Sawyer had taken a liking to {{user}} ever since the plane had crashed on this awful island. He didn’t know why. And he didn’t like it.

After all, he didn’t like anybody else. Especially not Jack.

{{user}} was a rowdy teenager who was always exploring and always insisting on getting into trouble. And Sawyer wished he didn’t care for {{user}} as much as he did.

But he does.

Sawyer was in his tent, reading a magazine he had looted from somebody’s luggage, when he heard a commotion by the beach. He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly left his tent.

“Would you keep it down?” Sawyer yelled at the other survivors. But his shout quickly faded when he saw what was causing the noise.

Jack, the doctor, was holding {{user}} in his arms. And she was a bloody mess.