Would You Hold It Against Me

(Nothing really graphic, but I'm playing it safe for now. Tell me if you think it needs the label because I may just get rid of it.)
Woops. My hand slipped.
Jack and Ralph from Lord of the Flies, post-novel, unrescued AU.
I saw the girl next to me in class doodling flowers and rainbows and I told myself, man, I could do that! So I pulled out my notebook at doodled a tad. I said: "I'll draw some hugging! That's sweet and innocent!" I looked away to write my homework, looked back, and gosh darnit this was staring back at me.
All my self-disapproval aside, I'm pretty happy with this sketch. Tried a few new things and it didn't ruin everything for a change, and I was able to use shading without killing myself over it! Oh, and the people. I guess they're in the picture too. hehe.
Aww yeah. Full fic coming up, guys. Post-novel, angsty, shipping, the whole shabang. But here's a piece for you:



Ralph counted the lines scratched into the wall. He counted the number of rocks he’d worn smooth etching those marks. He counted the shadows he could see past the screen of the cave and he counted the shadows that he saw whenever he closed his eyes. He counted to number of boys that would never see their parents again. But the lines were foremost, always.
Had he drawn one already today? Should he, just in case? He couldn’t afford to lose count. He couldn’t let the numbers jumble into mixed up digits in his head like the other boys had. Was it forty-one or fourteen? Sixteen or sixty?
Ralph still kept track, but it wasn’t out of any hope of rescue, out of thankfulness for each blessed day the chief didn’t kill him. Ralph counted, trying to hold onto time. The passing of time was all he could be certain of in this prison of a camp, where only shadows walked the floors and only his own crying was audible. But he tried not to cry.
“Someday you’ll see. Someday you’ll learn.” The chief growls at the untouchable boy- the child who couldn’t be cracked. Ralph could feel the new bruise on his arm. Twenty-seven. He stared only down as the savage hissed profanity at him, counting the ribs he could see. Eight.
“Look at me!” Ralph refused. It was his last defiant stand, not to give the chief the satisfaction of his win. Soon he’d go hunting; soon he’d leave off the abuse and Ralph could rest at least an hour in peace of mind that death wasn’t his present- merely his future.