Simon was yanked forward. When Mr. Hurley spoke, he let go of the bag so that he could put some distance between them. The image was all too vivid and real before his mind's eye and it made him feel humiliated and assaulted already. Wasn't that just how it was? Wasn't that all he was good for? To be used and stepped on.

No. He had to remember that he was going away. Chase his dreams! To love and be loved! To be happy!

Those dreams felt unreal whenever he was in Hurley's presence, like actual pleasant dreams he struggled to remember at all after waking up on a dreary morning. Those eyes - the quiet rage in those cold eyes in a handsome face; they turned pleasant dreams to nightmares.

He clenched his fists. His thumb brushed the outline of the skaning knife in his pocket that Rose had given him. He wouldn't let Hurley trample on him this time.

He had to gather his things and go! Now! "Find someone else," he grunted. Then he stooped down quickly to gather whatever Hurley didn't hold underfoot.