The heat that Adam was feeling was more than anything combined from the past few days. He wasn't going to let Salem catch him. Some of the slaps left tender patches in their wake and the blows reverberated through his body while the hand that came in contact with the wire was losing vivid tiny drops of blood. So when he managed to back Salem into the wall with a heavier swing, there was a sense of victory. A short one.
He was about to lunge forward too to push, but the the sensation that followed was excruciating.
His muscles tensed and his senses were very much overwhelmed in the first place. "Sal—!!" The spikes grated against his skin—“mmm, ghck!!” Ever had a piece of paper slide right through the most delicate part of your finger? More than one at the same time? Or tiny needles inserted into your flesh?
"I—" Breathe. "I HATE YOU!” The pain was sharp and searing, a white-hot agony that radiated across his face. He could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth as he struggled to free himself from the vicious grip, his lip torn open. The gnarled barbs tore through his skin, their edges sinking into flesh and muscle—“I hate you, I hate you, do you fucking hear me, Salem!!!" he screamed harshly, his attempt of a kick going nowhere before he cried out again. The wire grated against his eyes, their points gouging into soft tissue. Adam's vision was immediately clouded by the red haze of pain and blood oozing, rendering him partially blind and disoriented.
SLEEPING ON A BED OF THORNS
YET STILL YOU CALL THEM ROSES? (Day 10, morning; Private)
The barbs dug into Salem's hands again, but he could tell from the screaming if nothing else that it was doing more damage to Adam. His eyes stung from the smoke, but this close, he could make out the split skin on Adam's face even through the purple haze. It was impression more than detail, but it told him enough.
He wrenched his hand away, gasping in pain again as the barbed wire tore free of his hand, and instead he grabbed the front of Adam's shirt while Adam kicked and screamed about how he hated, hated, hated him.
"Good," he hissed, and shoved as hard as he could.
He wrenched his hand away, gasping in pain again as the barbed wire tore free of his hand, and instead he grabbed the front of Adam's shirt while Adam kicked and screamed about how he hated, hated, hated him.
"Good," he hissed, and shoved as hard as he could.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
shoulda coulda woulda
Clingy as Adam was in his nature, there was nothing else to grab onto but Salem’s arm when he lost his footing and balance, pulling him over too.
Unfortunately, it didn’t stop Adam from slipping over the edge that was right behind him.
It was a long fall down, but not long enough to sense anything else but his heart skipping a beat until the ground rushed up to meet him.
The thud was louder than any of the others before.
S073 – ADAM LADER: DECEASED
Clingy as Adam was in his nature, there was nothing else to grab onto but Salem’s arm when he lost his footing and balance, pulling him over too.
Unfortunately, it didn’t stop Adam from slipping over the edge that was right behind him.
It was a long fall down, but not long enough to sense anything else but his heart skipping a beat until the ground rushed up to meet him.
The thud was louder than any of the others before.
S073 – ADAM LADER: DECEASED
Time and again, Adam proved that at the very least, he could give back almost as good as he got. That was something.
Salem realized it when Adam seized him back just as tightly and he felt, for an instant, that shared center of gravity as it tilted and then toppled.
There was a shrill, bloodcurdling scream as Adam went over the edge, and Salem only realized it was his own screaming when his chest hit the wooden beam at the edge of the tower platform hard enough to drive all the breath from his lungs. His arms swung wildly in the empty space in front of him, Adam torn out of his grasp just as surely as the barbed wire had torn out of his skin. Droplets of blood flew through the column of space that suddenly felt massive between the top of the tower and the ground before splattering soundlessly on the floor below.
Prone, suffocating, his vision finally clear from the smoke as it continued to swirl over his head, he had a front-row view of Adam's landing. The sound was loud but still surprisingly muted underneath the remnants of Salem's own voice ringing in his ears.
From up here, Salem could now clearly see where Adam's eye had been gashed open. The other one was wide open too, staring back up at him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, blood began to pool around Adam's head, and that was when it felt final. Salem finally drew breath, more of a wheeze than a gasp, and he feebly pushed himself back from the edge.
He curled up on his side, cradling his freshly bloodied hand to his chest, and waited for the smoke to clear.
Salem realized it when Adam seized him back just as tightly and he felt, for an instant, that shared center of gravity as it tilted and then toppled.
There was a shrill, bloodcurdling scream as Adam went over the edge, and Salem only realized it was his own screaming when his chest hit the wooden beam at the edge of the tower platform hard enough to drive all the breath from his lungs. His arms swung wildly in the empty space in front of him, Adam torn out of his grasp just as surely as the barbed wire had torn out of his skin. Droplets of blood flew through the column of space that suddenly felt massive between the top of the tower and the ground before splattering soundlessly on the floor below.
Prone, suffocating, his vision finally clear from the smoke as it continued to swirl over his head, he had a front-row view of Adam's landing. The sound was loud but still surprisingly muted underneath the remnants of Salem's own voice ringing in his ears.
From up here, Salem could now clearly see where Adam's eye had been gashed open. The other one was wide open too, staring back up at him.
Slowly, ever so slowly, blood began to pool around Adam's head, and that was when it felt final. Salem finally drew breath, more of a wheeze than a gasp, and he feebly pushed himself back from the edge.
He curled up on his side, cradling his freshly bloodied hand to his chest, and waited for the smoke to clear.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
[S119 - Julia Guercio - continued from Live Deliciously]
Julia stumbled aimlessly through town as she had one last look around before making her way towards Lily's hiding spot. She still had a few hours before nightfall and wanted to use that time wisely to collect any further resources or supplies that could help Lily and her with their next steps.
The church carried a lot of mixed emotion with it. The trauma of Przemek yet the warmth of the rest of their time there. She wasn't religious, at all, yet being in the presence of holiness had somehow cascaded feelings of belief into her crippled mind. She expected Przemek's body to still be there, but deeply hoped that she wouldn't come across it after Joshua had valiantly removed it. There were still rooms, spaces to explore within the church so it felt like the perfect pit stop before continuing on her way.
As she clawed open the heavy doors at the front of the church, she realised that the room was a bigger mess than she had left it those days ago. Blood stains on the ground seemed to have grown, the church pews even more spaced out, some wrecked and others standing firm against the adversity of their youthful fate.
However, her silent inspection did not last long.
A kerfuffle, joined by some raised voices, the resonating sound of bodies coming together.
And then a whizz followed by an almighty crash to the ground.
THUD.
Not unlike the thuds that she had engrained in her mental scars, Przemek's face being impacted by the blunt object over and over. This one however was a one-and-done situation, any flurry of pain was clearly over before it had even started. She wanted to scream as she realised what it was that had fallen before her, a now-deceased member of her class, succumbing instantly to the perils of his face and body smashing into the cold, concrete floor. No signs of life, at all.
She opened her mouth ajar as she fell backwards in shock, dropping her weapon and spilling her bag from her shoulder as it gracefully hit against the floor and slid just out of reach. Her mouth was open yet no noise immediately rung from it. The fear, a rush of adrenaline, the disbelief of what had just happened. Her mind sprinted at a thousand miles per hour, running through different possibilities hoping to figure out what had actually just happened. From the voices it sounded like there was somebody else up there but she had no idea of their condition. Were they injured? Perhaps this boy was shouting to himself and decided he wanted to plummet to his death in a final act of his own decision.
A few moments passed without any noise. Just the dust cloud secreting from beyond the wretched corpse.
Then she screamed.
There it was.
Toe-curling, blood-curdling, a wistful exclamation.
She frantically coiled her fingers to dig into the smooth surface of the ground, scratching at the non-existant grips in an attempt to pull herself back.
Julia stumbled aimlessly through town as she had one last look around before making her way towards Lily's hiding spot. She still had a few hours before nightfall and wanted to use that time wisely to collect any further resources or supplies that could help Lily and her with their next steps.
The church carried a lot of mixed emotion with it. The trauma of Przemek yet the warmth of the rest of their time there. She wasn't religious, at all, yet being in the presence of holiness had somehow cascaded feelings of belief into her crippled mind. She expected Przemek's body to still be there, but deeply hoped that she wouldn't come across it after Joshua had valiantly removed it. There were still rooms, spaces to explore within the church so it felt like the perfect pit stop before continuing on her way.
As she clawed open the heavy doors at the front of the church, she realised that the room was a bigger mess than she had left it those days ago. Blood stains on the ground seemed to have grown, the church pews even more spaced out, some wrecked and others standing firm against the adversity of their youthful fate.
However, her silent inspection did not last long.
A kerfuffle, joined by some raised voices, the resonating sound of bodies coming together.
And then a whizz followed by an almighty crash to the ground.
THUD.
Not unlike the thuds that she had engrained in her mental scars, Przemek's face being impacted by the blunt object over and over. This one however was a one-and-done situation, any flurry of pain was clearly over before it had even started. She wanted to scream as she realised what it was that had fallen before her, a now-deceased member of her class, succumbing instantly to the perils of his face and body smashing into the cold, concrete floor. No signs of life, at all.
She opened her mouth ajar as she fell backwards in shock, dropping her weapon and spilling her bag from her shoulder as it gracefully hit against the floor and slid just out of reach. Her mouth was open yet no noise immediately rung from it. The fear, a rush of adrenaline, the disbelief of what had just happened. Her mind sprinted at a thousand miles per hour, running through different possibilities hoping to figure out what had actually just happened. From the voices it sounded like there was somebody else up there but she had no idea of their condition. Were they injured? Perhaps this boy was shouting to himself and decided he wanted to plummet to his death in a final act of his own decision.
A few moments passed without any noise. Just the dust cloud secreting from beyond the wretched corpse.
Then she screamed.
There it was.
Toe-curling, blood-curdling, a wistful exclamation.
She frantically coiled her fingers to dig into the smooth surface of the ground, scratching at the non-existant grips in an attempt to pull herself back.
You know, Salem really hadn't appreciated how good he'd had it when dealing with Billie and Colm. They'd had their problems, sure, but it had been kind of nice to get away without having to deal with any extra witnesses. The violet smoke had only barely started to clear from above him when it was made very clear that he had yet another uninvited guest.
The scream set his teeth on edge, and he slowly dragged himself up to peer over the edge of the ladder again, squinting through the smoke.
"Do you mind?" He asked, or rather croaked. His own screaming had blown his voice. "I'm having a moment up here-"
Oh. He couldn't quite say "speak of the devil," or anything like that, because he hadn't spoken about Julia in a hot minute, but he'd had a passing thought or two. He'd had more pressing things on his mind in the past few days.
"Heeeey, Jules," he rasped, baring his teeth in something that could have maybe, vaguely, passed for a smile from way down at Julia's vantage point.
The scream set his teeth on edge, and he slowly dragged himself up to peer over the edge of the ladder again, squinting through the smoke.
"Do you mind?" He asked, or rather croaked. His own screaming had blown his voice. "I'm having a moment up here-"
Oh. He couldn't quite say "speak of the devil," or anything like that, because he hadn't spoken about Julia in a hot minute, but he'd had a passing thought or two. He'd had more pressing things on his mind in the past few days.
"Heeeey, Jules," he rasped, baring his teeth in something that could have maybe, vaguely, passed for a smile from way down at Julia's vantage point.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
There weren't many voices, in the grand scheme of things, that could genuinely inflict a deep sense of fear when you heard them. Yet this one, his one, was one of those. Julia likened it to that of her father when she had been naughty growing up or her mother when she hadn't done the chores she said she would. Even her older sister Marina reacting to Julia sneaking into her room and applying her best MAC lip gloss. The tone of voice, a sharp, stinging bellow of your name.
Julia?
No... JuliAH.
The slight accentuation on the a in her name only meant one thing. Hearing her mother shriek her name in that tone was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It didn't happen very regularly because Julia - for the most part - was a good girl. Good manners, well-behaved, not really any cause for parental concern.
And yet, Jules. She had never been called that before.
Jules.
She despised it. Almost as much as she despised the person whose voice was painstakingly unforgettable. The twang on his pronunciation, delivered with equal measures of excitement and disdain. It was as loathsome as the speaker himself.
It had never been a guarantee that the two would have their moment to reunite, the last time she'd laid eyes on him he was smothered by slushy ice cream and she was sprinting from the infirmary with Timothy's hand locked in her grip. They left him in their dust, bullets flaying through the air, slicing at her optimism and ultimately stealing Timothy's life. She barely made it out of that room unscathed, in fact it was outrightly miraculous that she hadn't been wounded superficially or mortally by his callous shooting. Those memories of distress, panic, submission... they all came flashing back like a whirlwind made of sharpened knives.
Snap back to reality, the reminder that a boy had just fallen from the bell tower of the church right in front of her. There was a metre, perhaps two or three, between her being squashed on the church floor like the motionless corpse was and her still being in one piece. You don't go through life looking up, it's just not something you'd expect to ever have to do, and yet in this instance the body of her classmate fell down from the heavens like an asteroid coming to destroy her planet. But this wasn't the end of the dinosaurs, the extinction event wasn't a result of the comet cratering on the cold floor, it was the monster that awaited at the top of the ladder. Staring down at her, unsurprisingly heartless in his words choking the aftermath of his actions.
Words were lost on her, she didn't know what to say or even what to do. The blood in her fingertips curdled as her nails scraped deeper into the concrete floor, abrasive lacerations forming in her nails as she desperately grasped at the nothing beneath her.
"S... S... Salem!?"
Her exasperation and shock was ever-present in those words as she retched each syllable out.
"W-what h-have you d-done?"
Her eyes relayed from the body lying down, being cradled by the concrete tiles, narrowly avoiding being mangled amongst the front row of pews, up to the demon above. She wanted to run, to sprint like she had done all those days ago before Salem had launched his killing spree, but it was futile. Her fears petrified her form to stone like she was staring at Medusa.
Julia?
No... JuliAH.
The slight accentuation on the a in her name only meant one thing. Hearing her mother shriek her name in that tone was enough to send a shiver down her spine. It didn't happen very regularly because Julia - for the most part - was a good girl. Good manners, well-behaved, not really any cause for parental concern.
And yet, Jules. She had never been called that before.
Jules.
She despised it. Almost as much as she despised the person whose voice was painstakingly unforgettable. The twang on his pronunciation, delivered with equal measures of excitement and disdain. It was as loathsome as the speaker himself.
It had never been a guarantee that the two would have their moment to reunite, the last time she'd laid eyes on him he was smothered by slushy ice cream and she was sprinting from the infirmary with Timothy's hand locked in her grip. They left him in their dust, bullets flaying through the air, slicing at her optimism and ultimately stealing Timothy's life. She barely made it out of that room unscathed, in fact it was outrightly miraculous that she hadn't been wounded superficially or mortally by his callous shooting. Those memories of distress, panic, submission... they all came flashing back like a whirlwind made of sharpened knives.
Snap back to reality, the reminder that a boy had just fallen from the bell tower of the church right in front of her. There was a metre, perhaps two or three, between her being squashed on the church floor like the motionless corpse was and her still being in one piece. You don't go through life looking up, it's just not something you'd expect to ever have to do, and yet in this instance the body of her classmate fell down from the heavens like an asteroid coming to destroy her planet. But this wasn't the end of the dinosaurs, the extinction event wasn't a result of the comet cratering on the cold floor, it was the monster that awaited at the top of the ladder. Staring down at her, unsurprisingly heartless in his words choking the aftermath of his actions.
Words were lost on her, she didn't know what to say or even what to do. The blood in her fingertips curdled as her nails scraped deeper into the concrete floor, abrasive lacerations forming in her nails as she desperately grasped at the nothing beneath her.
"S... S... Salem!?"
Her exasperation and shock was ever-present in those words as she retched each syllable out.
"W-what h-have you d-done?"
Her eyes relayed from the body lying down, being cradled by the concrete tiles, narrowly avoiding being mangled amongst the front row of pews, up to the demon above. She wanted to run, to sprint like she had done all those days ago before Salem had launched his killing spree, but it was futile. Her fears petrified her form to stone like she was staring at Medusa.
Salem's head lolled to the side; it was a familiar movement, but his skull felt heavy. His chest ached in time with his heartbeat, still only gradually slowing from where it had spiked in the near-fall.
"That feels like a trick question," he said after a moment. "Made a mess, I guess. Not my finest work. But he started it, you know."
Salem folded his arms on the wooden beam and slumped down on it, studying Julia as she scrambled on the floor. His hand was still bleeding, and it left a dark red smear on the sleeve of his coat. It stung, but Julia looked liable to jump to her feet and run for it as soon as he took his eyes off of her, so he was just going to put a pin in that and get to it in a minute.
"If you really want to know, we dated for a while and it didn't end so well, so call it giving myself closure. But enough about me. What have you been up to, Jules?"
He bared his teeth a little more. "Why'd you kill poor old Coleslaw?"
(He knew how Przemyslaw's name was pronounced; he just didn't care, and it wasn't like the guy was around to hear him mangle it.)
"That feels like a trick question," he said after a moment. "Made a mess, I guess. Not my finest work. But he started it, you know."
Salem folded his arms on the wooden beam and slumped down on it, studying Julia as she scrambled on the floor. His hand was still bleeding, and it left a dark red smear on the sleeve of his coat. It stung, but Julia looked liable to jump to her feet and run for it as soon as he took his eyes off of her, so he was just going to put a pin in that and get to it in a minute.
"If you really want to know, we dated for a while and it didn't end so well, so call it giving myself closure. But enough about me. What have you been up to, Jules?"
He bared his teeth a little more. "Why'd you kill poor old Coleslaw?"
(He knew how Przemyslaw's name was pronounced; he just didn't care, and it wasn't like the guy was around to hear him mangle it.)
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
It was absolutely incarcerating being in the presence of Salem.
Fox? More like Salem the snake.
Julia found herself left dumbfounded by the level of unserious that Salem portrayed. The spit in his throat hissing with a contradictory delight despite the fact he had just watched, or more likely pushed, his ex-boyfriend to his death. It was enough to make her want to gag, the rising bile leaving a sweeter taste in her mouth than the bitterness Salem sputtered. His words fell from his lips like disjointed comic sans font.
On one hand she was impressed by how far removed he was from reality, it was really the only excuse she could think. His mental state had clearly deteriorated under the strain and pressure that this game had inflicted. No sane, rational thinker would have these callous thoughts in the face of death. Even a sociopath would surely struggle to cope in the immediate aftermath of a gruesome death, never mind when you actually had a fully-fledged relationship with the deceased! On the other hand, Julia's hairs stood up on end as the aura Salem radiated chilled her to the very bone. For obvious reasons.
She paused before saying anything, wanting nothing more than to vomit at the putrid lack of human emotion that Salem the snake was showing. She gazed down at the dead body, the light tremors, perhaps involuntary, that he twitched upon landing were long gone. The empty stare he was giving back, the slow oozing of blood pools dripping seductively into every crevice, filling every bump simultaneously. She looked back up at him.
Fear brimmed to the surface, saturating through every erect hair on her body.
But instead of bolting, instead of running away from her fears... this time she was ready to confront it.
The warmth of the hug and the kindness that Lily had shown her earlier that afternoon still resonated, a bright flickering flame burning inside. The chain reaction of Lily's wisdom was a stone-skin resilience emboldening her every move. Of course, that wasn't to say that Julia wasn't still terrified by Salem and his sadistic nature, but something inside her told her to fight back. Not to spin on her heels and run through the front door of the church, to stand and fight. Even if fighting was just with words, a simple conversation.
It was a weird emotion. Probably the first time that she really felt ready to die. She had already come to terms with the fact she wasn't going to make it out of here, and the heart-to-heart with Lily had fortified what remained of her courage. She wanted to go out on her own terms, and this was that opportunity. Maybe it would backfire, maybe finally finding her strength would only result in her swift demise. But it was worth the risk.
Lily had reiterated that important message to her. Even if Katelyn Graves was this big hulking monster in her actions, inside she was just as scared and fragile as the rest of us. Just as much of a victim. Killing didn't invalidate that victim status, even if it was easy to betray that victimhood with your cast aspersions. Maybe Salem was the same. Maybe she could...
Maybe she could save him.
And then... the toxicity ringing from his lips spat right down at her. He questioned her mockingly, dehumanizing Przemek to nothing more than coleslaw. Raw cabbage. His jagged tone blighted her, but she wanted to stand firm.
"His name..."
Every inch of her body wanted to be confident in this moment. To look the monster in the eye and not buckle from his petrification. This time she didn't want to turn to stone.
"His name was Przemyslaw."
Her words felt defiant in the face of his insolence. She didn't mind if he wanted to mock her, but she drew the line at him defacing the memory of Przemek.
"He... he had emotions... dreams... f-fears," her lip curled as she resisted his dominance and pushed back on her naturally submissive state, "Just like y-you. Just like me. H-he... he was d-dying."
The deafening accusations of her cowardice still stung. They cut deeply, partly because it was true, and the other part because she did what she had to do. It wasn't because she wanted to do it, but it was essential. She deserved the credit for that. Just like a doctor who had to relieve the pain of their dying patient. It wasn't cowardly to comply.
"What about Billie? What about Colm? What about Timothy?"
A slight bite of her cracked bottom lip. "W-what.... what did you d-do?"
Fox? More like Salem the snake.
Julia found herself left dumbfounded by the level of unserious that Salem portrayed. The spit in his throat hissing with a contradictory delight despite the fact he had just watched, or more likely pushed, his ex-boyfriend to his death. It was enough to make her want to gag, the rising bile leaving a sweeter taste in her mouth than the bitterness Salem sputtered. His words fell from his lips like disjointed comic sans font.
On one hand she was impressed by how far removed he was from reality, it was really the only excuse she could think. His mental state had clearly deteriorated under the strain and pressure that this game had inflicted. No sane, rational thinker would have these callous thoughts in the face of death. Even a sociopath would surely struggle to cope in the immediate aftermath of a gruesome death, never mind when you actually had a fully-fledged relationship with the deceased! On the other hand, Julia's hairs stood up on end as the aura Salem radiated chilled her to the very bone. For obvious reasons.
She paused before saying anything, wanting nothing more than to vomit at the putrid lack of human emotion that Salem the snake was showing. She gazed down at the dead body, the light tremors, perhaps involuntary, that he twitched upon landing were long gone. The empty stare he was giving back, the slow oozing of blood pools dripping seductively into every crevice, filling every bump simultaneously. She looked back up at him.
Fear brimmed to the surface, saturating through every erect hair on her body.
But instead of bolting, instead of running away from her fears... this time she was ready to confront it.
The warmth of the hug and the kindness that Lily had shown her earlier that afternoon still resonated, a bright flickering flame burning inside. The chain reaction of Lily's wisdom was a stone-skin resilience emboldening her every move. Of course, that wasn't to say that Julia wasn't still terrified by Salem and his sadistic nature, but something inside her told her to fight back. Not to spin on her heels and run through the front door of the church, to stand and fight. Even if fighting was just with words, a simple conversation.
It was a weird emotion. Probably the first time that she really felt ready to die. She had already come to terms with the fact she wasn't going to make it out of here, and the heart-to-heart with Lily had fortified what remained of her courage. She wanted to go out on her own terms, and this was that opportunity. Maybe it would backfire, maybe finally finding her strength would only result in her swift demise. But it was worth the risk.
Lily had reiterated that important message to her. Even if Katelyn Graves was this big hulking monster in her actions, inside she was just as scared and fragile as the rest of us. Just as much of a victim. Killing didn't invalidate that victim status, even if it was easy to betray that victimhood with your cast aspersions. Maybe Salem was the same. Maybe she could...
Maybe she could save him.
And then... the toxicity ringing from his lips spat right down at her. He questioned her mockingly, dehumanizing Przemek to nothing more than coleslaw. Raw cabbage. His jagged tone blighted her, but she wanted to stand firm.
"His name..."
Every inch of her body wanted to be confident in this moment. To look the monster in the eye and not buckle from his petrification. This time she didn't want to turn to stone.
"His name was Przemyslaw."
Her words felt defiant in the face of his insolence. She didn't mind if he wanted to mock her, but she drew the line at him defacing the memory of Przemek.
"He... he had emotions... dreams... f-fears," her lip curled as she resisted his dominance and pushed back on her naturally submissive state, "Just like y-you. Just like me. H-he... he was d-dying."
The deafening accusations of her cowardice still stung. They cut deeply, partly because it was true, and the other part because she did what she had to do. It wasn't because she wanted to do it, but it was essential. She deserved the credit for that. Just like a doctor who had to relieve the pain of their dying patient. It wasn't cowardly to comply.
"What about Billie? What about Colm? What about Timothy?"
A slight bite of her cracked bottom lip. "W-what.... what did you d-do?"
Salem's would-be smile faded as Julia talked. It was reminiscent of the things Colm had said to him, an extra touch of irony since Julia mentioned his name. He momentarily toyed with the idea of reminding Julia that the guy who Colm had dropped a dresser on was rotting in the cellar of the building they were currently occupying, but that was getting a bit pedantic even for him.
"Everyone dies at some point, right?" He said after a beat of silence. Dodging the question again, and extra aware of it, since Julia had so kindly invoked Colm's ghost. Salem flexed his fingers and pressed his slashed palm more firmly down into his sleeve; the fabric soaked up his blood, just like the open wound was probably soaking up the dirt and grime he'd collected over the days. Imagine making it to the end and then keeling over from blood poisoning. More or less embarrassing than catching pneumonia out of recklessness? Jury was still out.
"If you're dead at the end of the story, you're dead at the beginning. Przemek was dying, so you killed him a little faster. Same with everyone else, right?"
Salem's words rang hollow to his own ears. You're such a child.
He looked at Julia, and looked through her.
"I wasn't trying to kill Timothy," he said, feeling as though someone else was speaking for him. "It was supposed to be you."
"Everyone dies at some point, right?" He said after a beat of silence. Dodging the question again, and extra aware of it, since Julia had so kindly invoked Colm's ghost. Salem flexed his fingers and pressed his slashed palm more firmly down into his sleeve; the fabric soaked up his blood, just like the open wound was probably soaking up the dirt and grime he'd collected over the days. Imagine making it to the end and then keeling over from blood poisoning. More or less embarrassing than catching pneumonia out of recklessness? Jury was still out.
"If you're dead at the end of the story, you're dead at the beginning. Przemek was dying, so you killed him a little faster. Same with everyone else, right?"
Salem's words rang hollow to his own ears. You're such a child.
He looked at Julia, and looked through her.
"I wasn't trying to kill Timothy," he said, feeling as though someone else was speaking for him. "It was supposed to be you."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Her head was spinning. What was even happening?
---------------------------------------
Hold your tongue.
Soak his words in.
Be smart.
Don't retaliate.
Don't give him what he wants.
You can do this.
---------------------------------------
Julia bit her tongue as she absorbed his words. Immediately she saw the flaws in his philosophy and wanted nothing more to correct him, but the confusion, shock, dismay all added up and stopped her from speaking without thinking. Instead, she shrugged it off. Her response needed to be concise, it was important to get the right message across because who knows how much longer she had before their encounter turned hostile. Well, more hostile and tense than it already felt.
She shook her head belligerently in the face of his concepts, in disagreement with this philosophical bullshit about pre-decided stories based on endings.
“No. You’re w-wrong,” Julia readied herself to challenge Salem without taking a bullet to the brain. “What if we weren’t dead at the end of our story? Things aren’t binary. They aren’t set in s-stone. Who said that we had to die? Why did you believe that… i-instead of killing, instead of the b-bloodshed. We could’ve worked together. All of us. To find a way out, find a solution. People didn’t need to die for that. Why didn’t you give them a chance?”
She gasped for breath, her frantic statement draining every last drop of oxygen in her lungs, “What if there is another way?”
“Przemek was dying. Bleeding out.” Julia frowned as she looked away from Salem and back at the ground beneath her. “H-he was screaming… in agony. I did what anybody would do, anybody with c-compassion.”
It probably wasn’t worthwhile diving deeper into Przemek’s backstory. Salem didn’t necessarily need to know why Przemek was on the floor bleeding out, or what part – accidental or not – Julia had played in luring and trapping him in Joshua’s vice.
The venomous, yet scarily blasé at the same time, last words of Salem punctured her chest like a nail drilled into a wall. For a second it took the remaining breath from her lungs. A malicious dance all over that breath, stomping it out like Jeff Probst snuffing out the torch of an islander in Survivor. It felt insane, yet from his delivery it was clear that his words were intentional. He hadn’t misspoken, he meant exactly what he was saying.
Julia grasped at the imaginary straws, trying desperately to work out a solution. Basic addition wasn’t working, one plus one was equalling thirty-six. Her calculations were wrong, misguided. She struggled to find her footing as she pulled herself up from the ground.
“M-me?” The flavour of shock in her voice was as palpable as the quickening heartbeat bursting in her chest. Timothy’s memory, his kind yet rebellious face innocently looking up at her whilst she bandaged his wounds, galloped through her mind as her cheeks flushed amidst her fluster. Was he blaming her for his death?
“W-what… w-why… what did I…” Julia struggled to speak, rattled by his jaggedness. “What did I ever do to you?”
She dived into her memory bank, trying to flicker through every limited encounter she’d ever had with Salem. The occasional fleeting moment of greeting at a party, when he wasn’t too busy with somebody else for her, the reciprocated smiles in the school corridor. Everything rallied at once, yet she couldn’t think of any time where she would have done anything to offend him or make him want to specifically target her.
Clenching her knuckle, Julia was consumed by grief and anger, “W-what was so special about m-me? H-how… Why was I your t-target?”
---------------------------------------
Hold your tongue.
Soak his words in.
Be smart.
Don't retaliate.
Don't give him what he wants.
You can do this.
---------------------------------------
Julia bit her tongue as she absorbed his words. Immediately she saw the flaws in his philosophy and wanted nothing more to correct him, but the confusion, shock, dismay all added up and stopped her from speaking without thinking. Instead, she shrugged it off. Her response needed to be concise, it was important to get the right message across because who knows how much longer she had before their encounter turned hostile. Well, more hostile and tense than it already felt.
She shook her head belligerently in the face of his concepts, in disagreement with this philosophical bullshit about pre-decided stories based on endings.
“No. You’re w-wrong,” Julia readied herself to challenge Salem without taking a bullet to the brain. “What if we weren’t dead at the end of our story? Things aren’t binary. They aren’t set in s-stone. Who said that we had to die? Why did you believe that… i-instead of killing, instead of the b-bloodshed. We could’ve worked together. All of us. To find a way out, find a solution. People didn’t need to die for that. Why didn’t you give them a chance?”
She gasped for breath, her frantic statement draining every last drop of oxygen in her lungs, “What if there is another way?”
“Przemek was dying. Bleeding out.” Julia frowned as she looked away from Salem and back at the ground beneath her. “H-he was screaming… in agony. I did what anybody would do, anybody with c-compassion.”
It probably wasn’t worthwhile diving deeper into Przemek’s backstory. Salem didn’t necessarily need to know why Przemek was on the floor bleeding out, or what part – accidental or not – Julia had played in luring and trapping him in Joshua’s vice.
The venomous, yet scarily blasé at the same time, last words of Salem punctured her chest like a nail drilled into a wall. For a second it took the remaining breath from her lungs. A malicious dance all over that breath, stomping it out like Jeff Probst snuffing out the torch of an islander in Survivor. It felt insane, yet from his delivery it was clear that his words were intentional. He hadn’t misspoken, he meant exactly what he was saying.
Julia grasped at the imaginary straws, trying desperately to work out a solution. Basic addition wasn’t working, one plus one was equalling thirty-six. Her calculations were wrong, misguided. She struggled to find her footing as she pulled herself up from the ground.
“M-me?” The flavour of shock in her voice was as palpable as the quickening heartbeat bursting in her chest. Timothy’s memory, his kind yet rebellious face innocently looking up at her whilst she bandaged his wounds, galloped through her mind as her cheeks flushed amidst her fluster. Was he blaming her for his death?
“W-what… w-why… what did I…” Julia struggled to speak, rattled by his jaggedness. “What did I ever do to you?”
She dived into her memory bank, trying to flicker through every limited encounter she’d ever had with Salem. The occasional fleeting moment of greeting at a party, when he wasn’t too busy with somebody else for her, the reciprocated smiles in the school corridor. Everything rallied at once, yet she couldn’t think of any time where she would have done anything to offend him or make him want to specifically target her.
Clenching her knuckle, Julia was consumed by grief and anger, “W-what was so special about m-me? H-how… Why was I your t-target?”
"You never did anything to anybody, as far as I know. That was the point." Salem slowly sat up from where he'd perched on the beam; his spine was starting to ache too now, maybe in response to the impact on his front. Sitting up took away his perfect view of Julia, but they were engaged in conversation now, so it didn't seem like she was just going to bolt.
So where was he going with this?
"I wasn't hunting for you, specifically," he said, raising his raspy voice a little to be heard. He grabbed his bag and slid it towards him to retrieve the first-aid kit and make another attempt at bandaging his hand. The remnants of the food inside caught his attention again, and he gave them momentary consideration before refocusing. "Just anyone like you, and I found you first."
Salem pulled another alcohol wipe out of the package and almost viciously pressed it against the torn flesh of his palm, hissing loudly at the sting. "It had to be somebody nobody could make excuses for. No self-defense. No 'they made me do it'. Everyone needed to know I wasn't fucking around." Even if all he'd done was fuck around, in the end.
He had a momentary mental image of biting down on his own hand, tearing the wound open further with his teeth. Blinked, and it was gone. He'd inhaled too much smoke, probably.
"Do you actually believe everyone, or even like a significant amount of people in our class, could have worked together? You think they'd have risked it all for each other, for a chance that might not even be theirs? I don't believe that." And that was true, or as close to truthful as Salem could be.
His heart wasn't racing again, but it thudded heavily in his chest. It felt like he was climbing that mountain again.
"You're telling me this, and you still killed two people. And you're making the same excuses. Ohhhh I had to." Like Kitty, in a way.
Tell yourself you're backed into a corner enough times, and you'll start to believe it. Tell yourself people are good, and they'll hurt you when that turns out to be a lie. Salem wasn't having it. He was fucking bulletproof.
It would have been a nicer sentiment if he didn't feel like he'd been hit by a truck.
"I was tired of playing nice," he said, voice dropping. The acoustics of the tower still carried it down enough to be heard, distorted and gravelly. "Aren't you tired of playing nice, Jules? Don't you just wanna go apeshit? Look where being a good girl got you."
"Who's gonna love you now, Julia?"
So where was he going with this?
"I wasn't hunting for you, specifically," he said, raising his raspy voice a little to be heard. He grabbed his bag and slid it towards him to retrieve the first-aid kit and make another attempt at bandaging his hand. The remnants of the food inside caught his attention again, and he gave them momentary consideration before refocusing. "Just anyone like you, and I found you first."
Salem pulled another alcohol wipe out of the package and almost viciously pressed it against the torn flesh of his palm, hissing loudly at the sting. "It had to be somebody nobody could make excuses for. No self-defense. No 'they made me do it'. Everyone needed to know I wasn't fucking around." Even if all he'd done was fuck around, in the end.
He had a momentary mental image of biting down on his own hand, tearing the wound open further with his teeth. Blinked, and it was gone. He'd inhaled too much smoke, probably.
"Do you actually believe everyone, or even like a significant amount of people in our class, could have worked together? You think they'd have risked it all for each other, for a chance that might not even be theirs? I don't believe that." And that was true, or as close to truthful as Salem could be.
His heart wasn't racing again, but it thudded heavily in his chest. It felt like he was climbing that mountain again.
"You're telling me this, and you still killed two people. And you're making the same excuses. Ohhhh I had to." Like Kitty, in a way.
Tell yourself you're backed into a corner enough times, and you'll start to believe it. Tell yourself people are good, and they'll hurt you when that turns out to be a lie. Salem wasn't having it. He was fucking bulletproof.
It would have been a nicer sentiment if he didn't feel like he'd been hit by a truck.
"I was tired of playing nice," he said, voice dropping. The acoustics of the tower still carried it down enough to be heard, distorted and gravelly. "Aren't you tired of playing nice, Jules? Don't you just wanna go apeshit? Look where being a good girl got you."
"Who's gonna love you now, Julia?"
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Julia bit her lip out of relief that despite his crabbiness, she hadn't actually done anything to upset him. The truth, on the other hand, unfortunately seemed to be even worse than that. The perfect victim, hey? Salem had somehow managed to outdo himself even after days spent wittering sadistic madness. She sighed gently, clinging onto the hope that Lily had instilled in her, that resurgence that came with little judgement over past actions. That ability to forgive, to move on, to forget. To cast aside the sin, bury it in forgiveness and offer the sinner a shot at redemption.
Salem was unfortunately right. She'd done some unthinkable things, just like many of the others, in her time in the past week. Things she would regret until the very end; letting go of Timothy's hand, handling the Karin Han situation the way she did, not finding and rescuing Karen from Victor's tight grip, shooting Victor and thinking everything would be better. The recurrence of absolutely nothing being better was persistently biting at her gut. Even the complex back and forth she felt around Joshua was weighing her down.
It had all been like some strange religious pilgrimage, the last 48 hours fused insanity with sanity, with purity and complexity. To eventually reach resolve. Like an alluring epiphany that helped her to see the light at the end of that very long, very dark tunnel.
He probably didn't expect her to retaliate. Everything he uttered emitted an underhand, tactical riposte intending to silence. And sure, it was working to an extent. Tears were bubbling under like molten magma in the crust, readying themselves for eruption.
But she wouldn't let herself be beaten.
Not by Salem Fox of all people.
"No..."
Her voice croaked, ripples in space as she clenched her jaw.
"Y-you're wrong."
Julia grinned the smallest of smirks, a heroic moment of defiance in the icy grip of defeat.
"Finché c’è vita, c’è speranza."
He wouldn't have understood what she was saying, but that didn't matter to her. Speaking her family tongue smothered her in reassurance, in belligerence. Her words, translated literally to as long as there's life, there's hope, were a common saying in her heartland. Something like the Italian version of you only live once, just a hell of a lot less cringeworthy. A new energy pulsated through her as she pushed back on Salem's accusations, his toxicity. Her stutter was replaced by newfound confidence.
"I've made mistakes here. Things I regret. I would change what happened to Victor a thousand times over if I could. Przemek too. I won't make the excuses you want me to make. I'm guilty. I will take ownership over that. I have to. Maybe doing those things, making those mistakes. Maybe that makes me a bad person like you think."
She paused slightly to fight off the ripples of doubt in her brain, "But I believe that yes, people want to work together. Every act of evil on this island has been countered by countless acts of kindness that I've seen with my very own eyes. I don't want to change anything about that. I'll keep playing nice, or whatever you call it, normal. Because that's who I am. I thought these past few days about how much I hated you for what you did. But now, seeing you here in the flesh once more. I don't feel that hatred towards you. If anything, I feel sorry for you. What you ask of me... I can tell you that looking back at you, people still love you. I promise that. For every person sad or angry at you for what you've done, there are so many more that wish they could tell you it would be okay. Give you a hug and forgive you with open arms. It's not too late to stop."
Salem had hidden himself partly out of view, but the laser focus of her eyes still managed to lock horns with his haphazardly.
"If somebody does something bad when their back is up against a wall, does it make them any less of a good person?" Julia was pretty sure that by this point she had stopped blinking, but she was being dragged through a hedge by her nerves so needed to spit out what she wanted to say before she fell back into the lull of earlier. "We're all victims. All of us. Everybody on this island. Kitty, Karin, Jezzie... even you."
Julia tensed her eye sockets as her stare stalked Salem, "Maybe you're the biggest victim of us all. That you feel you need to do this, act tough, pretend like none of it bothers you. It sounds like you're carrying the weight of the world."
A light gulp, her stomach acid dancing in response to her feigned confidence.
"So, who's going to love me, you ask?"
One last gulp.
"Maybe I'm wrong. I know I've let people down, disappointed everybody. But your love for somebody doesn't stop when you are disappointed by them. I hope the people I've let down can forgive me. Forgive me for my weaknesses, for my mistakes. I hope they still love me. No... I believe they still love me. That's the only reason I'm still here, alive."
Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire.
(No matter where you turn or roam, you’ll always end up at home.)
Salem was unfortunately right. She'd done some unthinkable things, just like many of the others, in her time in the past week. Things she would regret until the very end; letting go of Timothy's hand, handling the Karin Han situation the way she did, not finding and rescuing Karen from Victor's tight grip, shooting Victor and thinking everything would be better. The recurrence of absolutely nothing being better was persistently biting at her gut. Even the complex back and forth she felt around Joshua was weighing her down.
It had all been like some strange religious pilgrimage, the last 48 hours fused insanity with sanity, with purity and complexity. To eventually reach resolve. Like an alluring epiphany that helped her to see the light at the end of that very long, very dark tunnel.
He probably didn't expect her to retaliate. Everything he uttered emitted an underhand, tactical riposte intending to silence. And sure, it was working to an extent. Tears were bubbling under like molten magma in the crust, readying themselves for eruption.
But she wouldn't let herself be beaten.
Not by Salem Fox of all people.
"No..."
Her voice croaked, ripples in space as she clenched her jaw.
"Y-you're wrong."
Julia grinned the smallest of smirks, a heroic moment of defiance in the icy grip of defeat.
"Finché c’è vita, c’è speranza."
He wouldn't have understood what she was saying, but that didn't matter to her. Speaking her family tongue smothered her in reassurance, in belligerence. Her words, translated literally to as long as there's life, there's hope, were a common saying in her heartland. Something like the Italian version of you only live once, just a hell of a lot less cringeworthy. A new energy pulsated through her as she pushed back on Salem's accusations, his toxicity. Her stutter was replaced by newfound confidence.
"I've made mistakes here. Things I regret. I would change what happened to Victor a thousand times over if I could. Przemek too. I won't make the excuses you want me to make. I'm guilty. I will take ownership over that. I have to. Maybe doing those things, making those mistakes. Maybe that makes me a bad person like you think."
She paused slightly to fight off the ripples of doubt in her brain, "But I believe that yes, people want to work together. Every act of evil on this island has been countered by countless acts of kindness that I've seen with my very own eyes. I don't want to change anything about that. I'll keep playing nice, or whatever you call it, normal. Because that's who I am. I thought these past few days about how much I hated you for what you did. But now, seeing you here in the flesh once more. I don't feel that hatred towards you. If anything, I feel sorry for you. What you ask of me... I can tell you that looking back at you, people still love you. I promise that. For every person sad or angry at you for what you've done, there are so many more that wish they could tell you it would be okay. Give you a hug and forgive you with open arms. It's not too late to stop."
Salem had hidden himself partly out of view, but the laser focus of her eyes still managed to lock horns with his haphazardly.
"If somebody does something bad when their back is up against a wall, does it make them any less of a good person?" Julia was pretty sure that by this point she had stopped blinking, but she was being dragged through a hedge by her nerves so needed to spit out what she wanted to say before she fell back into the lull of earlier. "We're all victims. All of us. Everybody on this island. Kitty, Karin, Jezzie... even you."
Julia tensed her eye sockets as her stare stalked Salem, "Maybe you're the biggest victim of us all. That you feel you need to do this, act tough, pretend like none of it bothers you. It sounds like you're carrying the weight of the world."
A light gulp, her stomach acid dancing in response to her feigned confidence.
"So, who's going to love me, you ask?"
One last gulp.
"Maybe I'm wrong. I know I've let people down, disappointed everybody. But your love for somebody doesn't stop when you are disappointed by them. I hope the people I've let down can forgive me. Forgive me for my weaknesses, for my mistakes. I hope they still love me. No... I believe they still love me. That's the only reason I'm still here, alive."
Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire.
(No matter where you turn or roam, you’ll always end up at home.)
Jesus Christ. If Julia had given him this kind of lip back when they'd first run into each other, Salem wouldn't have had any bullets left for Billie.
Adam's last words had been to scream that he hated Salem, and now Julia was stood down there preaching about love. He wanted to spin that into some comment about how it was fitting, given that they were in a church, but his head felt full of fuzz.
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want you anymore. What then?" Salem spat his petty response down and began haphazardly wrapping a bandage around his hand, pulling it extra tight.
He could kill her as easily as he breathed. That had shut Colm up, and it would shut her up too. He hadn't even thought about Colm in days, and Julia had to come in here and dredge him up, like he'd meant anything. What was he now? Rotting meat, just like Adam and Billie, just like Greg and Jessica, and just like Timothy.
Imagining it didn't make him feel any satisfaction. It didn't make him feel anything except a sinking in the pit of his chest, right underneath the throbbing ache. He didn't want her, realized, and pulled the bandage tighter until the elastic creaked.
With that done, he dropped his hands into his lap and just sat for a moment, making himself breathe, before he forced his way back to his feet. It took more effort than it should have to swing his bag over his shoulder; he still felt winded. That landing had done a number on him, even if he hadn't gotten it as bad as Adam.
"Hold that thought, Jules. I'll be right down." Without waiting for a response, he heaved himself onto the ladder and began the laborious descent back to earth.
He paused after just a couple of steps and looked down at Julia through the space under his arm with an exhausted grin. "Do me a favor and don't shoot until I'm on the ground."
He'd look her in the eyes at an equal level. Then he'd decide.
Adam's last words had been to scream that he hated Salem, and now Julia was stood down there preaching about love. He wanted to spin that into some comment about how it was fitting, given that they were in a church, but his head felt full of fuzz.
"Yeah, well, maybe I don't want you anymore. What then?" Salem spat his petty response down and began haphazardly wrapping a bandage around his hand, pulling it extra tight.
He could kill her as easily as he breathed. That had shut Colm up, and it would shut her up too. He hadn't even thought about Colm in days, and Julia had to come in here and dredge him up, like he'd meant anything. What was he now? Rotting meat, just like Adam and Billie, just like Greg and Jessica, and just like Timothy.
Imagining it didn't make him feel any satisfaction. It didn't make him feel anything except a sinking in the pit of his chest, right underneath the throbbing ache. He didn't want her, realized, and pulled the bandage tighter until the elastic creaked.
With that done, he dropped his hands into his lap and just sat for a moment, making himself breathe, before he forced his way back to his feet. It took more effort than it should have to swing his bag over his shoulder; he still felt winded. That landing had done a number on him, even if he hadn't gotten it as bad as Adam.
"Hold that thought, Jules. I'll be right down." Without waiting for a response, he heaved himself onto the ladder and began the laborious descent back to earth.
He paused after just a couple of steps and looked down at Julia through the space under his arm with an exhausted grin. "Do me a favor and don't shoot until I'm on the ground."
He'd look her in the eyes at an equal level. Then he'd decide.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Her momentary lapse of bravery quickly subsided as Salem descended the ladder, his outline growing bigger and bigger as he approached. He looked a little more worse for wear than when they had first met, but Julia figured that wasn't too surprising given all of the antics he had been up to. His deflected response and decision to climb down suggested one of two things. Either ranting at him was a good idea and her lecture was getting through to him, making him think about things deeper and hopefully make him not want to blow her brains out. However, the other option is that actually he simply just doesn't care. If she had been a gambling woman then she would probably have leaned towards the latter, disappointingly.
As she approached the ground, her clenched empty fist relaxed and grasped the barrel of her assault rifle. She didn't want to use it, the strength that Lily had imbued was built on a bed of pacifism. She didn't want to slip up again, it wouldn't make her feel any better about the situation.
Lumps in her throat tightened as he turned to look at her, dangerously close. Landing at the bottom of the ladder, he was merely metres away from her. Just stood the other side of the dead boy on the ground. Truth be told, it felt like her life was flashing before her eyes. An inconceivable sense of dread filled her veins whilst her heart plummeted into the very pit of her stomach. The rate of her heartbeat had also intensified, the thumping likely visible if you were close enough.
One last chance to make him see sense.
"Just t-think about it..." Julia's confidence trembled at the base of his looming mountain.
"It's not too l-late. You don't have to keep doing this... m-maybe there's another way."
Salem slowly approached her, a look of calculation in his eyes as they grotesquely stroked her own gaze.
"W-we don't need to be victims anymore. We can find a w-way out of this. Together."
Again no words returned, just the occasional flicker of nonchalance. She was very much talking to herself. The brick wall got closer and closer until it stood over here, like a guillotine ready to grant a death sentence.
"L-listen to me... S-Salem."
...
...
...
It would work. It had to work.
...
...
...
"Please!"
As she approached the ground, her clenched empty fist relaxed and grasped the barrel of her assault rifle. She didn't want to use it, the strength that Lily had imbued was built on a bed of pacifism. She didn't want to slip up again, it wouldn't make her feel any better about the situation.
Lumps in her throat tightened as he turned to look at her, dangerously close. Landing at the bottom of the ladder, he was merely metres away from her. Just stood the other side of the dead boy on the ground. Truth be told, it felt like her life was flashing before her eyes. An inconceivable sense of dread filled her veins whilst her heart plummeted into the very pit of her stomach. The rate of her heartbeat had also intensified, the thumping likely visible if you were close enough.
One last chance to make him see sense.
"Just t-think about it..." Julia's confidence trembled at the base of his looming mountain.
"It's not too l-late. You don't have to keep doing this... m-maybe there's another way."
Salem slowly approached her, a look of calculation in his eyes as they grotesquely stroked her own gaze.
"W-we don't need to be victims anymore. We can find a w-way out of this. Together."
Again no words returned, just the occasional flicker of nonchalance. She was very much talking to herself. The brick wall got closer and closer until it stood over here, like a guillotine ready to grant a death sentence.
"L-listen to me... S-Salem."
...
...
...
It would work. It had to work.
...
...
...
"Please!"