pause to take a gasping breath. It came out in such a rush that I feel lightheaded. Why did I remember more about his mom? All these memories, and I choose to pinpoint details about her. Where was mine? Did I not have a mom?

A few seconds pass before I gather the courage to look up at him.

Sam's mouth hangs open, and his chin quivers slightly. Tears have formed along his lashes, threatening to flood over the side of them. He holds a handful of his jumpsuit in a white-knuckled fist. I consider for a second that he might not be breathing, until I see his chest move stiffly.

"How?" he whispers, finally closing his mouth.

"How, what?" I ask gently, scared.

"How do you know that?"

My breath leaves me in one relieved rush. I wasn't wrong. He's just stunned. I choose my next words carefully.

"Because I was there, Sam."

He shakes his head and rubs the sides of his face with dirty hands. His eyebrows raise themselves, and he eventually closes his eyes. I wait with one hand buried in the sand and the other cradled against my chest.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and lets his chin sink onto his chest. He doesn't open his eyes, instead crushing them closed.

"I know why you're afraid of water," he whispers. I sit up straighter. "I pushed you into a lake when we were little. I knew you couldn't swim. Either way, I did, and when you didn't come back up, I ran to get my parents. Turns out, I couldn't swim either."

A dry laugh eases its way out of his mouth.

"She was so mad at me," he says a little louder, finally opening his eyes. "I remember that it was the longest lecture of my life. You almost died, and it would have been my fault. That's not even what bothers me the most about that memory." He pauses and knits his hands together in front of him. His tongue grazes over his lips, and he bites at them like the story is physically hurting him. "Wanna know what hurts the most about it?"

Our eyes meet.

"Yes, please," I whisper, choking on the knot I can't swallow back.

"I remember exactly how it felt to lose you for a moment. We were only kids, and I'd never felt anything that painful in my life. I know now that I have, years after that. When Dad revived you, you were so glad to see me, like I hadn't just tried to kill you. And, God, I was so happy to see you too."

He rubs his forehead. I notice the fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"What are we?" he asks, strangled by the emotion, tears, and sea wind. I take a shaky breath.

"I don't know," I answer, reaching across to graze his kneecap with my sandy fingers.

"When I walked out of that shed, that same, distant pain hit me. Then, the memory came," he says, staring at my fingers. "I knew right then that you didn't kill my parents. I was just so mad at you for hurting Kaia, and I--"

"I didn't kill her," I interrupt. "Neil did."

Sam's face twists up in confusion. "What?"

"There was a hatch under the rug. I fell on it last night when I was trying to run from some lions. It led to a maze of tunnels that I'm assuming run under the entire island."

"That doesn't tell me how you know it was Neil."

"I followed him through the tunnels," I say, pointing to the door masquerading as a rock. "Led me straight to you."

"Was he really going to kill me?"

I raise my eyebrows.

"Were you really going to let him drown me?"

He winces and looks away.

"I thought the memory was a trick of The Island. The voice said you were guilty; Neil said you were guilty. It looked like you did it. I thought I couldn't trust myself."

I smile--just a little.

"But you weren't going to kill me," I say, squeezing his knee. "You missed."

Sam makes a sound and looks back at me.

"So you noticed."

"Of course, I did."

Sam sighs and puts his hand over mine.

"It makes sense if Neil knows about secret tunnels," he says, retracing the conversation. "That would explain the fruit and wandering into the forest alone."

I nod excitedly.

"And I found a set of doors."

Sam sighs.

"Obviously. You came out of one," he mutters, glancing at the door I came through.

"Not what I meant," I snap. "After Neil left me to die, one of the birds came for Kaia. I thought it was going eat her, but instead, it picked her body up. You saw what that one did to Neil. It just carried her off.

"I followed it to the volcano and climbed the side. When I got to the top, I looked inside and saw these metal doors."

Sam's eyes are wide.

"What?" I ask.

"Jordyn, Neil beat the crap out of you," he says. "You have a broken arm. How in the Lord's name did you climb a mountain?"

"With perseverance?" I reply, stunned. "I was curious. I wanted to know where it was taking her."

"So you wandered alone and hurt through the woods, climbed a mountain, and then came back down to go back to the shed?"

Heat creeps up in my cheeks. I'd known how stupid it was, but hearing it out loud makes it seem a lot worse. I don't mention how I hadn't exactly climbed back down the mountain. Sam doesn't need to know about my graceless descent.

When I take too long to answer, Sam rolls his eyes and flicks a rock in my direction.

"You could have gotten yourself killed, idiot," he mumbles, shaking his head.

"But I didn't. I'm fine. That's not even what's important here," I remind him. "The doors."

"Do you know where they lead?"

I open and close my mouth like a fish. "Well, no..."

"Okay. So how do you know they're a way out?"

"Hope?" I say with a shrug. "They've got to lead somewhere."

"And what if they lead into the tunnel system?" he asks. "What if it's one big maze with no exit in sight?"

I glare at him, but there's no arguing with the truth. What kind of exit points downward? The doors are probably another way into the tunnels, and I have pushed my hope to the limits. Even worse, I realize with that, I may have just allowed Neil to live. The bird won't kill him. It'll just drop him off.

"In that case," I say dryly. "Neil isn't dead. The birds don't actually eat their victims, I don't think."

Sam nods and pushes himself up out of the sand.

"So we're going to have to watch our backs," he states, brushing his jumpsuit off. "What's new?"

I smile up at him and point across the beach.

"Hand me my sling so I can wrap my arm up again."

Sam looks in the direction I'm pointing and then jogs off to retrieve the ripped fabric. While I attempt to tie the sling back together, he stares off into the ocean. I crane my neck awkwardly to one side to hold it still while I tie the knot, but it slips out, over and over again. Grunts slip uninvited out of my mouth, until Sam finally looks over at me.

"Need some help?" he asks, a smirk painted across his face. The small action brings out his dimples.

"Please," I say with a laugh.

Sam turns his back on the ocean to tie the sling for me, and I stare down at my makeshift splint. It's not too terribly made, considering it's all twigs and vines.

"So, what did you do--"

Sam's question is interrupted by a loud splash ahead of us. We both jerk our heads to look out at the crystal blue water. The normally gently waves have turned into wild ripples, centering around the source of the splash.

Sam and I both stand and peer out to see what caused it. My heart sinks by the second. Knowing the creators, they've just plopped a mega-shark or something into the water to finish us off.

Yet, no more than a second passes until we see a set of arms shoot out of the water, paired with an orange jumpsuit and blonde, messy hair.

Another prisoner.

A/N: Random, sorry, but there's a line in here that reminds me of a really, really OLD song, and if you can find it... I don't know. You'll get a shout-out or a dedication or something, 'cause I'll be so impressed.