The snake was venomous.
And I’m going to die here.
Alone.
Death is quieterthan I expected.
The pain is gone. I didn’t realize how bad it was until it stopped.
Everything feels… lighter.
The ground beneath me no longer presses hard against my back. The air moves softly over my skin. Even the sounds of the island seem muted, like they’ve drifted farther away.
For a moment, I just lie there, letting it happen.
I always thought death would be terrifying, but it isn’t. The fear that had its grip on me is gone, replaced by something calmer.
Just stillness.
This is what the end feels like. And dying isn’t so bad.
A quiet warmth spreads through my chest as another thought rises.
Maybe I won’t be alone.
For years, the island has been full of ghosts—Ryan’s voice carrying on the wind, Jameson’s laughter slipping into moments when I wasn’t expecting it. Even my parents sometimes—my mum’s voice calling my name, my dad’s footsteps I still half expect to hear. They’re small fragments that surface when I close my eyes.
They’ve been gone for so long. But maybe they aren’t gone completely. Maybe they’re somewhere waiting.
The idea slips in and is strangely soothing.
I picture Ryan first, leaning against a tree the way he used to, watching everything without needing to say much. Jameson beside him, restless as always, already impatient, like he’s been waiting too long.
I can almost see them.
Almost hear them.
And for the first time since the bite, fear fades to the background.
My breathing slows. The island fades, softening at the edges as everything drifts out of focus.
Then, somewhere beyond it all, a sound breaks through. Faint at first. Barely more than a murmur. It blends with everything else so easily I almost miss it.
The warmth around me deepens, pulling me under, my thoughts loosening even more as the world slips away.
Then the sound comes again.
A voice.
Faint. Distant. Too far away to make out.
For a second, I think it might be Ryan. My mind reaches for him automatically, the way it always does when the island goes quiet like this. But the voice doesn’t match.
It’s rougher. Lower. Closer.
The words start to separate from the blur of sound.
“…Charlotte…”
