Sirens wailed in the distance despite the fact that they were on a private island, far from the main city. The sound still echoed annoyingly from the rescue boats docked by the very same pier they had stepped off of just a few days ago, as a stark reminder that they were still waiting for any other survivors who might somehow make their way to the shore. Firefighters rushed back and forth, carrying their equipment while the paramedics, the coastguards all hurried to assist the injured, some already covered in body bags. They all worked tirelessly, taking statements from those who had survived the fire and were still conscious enough to speak. 

Hours must have passed, yet the fire still raged on. He certainly hadn't bothered to check on his smartwatch; it was probably dead by now. It had been too long since he last charged it and besides, the charger is literally inside the very building that was burning. Instead, he watched as the emergency responders worked, ferrying the survivors toward the boats. He can feel his anxiety rise each moment passed, wondering what would happen once the fire had died down and the last of these survivors were rescued. Would he finally leave the island, then? 

He tried not to let the thought affect him. He had to hold it in, still, the night's not over yet and by the looks of it, this operation would continue on until the morning. All these people, the ones who were being carried away in these ferries were people he knew. They had all grown up together and if he closed his eyes, he still could picture their younger selves in their school uniforms, their laughter filling the halls of their school. They were all so young back then, thinking that they owned the world. How did it come to this? Just days ago, they had all walked through these docks, excited and unaware that it would be their last reunion together. 

Now he sat there alone on the sand, staring at the aftermath of the tragedy unfolding before his eyes, still dressed in his best suit—the only suit he owned—with a blanket draped over his shoulders by one of the paramedics who had come and checked on him. Despite her trying to coax him into one of the ferries heading back to the main city, he had refused. 

"I'm waiting for someone." he had said. And she had the gall to look sorry for him, as if he had lost two of his closest friends already. No one had seen them anyway, if their bodies hadn't shown up, then they must've survived the fire, must they? They had to make it out--they just had to.

After all, what had happened here wasn't just a tragedy for a group of ordinary people. These were and are the sons and daughters of some of the most powerful families in the country. The ones he was waiting for, one of them was the son of the most powerful of them all. There would certainly be retribution for this if he hadn't made it out alive, he was sure of it. Either way, he would have his answers.