It has it's ups and downs

An intense series of flamingo guitar's strumming tones reverberate in your imagination, running unleashed once more. This time, the scene was slight by the dim reflections of fire.

You were careful to act asleep just long enough to trick Lucy so she would fall asleep herself, leaving you alone to confront Wilson and whatever your mind had in store for you.

Wilson began to dance, a palm-leaf skirt flying about her hips, seducing your gaze. The dance, however, refused to spark her eyes, though they were looking directly into your own. Her usual expression surfaced, but somehow you were sure she was unhappy...putting on a show just to taunt you for your idiocy.

It drove you mad. The thought of this seductive volleyball...what was the point of imagining this sort of thing? You weren't sure, but somehow it felt right to continue. Of course you knew it was rather ridiculous, the whole imaginary endeavor, but then everything about the situation was ridiculous. In comparison it seemed one of the most sanity-inducing thoughts on your mind, or at least the most familiar.

Her dancing filled your mind for a while longer, the flame turning to embers and bugs beginning to get a little more brave. You felt pinches, and knew you needed to find more wood if you wanted to avoid itching all day tomorrow. Getting up, you explored the nearby area for whatever fuel you could find, and brought back a few sticks.

Then, you felt something cold press against the back of your skull, and turning around you saw the man Lucy had described. A dark suit, handgun, briefcase, sunglasses (how could he see through those things?) and a figure built like a tank. You were about to shout, scream, not even for Lucy's sake but just to vent the fear. But alas, he raised the gun to his lips, requesting silence and, naturally, obedience. Then he nodded his head backwards, a little to the side, motioning you to follow him, and making sure the gun was pointed directly at your chest should you try to run.

You couldn't think, couldn't breath, but somehow your legs moved and you did follow him against all better judgement.

She was right...I can't believe she was right.

Your mind kept repeating over and over as you walked through the darkness after your captor.

Wandering around in the woods without a light, you stumbled a few times. But your legs refused to stop and even when you fell over completely they refused to let you stay down, possessing your arms so you'd lift yourself back up.

Eventually you came to a stop, helplessly lost and completely blind except for the silvery shine of the moon reflecting off of his gun.

He spoke in a gruff voice, fitting his figure if not his restraint; "Take this."

And with those two simple words he handed you the briefcase, and the gun. You blinked a few times, sure this must be a dream. "Why..?" you asked, cocking the hammer, ready to blow his brains out for killing Lucy's friend.

He shook his head, you only knew because of his reflective glasses. "Wouldn't matter if I told you, it's all in the briefcase."

Then he turned, about to walk away, and you had a rage you didn't know was in you begin to rise up. He's just gonna walk away like this? Just gonna leave us here after scaring me half to ****?

You pulled the trigger.

Click!

Nothing happened, the hammer slammed into thin air. You ejected the cylinder (it was some sort of 6-shooter, but you weren't an expert in guns and in the dark you couldn't make out much) and found it empty. This puzzled you even more, and while he walked away you felt the urge to shout once again, this time to vent your rage, to tackle him with words so he might say something useful. But somehow it didn't seem right, and you stayed silent, returning to the little camp by stumbling around back towards the faint light, and after far too long you managed to find the dying fire.

You sat, unable to sleep. Loading and unloading the cylinder of the gun. After a minute or so, Lucy spoke, startling you. "Why were you gone so long?" she rolled over, looking deep into your eyes with a worried expression.

You gulped. "It's probably best I tell you in the morning."

A couple things to mention here...

Firstly, I'm pretty inexperienced with almost everything I'm writing about here. Guns, deserted islands, survival, even the psychology of the characters to some degree. Hell, I'm new to writing entirely. If anyone can spare the time to tell me, how am I doing? Is there anything you want to see me improve upon? I'd love to hear it if there is!

Secondly, if anyone's wondering, the main character, "you" has a lot of intentional flaws. I plan to have a good deal of character development in the future, so don't **** me over that just yet! I'm also curious what you (the reader) think of Lucy.

Thirdly, should I change the title of the first chapter in this branch so people know it's not really centered on a volleyball? I feel like that might be more fair to readers, but I also love the mystery surrounding the name, which is why I'm asking you. I'm kinda on the fence about it.