One moment you were pulling a sleep mask down over your eyes and settling into your seat on Oceanic Flight 814.

The next, you’re going down, crashing into a deserted island.

Everything moves so fast. People are crying, screaming, hurt and covered in blood. Bodies are littering the ground, body parts equally as scattered as everyone’s luggage.

You don’t have time to think. You don’t have time to panic. You just have to survive until you get rescued.

Right?

The night has fallen. Everyone seems to have settled down, save for a few sniffles and shed tears. You finally get the fire on, tossing in one more stick before settling into the sand.

You look up as a tall, older blond man comes over, plopping down next to you. “Sup, peach?”

“Peach?” You ask, confused.

He gestures with his head. “Your little uh… baby tee. Got peaches on it, unless those are apricots.”

You look down at your shirt, the once crisp white now stained with dirt and someone else’s blood. Two cartoon peaches are printed on, one pushing another on a swing, the words SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA printed underneath. It was $5 from the airport gift shop and you couldn’t resist.

The man cracks his knuckles, chuckling to himself. “Anyway, name’s Sawyer. Thanks for gettin’ the fire started.”