A/N: I read a rant about the terrible LotF fandom a while back, and the idea for this fic came to me. It's short, but at least I haven't introduced a boatful of hot girls into the picture.
Jack is angry.
Jack is nearly always angry, but sometimes — sometimes it's worse. Sometimes Simon can sense fury welling in Jack, red hot and immutable, until it bursts from him like flames.
Now is one of those times, and as usual, he has come for Simon.
He wonders sometimes why it's him, if it's just him, if Jack's ever come to Ralph with this anger and this need. He wonders if Ralph would give in.
Maybe it's Simon because he does give in, he thinks. Maybe if he fought back, wrested that knife pressed against his neck out of Jack's hands and… but no. It's him because it has to be him. If he fights back, Jack might kill him. If Jack kills him, someone else will have to become Jack's toy.
So Simon stays on his hands and knees with the sharp pressure of the blade against the pulse in his neck, doesn't make a sound as Jack thrusts into him. It hurts, sort of, and it hurt worse the first time, but Jack's still just a kid and he's not big, even if he's a little bigger than Simon.
Simon feels the knife leave his throat, drag down the skin stretched taut over his spine, stinging as it just cuts into his skin. Jack's forefinger follows the trail of the knife, pressing harder, pushing his finger into Simon's shallow wound. Simon bites his lip and hangs his head, trying trying trying not to cry out and almost succeeding, almost, but for a tiny whimper in the back of his throat.
"Shut it!" Jack demands, his open palm landing a blow to the side of Simon's head. Simon stays quiet this time.
He remains for a long time after Jack leaves, laying on his stomach in the cool dirt, waiting for the smarting in his back to dull. He feels something sticky and warm trickling between his legs and isn't sure whether it's blood or Jack's semen.
He pulls on his shorts with shaky hands. He fell, he'll tell them, if anyone asks at all. Slipped and landed on a sharp rock, twisted his ankle a bit, that's why he's walking funny. He won't mention Jack. He never has. He knows Ralph will try to protect him, but Simon knows it is he who must protect Ralph — and everyone else on the island.
He was chosen, and he will bear this for them.