Page 65 of The Darkest Hour

I wasn’t sure how this partnership would go, but I would do my best to work with him as long as he made everything fair.

Okay. What should I do with the rest of this stuff?

Even though everything had been rotting, the boat was in decent shape. Not that I ever wanted to see a fucking boat again or go out on that ocean, but. . .

This could be used for shelter in some way.

Even though I barely had the strength to do so, I would have to drag this boat back to our raft and see what I could do with the both of them.

For now it was only a light rain, but it could just as easily shift into a heavy storm.

First, I have to get rid of these bodies.

I turned my attention back to the grim scene—the three small, handcuffed skeletons behind the adult one.

Sick bastard. Nothing good could came from this situation.

And it was probably stupid of me to think this way, but I felt like the children deserved a proper resting place.

Okay. Let’s get to work.

Using a piece of driftwood, I dug a shallow grave in the soft sand. It wasn’t that deep or wide, but it was the best I could do while exhausted and dehydrated.

So fucking sad.

The first child, I gently lifted the bones. A lump formed in my throat. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. Rest in peace.”

I placed the bones into the grave and returned for the second.

As I gathered the small skeleton, tears blurred my vision, surprising me because I thought I would be too dehydrated to even cry.

“You didn’t deserve this. May you find peace.” I laid the second child’s skeleton beside the first, and moved to the third.

My heart ached as I held the fragile bones. “I’m sorry.”

With all three children laid to rest, I pushed sand over them and created a small mound.

Then, I got that same driftwood I’d used to shovel with and stuck it into the mound like it was a tombstone.

There we go.

I stood there for a moment, the rain mixing with my few tears.

This world is capable of so much cruelty. Why?

Next, I looked at the adult skeleton and scowled. “You don’t deserve a grave, piece of shit.”

Angry, I kicked the bones toward the ocean, hoping that by the morning the waves would carry them away.

May you never rest in peace, sick bastard.

Feeling somewhat better, I returned my view to the small mound and driftwood that marked the children's grave.

The image of their small, bound skeletons would probably haunt me like other terrible things from my past did.

A chill ran down my spine, and I wondered if the sadness and anger of their untimely deaths had left an imprint on this island.

What if they had become ghosts, trapped here forever?