((Jenna Rhodes continued from Sunrise))
Jenna needed sleep.
Sleep was literally the only thing in the world she wanted right now. It would be the only thing that she could think about where it not for the dozen other horrible thoughts preventing her from having any rest. Thoughts like the dead body she and Jack had to drag downstairs in order to remove the horrible smell. Thoughts like the fact that everyone on the island now knew that she was a stone cold murderer. Thoughts like the look on Yukiko's face as the back of her head cracked against...
Nope, she had to push those thoughts away. Tuck them at the back of her mind. Sleep was all she wanted, and sleep was all that she needed.
She couldn't even remember how she and Jack had found themselves up here, hiding away in a radio tower overlooking an abandoned airstrip. She vaguely recalled the two of them silently wondering about for ages until eventually deciding to head toward the airstrip. She recalled dragging the body away and dumping it on the staircase leading down, most likely as a deterrent to stop anyone from heading up. Or would that be detrimental to their goals? Did she even have any goals anymore? She honestly had no clue as to what she wanted to do.
No wait, she did. Sleep. Yes, sleep was a fantastic idea. Sleep was exactly what she needed right now. She would rest up, and be up and ready in the morning to decide on their next course of action. Simple really.
At least, it would be were it not for a number of factors. Such as the cold. The hard metal floor. The stench of death. And all the lingering memories of the girl she had murdered just over a day ago.
It was the middle of the night, and Jenna Rhodes was still wide awake.
Senseless
((Jack McDonald continued from Sunrise))
Time was a weird concept.
At least, that was one of the thoughts Jack had been dwelling on the past couple days. He had always considered himself sort of scatter-brained, but the island only did more to highlight that. All the time spent wandering gave him the opportunity to come up with every single idea he could pull out of thin air. Like how time was a weird concept.
Anyways.
At some point they had found the tower and at some point the two had decided to set up camp and at some point the announcements had come on Yukiko hadn't been on there. Both of them were obviously shaken up, but there was still very little talk among them. Too much weight in the air.
That just led to more thinking, though. Like thinking about how Yukiko had still been breathing when they had left. Maybe she had just... taken a while. Something like that. Was his best guess, at least.
Now more time had passed and it was some ungodly hour in the night or the morning or whatever and Jack was still awake. Awake and pacing.
It was almost funny, in a dark kind of way. Back home, there were many times when Jack just wished everyone would shut up and give him some time to think. Now he was on a desert island and there was deafening silence and all the time in the world to think about whatever.
And he hated it.
Jack had never really thought he was the type to go insane. Heck, he still didn't really believe it was happening. Not yet. But that still didn't stop his subconscious from being an annoying prick making him consider things he didn't want to consider.
Every once in a while, he glanced over at Jenna, who appeared to be sleeping. That was nice. He almost envied her. Then he remembered that she had murdered multiple people and he felt a little less envious.
Hey, not like it was her fault. We went over this. Still... she's probably got a lot to deal with. More than me, at least.
He kept pacing. It was weird. The past couple of days had been the first time since the hotel where Jack hadn't been in a group. It was just a pair now. A pair that had gotten their hands unfortunately dirty.
Well, one of us has. I was there, though. Guilt by association or something.
... C'mon it wasn't her fault. Stop it.
Jack stopped. His legs felt stiffer. He didn't even know how long he had been pacing. Weird concept and all. He just stared out a nearby window into the night.
The next thing he knew, he had stumbled over to his bag and was in the process of unzipping it.
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of not helping. I'm tired of being in the backseat of everything because I THINK about being a bigshot hero more than I-
His hand hit something rough. Something he hadn't felt before.
Taking a deep, but quiet breath, Jack grasped the object, noting how dirty and rough his hands felt. He pulled it out, getting used to the weight.
Holding it up to the light, it appeared to be... a bunch of newspapers wrapped together. But there was something the newspapers were wrapped around. Jack was so incredibly tired at this point that it took an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what it was.
... A brick.
So that was that. He *had* been given something of some use by whoever was in charge of this twisted "game". That was... surprising. Almost humbling, in a weird way.
Someone else should have gotten this. What am I even going to do with it?
He looked over at Jenna.
Honestly, Jack couldn't tell how much of the anxiety he felt was from being around her. While he was doing his best to stay composed throughout this whole ordeal, he could constantly feel the cracks in Jenna's armor beginning to increase in size. It was almost painful just to watch. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, it didn't feel like things were going to get any better for her.
Jack stood up and walked over to her, holding the brick in the newspapers almost like it was a bag.
That's it. You just bring it down on her head and that'll... it'll...
He very nearly cried out loudly. Or maybe just cried. Maybe both.
Without even looking back down at her, Jack turned around and walked over to the other side of the room. He wanted to kick himself. He wanted to kick himself so hard that he'd be unable to move and that would just be the end of it. He, Jack McDonald, had just seriously considered murdering the only person on the island who was still with him, who was still looking out for him.
Nice guy? Yeah. Right. Go screw yourself.
At some point he had started shaking. Jack was unable to keep his grip on his "weapon" and it soon dropped to the ground with a soft clank. He didn't even care at this point. He honestly, with all his heart, did not care.
Jack simply sat down and looked out the window and sighed and let time pass as it had been doing.
Time was a weird concept.
At least, that was one of the thoughts Jack had been dwelling on the past couple days. He had always considered himself sort of scatter-brained, but the island only did more to highlight that. All the time spent wandering gave him the opportunity to come up with every single idea he could pull out of thin air. Like how time was a weird concept.
Anyways.
At some point they had found the tower and at some point the two had decided to set up camp and at some point the announcements had come on Yukiko hadn't been on there. Both of them were obviously shaken up, but there was still very little talk among them. Too much weight in the air.
That just led to more thinking, though. Like thinking about how Yukiko had still been breathing when they had left. Maybe she had just... taken a while. Something like that. Was his best guess, at least.
Now more time had passed and it was some ungodly hour in the night or the morning or whatever and Jack was still awake. Awake and pacing.
It was almost funny, in a dark kind of way. Back home, there were many times when Jack just wished everyone would shut up and give him some time to think. Now he was on a desert island and there was deafening silence and all the time in the world to think about whatever.
And he hated it.
Jack had never really thought he was the type to go insane. Heck, he still didn't really believe it was happening. Not yet. But that still didn't stop his subconscious from being an annoying prick making him consider things he didn't want to consider.
Every once in a while, he glanced over at Jenna, who appeared to be sleeping. That was nice. He almost envied her. Then he remembered that she had murdered multiple people and he felt a little less envious.
Hey, not like it was her fault. We went over this. Still... she's probably got a lot to deal with. More than me, at least.
He kept pacing. It was weird. The past couple of days had been the first time since the hotel where Jack hadn't been in a group. It was just a pair now. A pair that had gotten their hands unfortunately dirty.
Well, one of us has. I was there, though. Guilt by association or something.
... C'mon it wasn't her fault. Stop it.
Jack stopped. His legs felt stiffer. He didn't even know how long he had been pacing. Weird concept and all. He just stared out a nearby window into the night.
The next thing he knew, he had stumbled over to his bag and was in the process of unzipping it.
I'm tired of this. I'm tired of not helping. I'm tired of being in the backseat of everything because I THINK about being a bigshot hero more than I-
His hand hit something rough. Something he hadn't felt before.
Taking a deep, but quiet breath, Jack grasped the object, noting how dirty and rough his hands felt. He pulled it out, getting used to the weight.
Holding it up to the light, it appeared to be... a bunch of newspapers wrapped together. But there was something the newspapers were wrapped around. Jack was so incredibly tired at this point that it took an embarrassingly long time for him to figure out what it was.
... A brick.
So that was that. He *had* been given something of some use by whoever was in charge of this twisted "game". That was... surprising. Almost humbling, in a weird way.
Someone else should have gotten this. What am I even going to do with it?
He looked over at Jenna.
Honestly, Jack couldn't tell how much of the anxiety he felt was from being around her. While he was doing his best to stay composed throughout this whole ordeal, he could constantly feel the cracks in Jenna's armor beginning to increase in size. It was almost painful just to watch. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, it didn't feel like things were going to get any better for her.
Jack stood up and walked over to her, holding the brick in the newspapers almost like it was a bag.
That's it. You just bring it down on her head and that'll... it'll...
He very nearly cried out loudly. Or maybe just cried. Maybe both.
Without even looking back down at her, Jack turned around and walked over to the other side of the room. He wanted to kick himself. He wanted to kick himself so hard that he'd be unable to move and that would just be the end of it. He, Jack McDonald, had just seriously considered murdering the only person on the island who was still with him, who was still looking out for him.
Nice guy? Yeah. Right. Go screw yourself.
At some point he had started shaking. Jack was unable to keep his grip on his "weapon" and it soon dropped to the ground with a soft clank. He didn't even care at this point. He honestly, with all his heart, did not care.
Jack simply sat down and looked out the window and sighed and let time pass as it had been doing.
Jack thought Jenna was asleep. Assumed that she wouldn't hear him creeping up on her, or see his silhouette raise a brick above her head.
But she did. Jenna was wide awake, and she was well aware of how close she was to death. Her eyes were wide open when she saw his shadow coming closer, raising that brick high in the air before heading back to where he was previously sleeping. The only reason she didn't do anything about it was because she was so shocked by what she had seen in the first place.
Was he really going to... No, that can't be right. Her eyes must have been lying to her. He wasn't about to try and kill her in her sleep, was he? No, there had to be a rational explanation.
Then again, she knew what she saw. That was definitely some kind of heavy object he heaved above his head. Oh dear god, Jack just considered murdering her! Sure, he didn't actually go through with it, but the very thought that he even considered doing so was more than enough to shock her to her very core.
He was just another traitor, wasn't he? Had he been waiting all this time for a moment when he and her were alone so that he could take her down? Probably not, but the fact that he considered offing her was enough to make him her enemy. No true ally would even consider such an action.
She looked around the floor, her eyes eventually finding themselves looking at an old computer cable. It was long, thick and looked as though it was way bulkier than it needed to be. That said, it looked perfect for what she was about to do.
Without saying a word, Jenna silently got to her threat, carrying the wire with her as she sneaked towards Jack slumped down in the chair. She had to strike first, before he decided to go through with his intentions. She had to make sure that Jack couldn't potentially hurt anyone ever again. The fact that he considered murdering her was enough to prove that he could no longer be trusted, and given their situation this seemed to be the only sensible option.
Besides, she'd already bloodied her hands, hadn't she? What difference would one more name be?
On that note, she hooked the cable around Jack's neck and began strangling him to death.
But she did. Jenna was wide awake, and she was well aware of how close she was to death. Her eyes were wide open when she saw his shadow coming closer, raising that brick high in the air before heading back to where he was previously sleeping. The only reason she didn't do anything about it was because she was so shocked by what she had seen in the first place.
Was he really going to... No, that can't be right. Her eyes must have been lying to her. He wasn't about to try and kill her in her sleep, was he? No, there had to be a rational explanation.
Then again, she knew what she saw. That was definitely some kind of heavy object he heaved above his head. Oh dear god, Jack just considered murdering her! Sure, he didn't actually go through with it, but the very thought that he even considered doing so was more than enough to shock her to her very core.
He was just another traitor, wasn't he? Had he been waiting all this time for a moment when he and her were alone so that he could take her down? Probably not, but the fact that he considered offing her was enough to make him her enemy. No true ally would even consider such an action.
She looked around the floor, her eyes eventually finding themselves looking at an old computer cable. It was long, thick and looked as though it was way bulkier than it needed to be. That said, it looked perfect for what she was about to do.
Without saying a word, Jenna silently got to her threat, carrying the wire with her as she sneaked towards Jack slumped down in the chair. She had to strike first, before he decided to go through with his intentions. She had to make sure that Jack couldn't potentially hurt anyone ever again. The fact that he considered murdering her was enough to prove that he could no longer be trusted, and given their situation this seemed to be the only sensible option.
Besides, she'd already bloodied her hands, hadn't she? What difference would one more name be?
On that note, she hooked the cable around Jack's neck and began strangling him to death.
Throughout most of his life, Jack had wondered what dying felt like, and it was especially prominent throughout the past couple of days. One of those morbid thoughts that shuffles into your brain and is discarded just as quickly. Still, it was an interesting question. A "you have to experience it" sort of deal.
Turns out there weren't too many thoughts involved. The restriction of his air came incredibly quickly and unexpectedly, so he did the only thing he could do - go into panic mode.
He immediately started thrashing about, doing his best to try and tug at the cord around his neck while twisting around to see who his attacker was. Both tasks were harder than one might assume. The cord seemed to be held tight, and he didn't have the strength to combat it.
If Jack had been in a better state of mind, it would have been easy to figure out that Jenna had done it, gone and betrayed him as the only sure companion he had left on the island. Of course, the thoughts in his mind were completely drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart and the desperate sounds he was now making as he jerked his body even more wildly, swearing that he kicked something at some point. But none of that really mattered.
He was snapped somewhat into a state of more alertness at an intense gargling noise coming from his mouth, even more loud and intense than the other ones. He could feel the saliva building up, but he couldn't even spit it out, so he just had to let it either well up in his mouth or drip onto the floor. Neither was pleasant, but nothing about this was pleasant. He was dying.
He was dying.
Finally, a coherent thought managed to form in Jack's mind. This was it. No second chances. No more blind hope for escape. No more living day by day. He had always felt he had been too weak to survive in this game, and he was finally being proven right.
He would've loved to dwell more on this, but that ended up being the last coherent thought Jack McDonald would ever have.
Even more alarm bells were going off as his allowance of air continued depleting, making his writhing all the more desperate. It was almost like a fish previously hooked by a fishing rod - simply flopping around on the ground, trying its best to retain life and doing a piss-poor job of it. It was a pathetic sight.
If he had gotten the chance, Jack still wouldn't have been able to tell where his life ended and where death began. At some point, the pain in his chest built and got to a point where his body could take it no longer. His throat just got too tight, his brain lacking the energy, and things just... shut down.
The flailing stopped rather suddenly. Jack fell fully onto the ground, his face hitting the cold floor and causing a minor head wound. Not like that really mattered.
Jack McDonald died not a hero, not a villain, not a player or a rebel or a winner or a leader or anything like that. Jack simply died a person. He probably would've been alright with that.
Turns out there weren't too many thoughts involved. The restriction of his air came incredibly quickly and unexpectedly, so he did the only thing he could do - go into panic mode.
He immediately started thrashing about, doing his best to try and tug at the cord around his neck while twisting around to see who his attacker was. Both tasks were harder than one might assume. The cord seemed to be held tight, and he didn't have the strength to combat it.
If Jack had been in a better state of mind, it would have been easy to figure out that Jenna had done it, gone and betrayed him as the only sure companion he had left on the island. Of course, the thoughts in his mind were completely drowned out by the rapid beating of his heart and the desperate sounds he was now making as he jerked his body even more wildly, swearing that he kicked something at some point. But none of that really mattered.
He was snapped somewhat into a state of more alertness at an intense gargling noise coming from his mouth, even more loud and intense than the other ones. He could feel the saliva building up, but he couldn't even spit it out, so he just had to let it either well up in his mouth or drip onto the floor. Neither was pleasant, but nothing about this was pleasant. He was dying.
He was dying.
Finally, a coherent thought managed to form in Jack's mind. This was it. No second chances. No more blind hope for escape. No more living day by day. He had always felt he had been too weak to survive in this game, and he was finally being proven right.
He would've loved to dwell more on this, but that ended up being the last coherent thought Jack McDonald would ever have.
Even more alarm bells were going off as his allowance of air continued depleting, making his writhing all the more desperate. It was almost like a fish previously hooked by a fishing rod - simply flopping around on the ground, trying its best to retain life and doing a piss-poor job of it. It was a pathetic sight.
If he had gotten the chance, Jack still wouldn't have been able to tell where his life ended and where death began. At some point, the pain in his chest built and got to a point where his body could take it no longer. His throat just got too tight, his brain lacking the energy, and things just... shut down.
The flailing stopped rather suddenly. Jack fell fully onto the ground, his face hitting the cold floor and causing a minor head wound. Not like that really mattered.
Jack McDonald died not a hero, not a villain, not a player or a rebel or a winner or a leader or anything like that. Jack simply died a person. He probably would've been alright with that.
B013 - JACK MCDONALD - DECEASED
There, the deed was done. Jack was no longer a threat. She could finally rest easily now...
Or could she? No, she can't stay here anymore. Kind of unhygienic to sleep in a room with a corpse, right? He was already beginning to stink up the place.
Nope, she had to go. Find somewhere else to rest up. Maybe somewhere that wasn't surrounded by dead bodies this time. Of course, that would be kind of hard given how many days had passed since this whole thing began, but she could always dream right?
((Jenna Rhodes continued elsewhere...))
Or could she? No, she can't stay here anymore. Kind of unhygienic to sleep in a room with a corpse, right? He was already beginning to stink up the place.
Nope, she had to go. Find somewhere else to rest up. Maybe somewhere that wasn't surrounded by dead bodies this time. Of course, that would be kind of hard given how many days had passed since this whole thing began, but she could always dream right?
((Jenna Rhodes continued elsewhere...))