I ripped into the animal's flesh. Some time ago I had been a vegetarian. Time has become a slippery concept. Perhaps it has been years, maybe only a week. I pulled some muscle off the animal's leg. It would feed me tonight, and perhaps tomorrow. I would dry the rest of the meat, so that I would not have to kill again so soon.

The sun had hovered at the top of its arc, and was now slowly starting to fall. I would have to carve the rest of the animal's flesh, and hang it to dry. It would be hard to do on an empty stomach. An stomach empty enough hurts. Pain can make you do shameful things. I had lectured my friends on the cruelty of meat, and here I was, salivating as some part of the animal sizzled over the fire. I had nobody left to share it with. There were five of us that, exhausted, made it to the beach. Now, there was just me.

Carving the carcass took longer than I expected. I didn't really know what to do with the wobbly belly lumps. Organs I think, although which ones were which I had no idea. I figured out the colon in the most unpleasant way. Steven would have known which bits were which. But the hardest part was the head. I knew from watching TV, one of the nerdy science channels that brains were full of nutrition. But it was the face that made it hard. Every now and then, I would see the eyes, and I would know that I had killed this animal.

Getting late, the sun races toward the sea. Still no sign of rescue, although I'm not sure I want to be rescued anymore. How can I go back to my old life, having eaten meat? My friends will sneer over their pasta bake. "Murderer" they will say. And I will agree with them.

Finally, the meat is all hung on poles, out of reach of any hungry beasts that may roam the island. Although, perhaps I am the only one here now. It isn't a very big island. It seems to be smaller tonight. The fire will keep away the dark, and the thoughts. As the sun sets, I know that I am not worth saving, but I will be rescued. The only one left.

I just cannot sleep. I have been trying not to acknowledge the fact that my dinner tonight was last night eating its own dinner. That it had a heartbeat, and breathed the same air I do. I have been calling it the animal, trying to make it impersonal, distant, and painless. But I keep running my mind back to yesterday morning.

There had been no breakfast, again. I'd been thinking about killing the animal, and the best way of doing it. I had no easy weapon, no knife or gun. We had very little when we swam to the shore. I had to take it by surprise. I hoped that bashing its brains in with a large rock would be quick and painless. I would hate to see it suffer.

But I was an ethical human. I tried to live in harmony with nature. I donated to worthy causes. I exercised regularly, and made sure all my purchases had a low carbon footprint. I didn't eat meat, for so many reasons. I can't pontificate now, with this bloodstain. Three days, between the first thought of grabbing the protein that was walking around the island with me, and actually doing the killing.

Finally, this morning I did it. Now it's dark, and it has started to haunt me. The moon shines on me, although I haven't asked it to pollute its light with my corruption. I took a rock, and stealthily came up behind the animal. I must have startled it at the last minute, because as I raised the rock over my head, it turned around. I will never forget the noise that came out of its throat.

"What the fuck, Jake?"

I miss Steven.