In the days following Alex's burial, I found solace in visiting his grave. Each visit was a quiet ritual, a time to speak to him, remember our moments together, and try to find peace. The spot where he lay became a sanctuary amidst the island's chaos. But that fragile sanctuary was shattered when something came and disturbed it.
One morning, as I approached Alex's grave, I noticed the disturbed earth and the horror of the realization hit me like a physical blow. His body was gone. My heart raced, and I felt the world spin around me. How could this have happened? Who could have done this?
The camp was abuzz with fear and speculation. Some survivors were convinced that Alex had become one of the ferals. They regretted granting Madame Kim's request for a traditional burial, believing it had put them all in danger. The air was thick with tension and suspicion, and the once-unified camp began to fracture.