((Colin Falcone continued from Tunnel Vision.))
That one monumental step out of the darkness and into the light left the pair of boys in a clearing. To their right stood a large, church like building. And to the left, the water. The calming sound of the water lapping against the shores of this forsaken island sounded strangely soothing to the guilt addled boy. Hey, the ocean and the beach were supposed to wash all your troubles away. Right? The soothing song... Hey, he could have the beach campfire that he had always wanted.
Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.
And so Colin led Tim towards the sound of the water and the ocean. That soothing respite, where he hoped he could leave his guilt; at least for the moment. His gait was long and awkward as he made his way across the terrain. The beach was only a fifteen minute walk from the exit of the tunnel; however Colin really wouldn't have minded if it was halfway across the island. He just wanted to be as far away from that damn place as possible. With each breath, each step, more and more did the boy lose that composure that he struggled to retain, and more and more tears began to fall in mourning of Tony Russo. While he prayed that a good night's rest would relieve some of his pain, he knew better. And while he longed for those days, he was no longer a naive little boy. The events in the tunnel had clinched that.
---
The rest of that afternoon had been spent gathering firewood to build a small fire on the sand. And as dusk finally began to approach the eerily silent pair, the fire has just began to burn. A couple of matches that Colin has brought along for the sole purpose of 'just in case' on the class trip made themselves quite useful in this regard. And as the tinder and driftwood burned slowly, creating a warming reddish glow, the boy finally spoke for the first time in hours.
"D...Do you blame me for what happened?"
As if his mouth was the Hoover dam, allowing it to open finally let all of the emotion go that he had been holding back since meeting Tim at the mouth of the Cave. It started with a quiet sob. And then another. While his face was masked by the leaping flame and searing hot air between the pair, the noises couldn't be drowned out by the crackling of the fire. Heat radiating from the blaze baked the tears to Colin's cheeks before they ever had a chance to splash to their doom in the sand.
"I... I didn't want to do it. I really didn't." He sniffed in hard, trying to hold his facial features to at least some standard. "He... Was in so much pain... I... Am I a murderer?" His pained voice drowned out the crickets and other various animals on the island. And as much as he didn't want to put any of this with or on his only friend on the island, he couldn't physically stop himself. His chest hurt with each sob, his head hurt with each teardrop. And his heart hurt with the blazing intensity of the sun. At least the pain let him know he was still alive though. Still human; by some stretch of someone's imagination.
"How am I going to go on?" A question posed to no one in-particular, rhetorical in reality. However the question hung on the air, as if the sea's breeze were tossing it to and fro. The pain in his chest continued to build as he whimpered softly, slowly curling into a ball, his arms wrapped around his knees, his pack tossed carelessly into the sand.
Youth and Beauty Brigade
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
((Timothy Questiare continued from Tunnel Vision))
Tim Questiare followed behind Colin as the two walked away from the tunnels. He wouldn't mind if they never went back there again.. His mind kept replaying the scene of Tony's attack again and again in his mind. He tried to will these thought away, but they just kept returning. He hated this. He wasn't the one that was supposed to be suffering over this... It was Colin who was forced to finish what he started after fatally wounding Tony. That was undoubtedly much harder for him than Tim. Tim didn't have to do anything.. He just stood in watch. The only thing he could think about was how great it felt to have his gun back in his own palm... Selfish.
Once the boys reached a beach, Tim marked down their location on his map and stuffed it into his duffel bag. The two had only walked for about ten or fifteen minutes, so they were most likely at the northern beach. Laying down his bag, he examined the scenery and almost smiled. On an island full of murder and bloodshed, there were still pockets of beauty. Nature was still going on about its own business. The soft white sand, the lapping waves, the bright sky above them.
Colin suggested a campfire, and Tim didn't disagree. He wouldn't mind sitting by the warmth and just resting. Sure, they might attract attention with a fire, but... he had a gun! They would be okay as long as he kept the firearm in near sight.
Once the fire began to burn, Tim settled down into the sand and held his hands out. It wasn't particularly cold on the island, but he felt like warming his hands was something he was supposed to do... It wasn't like he had marshmallows or anything. He didn't bother to strike up a conversation with Colin, since he figured his friend was probably just thinking or something. It would be inappropriate to interrupt his line of thoughts.
Time passed, and the sound of Colin's voice broke Tim from his trance. He had been staring into the flames ahead of him, thoughts rushing through his mind. "Huh?" he asked, looking over at Colin. "Blame?" It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, but when he replied, he sounded blunt and honest. "Of course not, Colin! How could I blame you? Tony attacked us! He tackled me to the ground and threw a bag at your head! I'm sorry for talking badly about the dead here, but he was being a total moron!"
He doubted the last part of his sentence would make Colin feel any better, but it was how he truly felt.
Tim looked at Colin's face, and he realized that he had begun to cry again. He sighed and looked away, tracing nondescript shapes into the sand. "Besides, I was the one with the gun... I should have just kept it in my bag... or... or concealed," he muttered lamely. It was a poor excuse to take the blame away from Colin, but... he sort of felt that was true, in all honesty. Maybe it was Tim's fault...
He looked over at Colin and frowned. He was sobbing loudly and asking if he was a murderer. Tim's face sunk quite a bit. Colin was really taking this hard! "No! You aren't a murderer! Please stop crying, Colin. You defended us.. I mean, I have you to thank! If you wouldn't have done anything, he might have hurt us.. Hell, I don't know. You're a good person, and.. We're gunna see a lot of messed up stuff here, but.. it's inevitable," he said, feeling worse with every word he spoke. This would not make Colin feel better.. Why was Tim such a moron?
Tim buried his face into his hands at the sight of Colin tucking himself into the fetal position. Oh, God. While Colin was thinking, 'How am I going to go on?', Tim was desperately thinking, 'What in the hell am I supposed to do?'
Raising his face from his hands, he looked over at Colin and grit his teeth. He wasn't angry at his friend, he was just... Well, he felt useless. Tim couldn't relate...
Tim stood up and walked over to Colin, attempting to pull his arms away from his knees. "Come on, get up... It'll do you no good to sit here and grieve and think about Tony. It was horrible, I know.. And I'm really sorry, but I think you should just put it out of your mind. If you keep thinking about.. the past.." he paused and took a deep breath. He sounded so cheesy, but... he usually did. "it'll only bite you in the behind. So.. please get up."
"Please go back to being the friendly and kind Colin that I know. I hate seeing you cry," Tim thought to himself, a frown lining his face. He would have wrinkles at this rate with how much he was frowning.
Tim Questiare followed behind Colin as the two walked away from the tunnels. He wouldn't mind if they never went back there again.. His mind kept replaying the scene of Tony's attack again and again in his mind. He tried to will these thought away, but they just kept returning. He hated this. He wasn't the one that was supposed to be suffering over this... It was Colin who was forced to finish what he started after fatally wounding Tony. That was undoubtedly much harder for him than Tim. Tim didn't have to do anything.. He just stood in watch. The only thing he could think about was how great it felt to have his gun back in his own palm... Selfish.
Once the boys reached a beach, Tim marked down their location on his map and stuffed it into his duffel bag. The two had only walked for about ten or fifteen minutes, so they were most likely at the northern beach. Laying down his bag, he examined the scenery and almost smiled. On an island full of murder and bloodshed, there were still pockets of beauty. Nature was still going on about its own business. The soft white sand, the lapping waves, the bright sky above them.
Colin suggested a campfire, and Tim didn't disagree. He wouldn't mind sitting by the warmth and just resting. Sure, they might attract attention with a fire, but... he had a gun! They would be okay as long as he kept the firearm in near sight.
Once the fire began to burn, Tim settled down into the sand and held his hands out. It wasn't particularly cold on the island, but he felt like warming his hands was something he was supposed to do... It wasn't like he had marshmallows or anything. He didn't bother to strike up a conversation with Colin, since he figured his friend was probably just thinking or something. It would be inappropriate to interrupt his line of thoughts.
Time passed, and the sound of Colin's voice broke Tim from his trance. He had been staring into the flames ahead of him, thoughts rushing through his mind. "Huh?" he asked, looking over at Colin. "Blame?" It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, but when he replied, he sounded blunt and honest. "Of course not, Colin! How could I blame you? Tony attacked us! He tackled me to the ground and threw a bag at your head! I'm sorry for talking badly about the dead here, but he was being a total moron!"
He doubted the last part of his sentence would make Colin feel any better, but it was how he truly felt.
Tim looked at Colin's face, and he realized that he had begun to cry again. He sighed and looked away, tracing nondescript shapes into the sand. "Besides, I was the one with the gun... I should have just kept it in my bag... or... or concealed," he muttered lamely. It was a poor excuse to take the blame away from Colin, but... he sort of felt that was true, in all honesty. Maybe it was Tim's fault...
He looked over at Colin and frowned. He was sobbing loudly and asking if he was a murderer. Tim's face sunk quite a bit. Colin was really taking this hard! "No! You aren't a murderer! Please stop crying, Colin. You defended us.. I mean, I have you to thank! If you wouldn't have done anything, he might have hurt us.. Hell, I don't know. You're a good person, and.. We're gunna see a lot of messed up stuff here, but.. it's inevitable," he said, feeling worse with every word he spoke. This would not make Colin feel better.. Why was Tim such a moron?
Tim buried his face into his hands at the sight of Colin tucking himself into the fetal position. Oh, God. While Colin was thinking, 'How am I going to go on?', Tim was desperately thinking, 'What in the hell am I supposed to do?'
Raising his face from his hands, he looked over at Colin and grit his teeth. He wasn't angry at his friend, he was just... Well, he felt useless. Tim couldn't relate...
Tim stood up and walked over to Colin, attempting to pull his arms away from his knees. "Come on, get up... It'll do you no good to sit here and grieve and think about Tony. It was horrible, I know.. And I'm really sorry, but I think you should just put it out of your mind. If you keep thinking about.. the past.." he paused and took a deep breath. He sounded so cheesy, but... he usually did. "it'll only bite you in the behind. So.. please get up."
"Please go back to being the friendly and kind Colin that I know. I hate seeing you cry," Tim thought to himself, a frown lining his face. He would have wrinkles at this rate with how much he was frowning.
"Come on, get up... It'll do you no good to sit here and grieve and think about Tony. It was horrible, I know.. And I'm really sorry, but I think you should just put it out of your mind. If you keep thinking about.. the past.. It'll only bite you in the behind. So.. please get up."
Colin knew Tim's heart was in the right place with everything he said. But for some reason, his friend's consoling did little to pacify the sorrow that he felt. He continued to sob, trying to pull himself together for his friend's sake. Poor Tim sounded just as distraught as he was. Colin wasn't sure exactly why Tim was so distraught, but his current state couldn't be helping any.
A deep breath. He forced a calming wave through himself as he tried to recollect himself. He sighed heavily as he closed his eyes, listening to the calming sound of the waves lapping against the sand, the roaring crackle of the fire burning on the earth. If it weren't for the bloody nature of this forsaken island, this would be beautiful, and serene. Hey, if he hadn't been kidnapped they may be doing this anyways somewhere near a lake or something.
"Hey, Tim." He sounded sullen and downtrodden, but no longer was the waiver in his voice. "I always used to sing when I was a kid to calm myself down... Maybe it will help this time." He forced the most fake chuckle he had ever had the displeasure of hearing. "Too bad my guitar is nowhere in sight..."
He took another deep breath.
His voice echoed, the lapping of the waves and crackling of the fire holding the melody for this particular song, playing straight from his heart. The anguish in his voice was evident, the raw emotion not only influencing the lyrics, but the power that the words themselves held.
"I was meant for the stage..."
"I was meant for the curtain."
"I was meant to tread these boards..."
"Of this much I am certain."
"I was meant for the crowd..."
"I was meant for the shouting."
"I was meant to raise these hands,"
"With quiet all about me...."
"Oh... Oh..."
"Mother, please be proud..."
"Father, be forgiving..."
"Even though you told me,"
'Son, you'll never make a living.'
"Oh.. oh..."
The wails that his heart wanted to make known pushed their raw emotion through the only outlet that Colin had left. His hands sunk to the sand, clenching at the white, coarse granules in a fruitless effort to cling to something real; something from before.
"From the floorboards to the flys..."
"Here I was fated to reside."
"And as I take my final bow..."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"And as the spotlights fade away..."
"And you're escorted through the foyer..."
"You will resume your callow ways..."
"But I was meant for the stage!"
He sang for that which had been lost, that which should have been. He sung for his mother, his father, his future, his past. But mostly, he sang as an ode to one.
"Our pained and sorrowed cries..."
"That betray the faces we put forth."
"For those of us who draw breath no more..."
"And those of us, who move on."
Off of the top of his head, he just let his heart flow. His sins were not pardoned, there was no forgiveness for a murderer.
"I was meant for applause."
"I was meant for derision."
"Nothing short of fate itself..."
"Has affected my decision."
"Oh, oh."
"And from the floorboards to the flys..."
"Here I was fated to reside."
"And as I take my final bows..."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"And as the spotlights fade away..."
"And you're escorted through the foyer..."
"You will resume your callow ways."
"But I was meant... for... the stage..."
He began to weep yet again. However it felt less for guilt, and more in mourning. The only thing he could think about through that entire performance was about the boy that he just took the life of, the one that should be sitting here beside them. Why did this have to happen? He sighed, burying his head in his hands, letting the sounds of the world take over as the perfect follow to his display of emotion. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought. Will things ever be the same?
Colin knew Tim's heart was in the right place with everything he said. But for some reason, his friend's consoling did little to pacify the sorrow that he felt. He continued to sob, trying to pull himself together for his friend's sake. Poor Tim sounded just as distraught as he was. Colin wasn't sure exactly why Tim was so distraught, but his current state couldn't be helping any.
A deep breath. He forced a calming wave through himself as he tried to recollect himself. He sighed heavily as he closed his eyes, listening to the calming sound of the waves lapping against the sand, the roaring crackle of the fire burning on the earth. If it weren't for the bloody nature of this forsaken island, this would be beautiful, and serene. Hey, if he hadn't been kidnapped they may be doing this anyways somewhere near a lake or something.
"Hey, Tim." He sounded sullen and downtrodden, but no longer was the waiver in his voice. "I always used to sing when I was a kid to calm myself down... Maybe it will help this time." He forced the most fake chuckle he had ever had the displeasure of hearing. "Too bad my guitar is nowhere in sight..."
He took another deep breath.
His voice echoed, the lapping of the waves and crackling of the fire holding the melody for this particular song, playing straight from his heart. The anguish in his voice was evident, the raw emotion not only influencing the lyrics, but the power that the words themselves held.
"I was meant for the stage..."
"I was meant for the curtain."
"I was meant to tread these boards..."
"Of this much I am certain."
"I was meant for the crowd..."
"I was meant for the shouting."
"I was meant to raise these hands,"
"With quiet all about me...."
"Oh... Oh..."
"Mother, please be proud..."
"Father, be forgiving..."
"Even though you told me,"
'Son, you'll never make a living.'
"Oh.. oh..."
The wails that his heart wanted to make known pushed their raw emotion through the only outlet that Colin had left. His hands sunk to the sand, clenching at the white, coarse granules in a fruitless effort to cling to something real; something from before.
"From the floorboards to the flys..."
"Here I was fated to reside."
"And as I take my final bow..."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"And as the spotlights fade away..."
"And you're escorted through the foyer..."
"You will resume your callow ways..."
"But I was meant for the stage!"
He sang for that which had been lost, that which should have been. He sung for his mother, his father, his future, his past. But mostly, he sang as an ode to one.
"Our pained and sorrowed cries..."
"That betray the faces we put forth."
"For those of us who draw breath no more..."
"And those of us, who move on."
Off of the top of his head, he just let his heart flow. His sins were not pardoned, there was no forgiveness for a murderer.
"I was meant for applause."
"I was meant for derision."
"Nothing short of fate itself..."
"Has affected my decision."
"Oh, oh."
"And from the floorboards to the flys..."
"Here I was fated to reside."
"And as I take my final bows..."
"Was there ever any doubt?"
"And as the spotlights fade away..."
"And you're escorted through the foyer..."
"You will resume your callow ways."
"But I was meant... for... the stage..."
He began to weep yet again. However it felt less for guilt, and more in mourning. The only thing he could think about through that entire performance was about the boy that he just took the life of, the one that should be sitting here beside them. Why did this have to happen? He sighed, burying his head in his hands, letting the sounds of the world take over as the perfect follow to his display of emotion. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he thought. Will things ever be the same?
((Jacob Charles continues from Conquistador...))
Ever since he was young, Jacob's dad didn't put up with having a sissy kid. He wouldn't let him cry, or run away from trouble when he was around. No, he always had to be tough. If there was a fight, his dad made sure he stood his ground. If someone died, he was told to man up, never show his grievances. But once he met Paige, she helped him change. She was a tough cookie, and was resiliant enough to break through his shell. She made him feel something full, something no one else could make him feel.
He'd broken his first promise to his dad when he spent almost the entire day hiding.
There was no one he could trust anymore. After he left the house, with....he knew that it would only be a matter of time before he ran into someone. They would kill him, wouldn't they? Just like Rob killed...and then, he would be gone. Just like...
But after a while hiding, in places that he doubted even the camera's trod, he ran again. He heard things, heard screams, heard so many noises, noises of death, pain, and everything in between. He couldn't trust not one person in his life any more.
But it was growing late. He couldn't hide anymore. After hours of wandering, walking, desperation in finding shelter, he reached this beach that lay before him.
It was a beautiful sight. Driftwood scattered the sandy stretch before him, like roaches crawling out of a wall. The waves waxed and waned against the beach, each leaving little gifts for the sand to keep.
I never got to see this back at home. I bet Paige would have en-
And then, he realised what was wrong with the picture. He wasn't supposed to be standing there, watching the ocean on his own. He had a bullet in his leg, he had no bag, he had no friends, and...she was taken away from him.
Reality rushed back at him like a bucket of water over the head. He couldn't take in the view that greeted him, because he was in the sand, leg bleeding out ever so slowly, as he sat there, on his knees, hands burying themselves into the sand with grief. He couldn't enjoy it to food, since his bag was taken from him. He couldn't enjoy it with friends, since he knew they would all be out to kill him. He couldn't enjoy it with Paige.
Because Paige had been taken away from him.
There was no point trying to fool himself. He wanted to man up, make himself a tough guy, get over everything. That was why, over the time that he had taken trying to get over it, he tried to tell himself it wasn't happening. Paige was still here. The little plucky runner was somewhere. His friends would all be alright. He would enjoy the rest of his life with her. Everything and everyone would be okay.
Except that wasn't how it was going to be.
His father would have laughed at him, tears streaming down his face. He was going soft, but Jacob honestly couldn't give a fuck. The most important thing in his entire life had been taken away from him forever. His rock, his little bouncy girl who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was dead. A hole was blasted through his stomach, just like her. The gap which would never be filled.
The view no longer mattered to him, the waterworks now engulfing his face. He didn't want to enjoy it. He just wanted to cry. Fuck what his dad thought, fuck what anyone thought. Fuck the view, Fuck the island, Fuck his friends, Fuck everyone around him, Fuck the game, Fuck the ocean, Fuck the moon, Fuck the sky, fuck the stars, FUCK DANYA, FUCK EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD.
Paige was gone. There was no Paige ever again.
Ever since he was young, Jacob's dad didn't put up with having a sissy kid. He wouldn't let him cry, or run away from trouble when he was around. No, he always had to be tough. If there was a fight, his dad made sure he stood his ground. If someone died, he was told to man up, never show his grievances. But once he met Paige, she helped him change. She was a tough cookie, and was resiliant enough to break through his shell. She made him feel something full, something no one else could make him feel.
He'd broken his first promise to his dad when he spent almost the entire day hiding.
There was no one he could trust anymore. After he left the house, with....he knew that it would only be a matter of time before he ran into someone. They would kill him, wouldn't they? Just like Rob killed...and then, he would be gone. Just like...
But after a while hiding, in places that he doubted even the camera's trod, he ran again. He heard things, heard screams, heard so many noises, noises of death, pain, and everything in between. He couldn't trust not one person in his life any more.
But it was growing late. He couldn't hide anymore. After hours of wandering, walking, desperation in finding shelter, he reached this beach that lay before him.
It was a beautiful sight. Driftwood scattered the sandy stretch before him, like roaches crawling out of a wall. The waves waxed and waned against the beach, each leaving little gifts for the sand to keep.
I never got to see this back at home. I bet Paige would have en-
And then, he realised what was wrong with the picture. He wasn't supposed to be standing there, watching the ocean on his own. He had a bullet in his leg, he had no bag, he had no friends, and...she was taken away from him.
Reality rushed back at him like a bucket of water over the head. He couldn't take in the view that greeted him, because he was in the sand, leg bleeding out ever so slowly, as he sat there, on his knees, hands burying themselves into the sand with grief. He couldn't enjoy it to food, since his bag was taken from him. He couldn't enjoy it with friends, since he knew they would all be out to kill him. He couldn't enjoy it with Paige.
Because Paige had been taken away from him.
There was no point trying to fool himself. He wanted to man up, make himself a tough guy, get over everything. That was why, over the time that he had taken trying to get over it, he tried to tell himself it wasn't happening. Paige was still here. The little plucky runner was somewhere. His friends would all be alright. He would enjoy the rest of his life with her. Everything and everyone would be okay.
Except that wasn't how it was going to be.
His father would have laughed at him, tears streaming down his face. He was going soft, but Jacob honestly couldn't give a fuck. The most important thing in his entire life had been taken away from him forever. His rock, his little bouncy girl who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with was dead. A hole was blasted through his stomach, just like her. The gap which would never be filled.
The view no longer mattered to him, the waterworks now engulfing his face. He didn't want to enjoy it. He just wanted to cry. Fuck what his dad thought, fuck what anyone thought. Fuck the view, Fuck the island, Fuck his friends, Fuck everyone around him, Fuck the game, Fuck the ocean, Fuck the moon, Fuck the sky, fuck the stars, FUCK DANYA, FUCK EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD.
Paige was gone. There was no Paige ever again.
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Tim took a step away from Colin and watched as the boy slowly composed himself. His sobbing ceased, and he took a deep breath, looking over at Tim. Colin spoke Tim's name, and the blonde immediately came to attention, his eyebrows raising. "Yes?" he asked, and waited patiently for Colin to speak. He desperately hoped that Colin wouldn't continue to ask useless questions about Tony's murder or the events that conspired back in the tunnels.
But, thankfully, the tunnels nor Tony's death were mentioned by Colin. Instead he told Tim that singing used to calm him down. Tim nodded in an understanding way and sat back down in the soft sand, his eyebrows knitted together. "W-Well, if you want to sing, you should." He went completely silent after that, not wanting to say anything more that could potentially discourage his friend. If Colin had a way to compose and calm himself, then let him work through it.
And he sang. Tim averted his eyes and, instead, watched the waves crash onto the shore. He brought his knees up to his chest and stared into the distance with empty eyes. He looked lost and confused, but he was listening. He was listening to the words that Colin sung with every fiber of his being. He could hear the emotion and the sorrow and the sadness, but all Tim could do was listen and appreciate it.
He sounded so good. He sounded much better than that time back at the Cafe and the times they practiced for the fake band that never came to be. At this time and place, caught up in the moment, Tim thought he had never heard of singing this good, but he realized that it was mostly the emotion that captivated him. And yet, he continued to stare and listen, not doing much else. Everything else seemed incredibly insignificant.
After a few minutes, his singing came to a close. Tim raised his hands to clap but quickly dropped them when he realized how ridiculous that would be. He could imagine Colin giving him a sharp glare, so he stayed silent, hugging his knees and looking from the ocean to the fire ahead. The smell of firewood filled his nose, and he held out his hands again to drink in the warmth. He became aware that Colin was crying again. Tim looked down at the sand and desperately tried to think of something to say. He wanted some magical phrase to pop up into his head; a phrase that would instantly make Colin feel better.
Instead, he decided to just say the first thing that came to mind. It definitely wasn't the elaborate response that he hoped for, and it did Colin's wonderful singing absolutely no justice, but he still spoke the words, "That was really deep, Colin. I mean, wonderful, but deep."
He didn't try to stop his tears this time. He knew that Colin deserved to cry.
Turning his attention away from the fire in front of him, Tim peered around the beach and looked behind him to see a blurry figure. The figure was too far away to distinguish who it was or what they were doing, but the figure appeared to be just sitting in the sand. Tim squinted and tried to make out who it was, but, honestly, Tim couldn't even figure out if it was a boy or a girl. His distance vision was terrible.
Looking away from the distant mystery person, Tim turned to Colin and felt a pang of guilt for him. He didn't want to interrupt his mourning, but.. Tim thought it would be a good idea to just let him know that they weren't alone. "'Ey, Colin. There's someone over there.." he whispered, jerking his head in the direction of the person.
But, thankfully, the tunnels nor Tony's death were mentioned by Colin. Instead he told Tim that singing used to calm him down. Tim nodded in an understanding way and sat back down in the soft sand, his eyebrows knitted together. "W-Well, if you want to sing, you should." He went completely silent after that, not wanting to say anything more that could potentially discourage his friend. If Colin had a way to compose and calm himself, then let him work through it.
And he sang. Tim averted his eyes and, instead, watched the waves crash onto the shore. He brought his knees up to his chest and stared into the distance with empty eyes. He looked lost and confused, but he was listening. He was listening to the words that Colin sung with every fiber of his being. He could hear the emotion and the sorrow and the sadness, but all Tim could do was listen and appreciate it.
He sounded so good. He sounded much better than that time back at the Cafe and the times they practiced for the fake band that never came to be. At this time and place, caught up in the moment, Tim thought he had never heard of singing this good, but he realized that it was mostly the emotion that captivated him. And yet, he continued to stare and listen, not doing much else. Everything else seemed incredibly insignificant.
After a few minutes, his singing came to a close. Tim raised his hands to clap but quickly dropped them when he realized how ridiculous that would be. He could imagine Colin giving him a sharp glare, so he stayed silent, hugging his knees and looking from the ocean to the fire ahead. The smell of firewood filled his nose, and he held out his hands again to drink in the warmth. He became aware that Colin was crying again. Tim looked down at the sand and desperately tried to think of something to say. He wanted some magical phrase to pop up into his head; a phrase that would instantly make Colin feel better.
Instead, he decided to just say the first thing that came to mind. It definitely wasn't the elaborate response that he hoped for, and it did Colin's wonderful singing absolutely no justice, but he still spoke the words, "That was really deep, Colin. I mean, wonderful, but deep."
He didn't try to stop his tears this time. He knew that Colin deserved to cry.
Turning his attention away from the fire in front of him, Tim peered around the beach and looked behind him to see a blurry figure. The figure was too far away to distinguish who it was or what they were doing, but the figure appeared to be just sitting in the sand. Tim squinted and tried to make out who it was, but, honestly, Tim couldn't even figure out if it was a boy or a girl. His distance vision was terrible.
Looking away from the distant mystery person, Tim turned to Colin and felt a pang of guilt for him. He didn't want to interrupt his mourning, but.. Tim thought it would be a good idea to just let him know that they weren't alone. "'Ey, Colin. There's someone over there.." he whispered, jerking his head in the direction of the person.
Colin's choked voice wavered through the night, cutting the silence as if it were an Axe through hot butter. As little as Colin could control himself and his emotions, Tim's voice really did help to soothe him, to help him feel like everything was going to be alright. And even though it wasn't, it was comforting to know there was someone who cared enough about him to try and make him feel better, even though he had done the absolutely unthinkable.
"T-Thanks." The power behind his tears and emotion had unfortunately taken it's toll on his body, making his nose run and his eyes redden and puff up. A soft sniffle punctuated the serenity of the purely natural sounds overpowering the scene. He didn't deserve to ever know what it was to not feel sorrow and guilt again. But for that brief and shining moment, the singing really had helped. Not in the way that it did when he was younger, but in that it brought voice to his friend again.
There was one person left in the world who didn't still hate him.
Tony didn't hate him as he drew his final breath. In fact, the victim had forgiven the killer long before the act had ever been done.
Tim didn't hate him for whatever reason. Maybe he had rationalized the actions he had performed better than he himself could ever do. Or maybe he saw past the actions to the motivation and the truth behind the label that now adorned his very being.
But he would never stop hating himself for as long as he lived. Which as far as Colin was concerned, wasn't going to be more than a few more days. Colin felt that he deserved to meet his end on this island. He could never go back. As much as he wanted to feel his mother's warm embrace one more time before his time came, he knew he deserved nothing but the icy touch of the hand of death itself.
And yet the fire raged on. The love coming from Tim was still there. And as bad as Colin felt for even making Tim waste the energy to speak to him... It still felt nice. Not nice enough to make him forget or even push aside the deed that had been done. But it was still a comfort.
And through his entire thought process, he hadn't even realized he had been crying. The tears rolling down his cheeks still, the constant sniffling betrayed the guilt he felt, yet the soft smile that he dared to show only to the flesh of his knees showed only to the powers that be that he was already beginning to recover. Whoever said that time will heal all wounds was right. Colin would just never be left with enough time to heal this particular wound.
The voice of his companion broke his attention. Instead of more comfort however, bad news brewed.
"'Ey, Colin. There's someone over there.."
Through tear soaked eyes and blurred vision, Colin squinted in an attempt to determine anything at all about the newcomer. However through the red glow of the fire, the figure was indistinguishable as anything other than human. The only blessing that he saw was that he no longer had that Axe. He physically couldn't hurt this other innocent boy or girl if they meant no harm like Tony. But he also knew that he couldn't save his friend if the person were to attack the pair.
Not that there was any way he could bring himself to bring a weapon to bear against anyone ever again. No matter the circumstance. Something about the singer was broken in an absolute way. As much as his will to live existed when he felt the life of his friend was in danger, that will evaporated the moment the blood had spilled. If they were to die, apparently this would be the day. A soft, whimpering "I'm sorry" escaped his lips as he prepared for the worst, and prayed for the best.
"T-Thanks." The power behind his tears and emotion had unfortunately taken it's toll on his body, making his nose run and his eyes redden and puff up. A soft sniffle punctuated the serenity of the purely natural sounds overpowering the scene. He didn't deserve to ever know what it was to not feel sorrow and guilt again. But for that brief and shining moment, the singing really had helped. Not in the way that it did when he was younger, but in that it brought voice to his friend again.
There was one person left in the world who didn't still hate him.
Tony didn't hate him as he drew his final breath. In fact, the victim had forgiven the killer long before the act had ever been done.
Tim didn't hate him for whatever reason. Maybe he had rationalized the actions he had performed better than he himself could ever do. Or maybe he saw past the actions to the motivation and the truth behind the label that now adorned his very being.
But he would never stop hating himself for as long as he lived. Which as far as Colin was concerned, wasn't going to be more than a few more days. Colin felt that he deserved to meet his end on this island. He could never go back. As much as he wanted to feel his mother's warm embrace one more time before his time came, he knew he deserved nothing but the icy touch of the hand of death itself.
And yet the fire raged on. The love coming from Tim was still there. And as bad as Colin felt for even making Tim waste the energy to speak to him... It still felt nice. Not nice enough to make him forget or even push aside the deed that had been done. But it was still a comfort.
And through his entire thought process, he hadn't even realized he had been crying. The tears rolling down his cheeks still, the constant sniffling betrayed the guilt he felt, yet the soft smile that he dared to show only to the flesh of his knees showed only to the powers that be that he was already beginning to recover. Whoever said that time will heal all wounds was right. Colin would just never be left with enough time to heal this particular wound.
The voice of his companion broke his attention. Instead of more comfort however, bad news brewed.
"'Ey, Colin. There's someone over there.."
Through tear soaked eyes and blurred vision, Colin squinted in an attempt to determine anything at all about the newcomer. However through the red glow of the fire, the figure was indistinguishable as anything other than human. The only blessing that he saw was that he no longer had that Axe. He physically couldn't hurt this other innocent boy or girl if they meant no harm like Tony. But he also knew that he couldn't save his friend if the person were to attack the pair.
Not that there was any way he could bring himself to bring a weapon to bear against anyone ever again. No matter the circumstance. Something about the singer was broken in an absolute way. As much as his will to live existed when he felt the life of his friend was in danger, that will evaporated the moment the blood had spilled. If they were to die, apparently this would be the day. A soft, whimpering "I'm sorry" escaped his lips as he prepared for the worst, and prayed for the best.
((Sorry about the short post and the holdup))
It vaguely registered to Jacob that someone else was there, on that beach. Another human being, possibly more than one, who had taken the time to actually light a fire. He didn't know what that fact mattered to him, as he sat hunched over the sand on his hands and knees.
The world was so quiet there, that he couldn't believe it.
He took the time to consider the possibility of them not playing, while still trying to forget. He had run from Ben, from Sarah, from Adrian and the other guy because his world had been shattered. Someone had really gone through with it, and it made him fearful. This was amplified by his loss, the loss of the one thing in the world that truly mattered to him anymore...
Paige...
He didn't know what life there was to live without her. The last thing he said to her was to scream at her for riling RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins up, and that was it. Nothing sentimental on his end, nothing he never got to say being said. It was just one shot, moments upon moments of pain, and then his rock was gone. He never got to apologize for lying to her, for telling her everything would be okay. But he thought it would be okay! Did that make it any better?
He wasn't sure what life he faced if he ever did make it back home, if the game was stopped and they were all rescued. He spent every morsel of money on that one gift for Paige, so his plans for leaving town, which he'd held in the back of his mind ever since he'd had aspirations, were zilch. So, once the media fawned over the people who were forced to kill, like RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins, and stories were made about the families of those killed, like Paige, and there would be so much media hype about them, forced to bear the unbearable. And then, once it all died down, once everything was said and done, what next? He still had a family to go home to, a family that needed work. The economy was becoming worse and worse every day, and with such lousy school marks and a lifetime of part-time work under his belt, he knew his parents would be all the more willing to have him stay at the garage, work there as part of the family business.
And once they got too old to work, and they somehow retired with the little funds they had, it would be his responsibility. But he had no idea what the future would hold, since his family wasn't the only mechanic's business in town. They had better advertising, better workers, and better people who were also SOTF survivors families. What happened once the economy hit hard, and they lost everything? What kind of life would that leave him compared to...
...compared to joining Paige.
The tears still running down his face, he could have almost punched himself at the thought. He'd done so much in helping Paige not do what just ran through his head that it was almost a gag reflex. Kill himself? Was that really an option?
Multitudes of thoughts swarmed his head, but they were all indistinguishable among the one clear answer to his question.
..........
.........
........
.......
......
.....
....
...
..
.
..
...
....
.....
......
.......
........
.........
..........
.....................................................yes.
He could end it now, and save anyone the trouble of having to look after him. Say if he did manage to trust, and came across somebody who was willing have him, what would he have to contribute? He had nothing, not a weapon to protect them with, not a morsel of food to give them, and not a reason that was any more significant for them to go home to than any of them would. He would really be a dead weight.
And that dead weight could just as easily drop itself right now.
After ages and ages sitting alone in the darkness, Jacob got up again. His leg still echoing pain, he fully subconciously ignored it again. With one giant step forward, as he always did, he started towards the water.
Now was the time. He had to keep walking forward, and never look back.
It vaguely registered to Jacob that someone else was there, on that beach. Another human being, possibly more than one, who had taken the time to actually light a fire. He didn't know what that fact mattered to him, as he sat hunched over the sand on his hands and knees.
The world was so quiet there, that he couldn't believe it.
He took the time to consider the possibility of them not playing, while still trying to forget. He had run from Ben, from Sarah, from Adrian and the other guy because his world had been shattered. Someone had really gone through with it, and it made him fearful. This was amplified by his loss, the loss of the one thing in the world that truly mattered to him anymore...
Paige...
He didn't know what life there was to live without her. The last thing he said to her was to scream at her for riling RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins up, and that was it. Nothing sentimental on his end, nothing he never got to say being said. It was just one shot, moments upon moments of pain, and then his rock was gone. He never got to apologize for lying to her, for telling her everything would be okay. But he thought it would be okay! Did that make it any better?
He wasn't sure what life he faced if he ever did make it back home, if the game was stopped and they were all rescued. He spent every morsel of money on that one gift for Paige, so his plans for leaving town, which he'd held in the back of his mind ever since he'd had aspirations, were zilch. So, once the media fawned over the people who were forced to kill, like RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins, and stories were made about the families of those killed, like Paige, and there would be so much media hype about them, forced to bear the unbearable. And then, once it all died down, once everything was said and done, what next? He still had a family to go home to, a family that needed work. The economy was becoming worse and worse every day, and with such lousy school marks and a lifetime of part-time work under his belt, he knew his parents would be all the more willing to have him stay at the garage, work there as part of the family business.
And once they got too old to work, and they somehow retired with the little funds they had, it would be his responsibility. But he had no idea what the future would hold, since his family wasn't the only mechanic's business in town. They had better advertising, better workers, and better people who were also SOTF survivors families. What happened once the economy hit hard, and they lost everything? What kind of life would that leave him compared to...
...compared to joining Paige.
The tears still running down his face, he could have almost punched himself at the thought. He'd done so much in helping Paige not do what just ran through his head that it was almost a gag reflex. Kill himself? Was that really an option?
Multitudes of thoughts swarmed his head, but they were all indistinguishable among the one clear answer to his question.
..........
.........
........
.......
......
.....
....
...
..
.
..
...
....
.....
......
.......
........
.........
..........
.....................................................yes.
He could end it now, and save anyone the trouble of having to look after him. Say if he did manage to trust, and came across somebody who was willing have him, what would he have to contribute? He had nothing, not a weapon to protect them with, not a morsel of food to give them, and not a reason that was any more significant for them to go home to than any of them would. He would really be a dead weight.
And that dead weight could just as easily drop itself right now.
After ages and ages sitting alone in the darkness, Jacob got up again. His leg still echoing pain, he fully subconciously ignored it again. With one giant step forward, as he always did, he started towards the water.
Now was the time. He had to keep walking forward, and never look back.
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
A confused look spread over Tim's face when Colin quietly apologized. He still seemed thoroughly upset, and Tim honestly wasn't sure when his friend would ever get over it. Much like Colin, Tim didn't think he had much of a chance of living past a few days. Maybe a week or so if he was lucky, mostly because of his decent weapon. But, anymore than a week? Definitely not.
After a week, people would begin to get desperate. Rations of food would start to evaporate quickly, as would many of their classmates. Tim assumed that only serious people would survive past a week. Was he serious? He honestly didn't think so. Sure, he had his handy gun (thanks to Colin), but did he possess the strength to use it against someone else? He wasn't sure. He didn't want to think about it just yet. He'd use it with the situation revealed itself. And by 'use it', he didn't mean that he would pull the trigger willy-nilly.
He would think. He would think logically. He wouldn't use it on someone who didn't deserve it.
"Why are you apologizing?" Tim's voice spoke after what seemed to be a few silence-filled minutes, his eyes not looking away from the vague figure in the distance. He fumbled around for his flashlight and flicked it on, considering approaching the figure. Maybe the person needed help. Maybe the person was looking for someone, anyone on this godforsaken island. Someone to relate to, someone to be with. The dark side of his brain was telling him that it could also be a killer, but... Tim decided he could take that chance. He had a gun, he could handle it.
Before he made the split-decision to get up and approach the person in the distance, Tim waited in absolute silence, his jaw clenched and his eyes staring forward. Much time passed in which the figure didn't move. Tim took this as a good sign and slowly stood up, about to approach the figure. This could be a fatal chance, but it was a chance that Tim was willing to take. He wanted to help people, and perhaps that person needed help. It could be dumb, but he didn't care. His time was numbered anyway.
But, before he could stand up and make his way over there, the dark figure stood up and started making great strides towards the ocean in front of him. Tim's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he watched, his mouth falling open. He was waiting for the person to slow, but it just kept going. Perhaps it was going to wash off or..or.. No.
It was entering the water.
Tim only had time to shout, "Colin..!" before he took off in the direction of the figure. He wasn't sure if this person was planning to swim to safety (undoubtedly stupid) or merely take their own life, but Tim wanted to be there to find out and set things straight. He couldn't just watch someone walk solemnly into the great dark ocean before him.
The closer he got, the clearer the figure became. Tim trained his flashlight on the figure drawing closer to the water and realized that it was a male. Squinting, Tim tried to figure out if it was someone he knew. Was this.. Jacob? Tim recalled having a few classes with the boys, but he wouldn't consider them fond acquaintances or anything. Just... familiar. But now wasn't the time to assess whether or not he liked Jacob or not.
Once he was within a fair distance of Jacob, well away from the comforting fire behind him, he shouted, "Jacob! Jacob, is that you?! What are you doing? Wait!!" He ran forward, and, without thinking, put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking any further into the waters. "Don't.." Tim took a brief moment to glance back and see if Colin decided to follow Tim or stay behind by the fire.
After a week, people would begin to get desperate. Rations of food would start to evaporate quickly, as would many of their classmates. Tim assumed that only serious people would survive past a week. Was he serious? He honestly didn't think so. Sure, he had his handy gun (thanks to Colin), but did he possess the strength to use it against someone else? He wasn't sure. He didn't want to think about it just yet. He'd use it with the situation revealed itself. And by 'use it', he didn't mean that he would pull the trigger willy-nilly.
He would think. He would think logically. He wouldn't use it on someone who didn't deserve it.
"Why are you apologizing?" Tim's voice spoke after what seemed to be a few silence-filled minutes, his eyes not looking away from the vague figure in the distance. He fumbled around for his flashlight and flicked it on, considering approaching the figure. Maybe the person needed help. Maybe the person was looking for someone, anyone on this godforsaken island. Someone to relate to, someone to be with. The dark side of his brain was telling him that it could also be a killer, but... Tim decided he could take that chance. He had a gun, he could handle it.
Before he made the split-decision to get up and approach the person in the distance, Tim waited in absolute silence, his jaw clenched and his eyes staring forward. Much time passed in which the figure didn't move. Tim took this as a good sign and slowly stood up, about to approach the figure. This could be a fatal chance, but it was a chance that Tim was willing to take. He wanted to help people, and perhaps that person needed help. It could be dumb, but he didn't care. His time was numbered anyway.
But, before he could stand up and make his way over there, the dark figure stood up and started making great strides towards the ocean in front of him. Tim's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he watched, his mouth falling open. He was waiting for the person to slow, but it just kept going. Perhaps it was going to wash off or..or.. No.
It was entering the water.
Tim only had time to shout, "Colin..!" before he took off in the direction of the figure. He wasn't sure if this person was planning to swim to safety (undoubtedly stupid) or merely take their own life, but Tim wanted to be there to find out and set things straight. He couldn't just watch someone walk solemnly into the great dark ocean before him.
The closer he got, the clearer the figure became. Tim trained his flashlight on the figure drawing closer to the water and realized that it was a male. Squinting, Tim tried to figure out if it was someone he knew. Was this.. Jacob? Tim recalled having a few classes with the boys, but he wouldn't consider them fond acquaintances or anything. Just... familiar. But now wasn't the time to assess whether or not he liked Jacob or not.
Once he was within a fair distance of Jacob, well away from the comforting fire behind him, he shouted, "Jacob! Jacob, is that you?! What are you doing? Wait!!" He ran forward, and, without thinking, put a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking any further into the waters. "Don't.." Tim took a brief moment to glance back and see if Colin decided to follow Tim or stay behind by the fire.
As soon as Jacob had walked past the sandy shores and into the water, the boy finally caught Colin's eye. And he was walking straight for the ocean. It was as if the boy was on a mission, blinders thrown across his eyes. Like a broken man, walking into the light.
He walked into the water. Ankle deep. Knee deep. Waist deep. Definitely not washing off the sorrows of the island, not attempting to find a temporary respite from pain.
He just kept walking.
And for some reason, this just mesmerized Colin. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel. The world shut out around him as his mind wandered. But thankfully for the Water-Walker's sake, Tim's voice seemed to be the one thing that could snap him out of his Stupors.
"Colin..!"
With a start, he shook his head and jumped to his feet. Disorientation was the name of the game, as from his Stupor, Colin had little idea as to what was happening. But the next thing he realized, he found his feet charging forward, keeping in line with his Companion.
"Jacob! Jacob, is that you?! What are you doing? Wait!!"
And just like that, Colin felt water washing over him. Again, a sudden jump back to reality. Looking forward at the scene, Tim's arm was on Jacob's shoulder, and the boor boy had looked like he had seen a ghost. And finally Colin realized just why Tim was so panicked. The look on his face was unmistakable. Pure sorrow, and regret. Something Colin knew all too well right now. Jacob was attempting to find his final resting place at sea, unable to take that. Something he'd lost that was so dear to him, or maybe even just the reality of it all.
Colin hadn't done a thing to help.
Tim was a hero, Colin was a monster. His eyes closed as he sighed.
"Take it easy Jacob... We want to help." His eyes almost went wide as he spoke, unaware that he was doing it. It was almost as if his entire body was on auto-pilot, leaving his mind time to wander. The split of his mind from before taking hold as reality continued to set in. The boy who was now resided on the outside. A pained longing, a terrible feeling or sorrow made up his core, his mind, in reality, his soul.
He walked into the water. Ankle deep. Knee deep. Waist deep. Definitely not washing off the sorrows of the island, not attempting to find a temporary respite from pain.
He just kept walking.
And for some reason, this just mesmerized Colin. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel. The world shut out around him as his mind wandered. But thankfully for the Water-Walker's sake, Tim's voice seemed to be the one thing that could snap him out of his Stupors.
"Colin..!"
With a start, he shook his head and jumped to his feet. Disorientation was the name of the game, as from his Stupor, Colin had little idea as to what was happening. But the next thing he realized, he found his feet charging forward, keeping in line with his Companion.
"Jacob! Jacob, is that you?! What are you doing? Wait!!"
And just like that, Colin felt water washing over him. Again, a sudden jump back to reality. Looking forward at the scene, Tim's arm was on Jacob's shoulder, and the boor boy had looked like he had seen a ghost. And finally Colin realized just why Tim was so panicked. The look on his face was unmistakable. Pure sorrow, and regret. Something Colin knew all too well right now. Jacob was attempting to find his final resting place at sea, unable to take that. Something he'd lost that was so dear to him, or maybe even just the reality of it all.
Colin hadn't done a thing to help.
Tim was a hero, Colin was a monster. His eyes closed as he sighed.
"Take it easy Jacob... We want to help." His eyes almost went wide as he spoke, unaware that he was doing it. It was almost as if his entire body was on auto-pilot, leaving his mind time to wander. The split of his mind from before taking hold as reality continued to set in. The boy who was now resided on the outside. A pained longing, a terrible feeling or sorrow made up his core, his mind, in reality, his soul.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Ste-splash...
Jacob's worn sneakers finally met the cold ocean, the icyness all too welcoming. The saltyness flooded his senses, filling his nostrils and abrazing his skin. It was nothing. He was too much in focus to his one final goal to care about his own comfort.
I'm coming Paige...
There were tiny voices of doubt hovering around in his mind. He...was starting to feel regret. He was so desperate to be with her again that he was putting his irrationality before all else. But he wasn't paying attention to that bit of his subconcious anymore. It was gone, its essence depleted.
But...there were voices still. They weren't the ones he recognised, but there was no doubt that they were there. They...seemed familiar. It was as though he was reliving something, so...was it real?
"...ob! Jac...s tha...What...Wait!!"
"Take it easy...to hel..."
Jacob smacked right back. He was chest deep in the ocean, not too unlike someone who had been here almost a day before. But unlike that poor person, his intentions were much more serious. Turning his head, he could only see the darkness of the ocean, darkness of the world, before him. But...there was a little bit of light...it was somewhere around him, somewhere...
Turning his head to his left, he saw someone, two people actually. The faces couldn't match up to any names that he remember off the top of his head, but he knew of their intentions perfectly well. It wasn't often one saw a suicide attempt go so slowly, or at all for that matter, and now they wanted to stop him.
But Jacob wasn't going to have that.
"...I'm sorry. You can't help me. No one can help me anymore. I'm not worth it anyway."
The hand on his shoulder, still stopping him from moving any further towards, was now becoming more clear in his mind. A human touch, a human's scent...
"...I failed. I was supposed to protect her. But she's gone forever now. My only," Jacob turned back to the ocean again, taking in the cacophony of sound that accompanied it "Reason to survive here was taken from me, and...I'm going to join her."
He wanted to throw off the first figure's hand from his shoulder and continue his stride, he was certainly strong enough to and the figure was small enough, but...there was something stopping him. He had to finish this fight with words. His stupid, meaningless words.
"I've chosen my path, and I'm taking it now. My friends are dying, and I'm going to be among them. So please...just leave me alone."
The tears were still flowing right down his face throughout. He didn't realise how much pain these words were doing him, nor was he sure if he would have cared. The pain was meaningless now, compared to joining his beloved, wherever she lay now.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Ste-splash...
Jacob's worn sneakers finally met the cold ocean, the icyness all too welcoming. The saltyness flooded his senses, filling his nostrils and abrazing his skin. It was nothing. He was too much in focus to his one final goal to care about his own comfort.
I'm coming Paige...
There were tiny voices of doubt hovering around in his mind. He...was starting to feel regret. He was so desperate to be with her again that he was putting his irrationality before all else. But he wasn't paying attention to that bit of his subconcious anymore. It was gone, its essence depleted.
But...there were voices still. They weren't the ones he recognised, but there was no doubt that they were there. They...seemed familiar. It was as though he was reliving something, so...was it real?
"...ob! Jac...s tha...What...Wait!!"
"Take it easy...to hel..."
Jacob smacked right back. He was chest deep in the ocean, not too unlike someone who had been here almost a day before. But unlike that poor person, his intentions were much more serious. Turning his head, he could only see the darkness of the ocean, darkness of the world, before him. But...there was a little bit of light...it was somewhere around him, somewhere...
Turning his head to his left, he saw someone, two people actually. The faces couldn't match up to any names that he remember off the top of his head, but he knew of their intentions perfectly well. It wasn't often one saw a suicide attempt go so slowly, or at all for that matter, and now they wanted to stop him.
But Jacob wasn't going to have that.
"...I'm sorry. You can't help me. No one can help me anymore. I'm not worth it anyway."
The hand on his shoulder, still stopping him from moving any further towards, was now becoming more clear in his mind. A human touch, a human's scent...
"...I failed. I was supposed to protect her. But she's gone forever now. My only," Jacob turned back to the ocean again, taking in the cacophony of sound that accompanied it "Reason to survive here was taken from me, and...I'm going to join her."
He wanted to throw off the first figure's hand from his shoulder and continue his stride, he was certainly strong enough to and the figure was small enough, but...there was something stopping him. He had to finish this fight with words. His stupid, meaningless words.
"I've chosen my path, and I'm taking it now. My friends are dying, and I'm going to be among them. So please...just leave me alone."
The tears were still flowing right down his face throughout. He didn't realise how much pain these words were doing him, nor was he sure if he would have cared. The pain was meaningless now, compared to joining his beloved, wherever she lay now.
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Tim seemed thoroughly relieved when Colin came to his aid in helping Jacob. For a moment, he thought that Colin would just shake his head and sit there before the fire, too depressed to help anyone out. "Of course Colin would never do such a thing! He's kind and helpful." But... this was Survival of the Fittest. Anything could happen. Ignoring the water that was soaking his pants and causing his shoes to feel like they weighed a hundred pounds each, he strengthened his grip on Jacob and tried to pull him back towards shore.
He wanted to know what happened to Jacob to make him feel so shoddy. What was worth killing yourself on an island where death was almost guaranteed? At this thought, Tim stopped himself and almost smiled. Maybe suicide really was better than what was to be expected later. Torture, slaughter, maiming... Or a quiet death out at sea. Now Tim felt bad, and his imagination ran wild.
What if Colin and Tim saved Jacob from the water now, and later, he would only be impaled or shot or beheaded or de-limbed? What if he later met a fate that would be a thousand times more gruesome than a simple drowning? Then again, drowning wasn't so pleasant either. Not that Tim knew from experience, but he was almost positive that he would rather die from blood loss as opposed to not being able to breath.
Then again, he had no experience. Maybe dying of blood loss was way worse than drowning or asphyxiation?
Tim's attention turned away from thoughts of death when Jacob's voice cut through the air like a sharp dagger. Tim listened and shook his head, his grip becoming like an iron vise. "N-No.. Don't think that. You are worth it," he told Jacob, but he was well-aware of how cheesy it sounded. It sounded empty and fake. Tim had no idea how much Jacob was worth. Maybe he wasn't.
Jacob mentioned 'she' being gone forever, and Tim understood a little. Jacob had lost someone, maybe a female friend or a girlfriend. Tim sucked in a breath of salty sea air and paused, running his tongue over his dry lips. He couldn't think of anything to say. Why was he so useless?! He couldn't comfort Colin, and he definitely wouldn't be able to comfort a complete stranger.
Jacob's tears and pain-filled words caused Tim's heart to clench as he fumbled for something useful to say. His mind went through all the things that he learned in life: how to tie your shoes, how to catch a fish, how to grow a Venus fly trap, how to cut paper into snowflakes, how to color inside the lines, and then... Those dumb classes he took in middle school that never did anyone any good. Drug prevention programs and sex education.. None of those stupid classes were doing him any good here! Why couldn't he have learned something useful in school? Like how to eloquently talk someone out of suicide?
But Tim knew nothing. Just a vessel full of stupid information. And yet... he could hear his brain whirring. Words were coming to mind, but they probably wouldn't be helpful. He didn't have a choice. He'd just have to say them anyway.
"Jacob, please don't. I'm sorry about 'her' but.. She's in a better place now, yeah? She's away from this island, and.. Anywhere is better than here, right...? You don't have to kill yourself because she's gone. She probably wouldn't have wanted that." Tim paused and rubbed the bottom of his chin. He became aware that a small bit of blonde stubble had appeared there.
"You don't have to take this path," Tim said loudly, gesturing out to the ocean. "Just.. hang in there for a bit longer. You.. You can hang with us! I'm Tim, and this is Colin. We-we can travel together!" There was another pause, and Tim shook his head. He couldn't do this. He couldn't piece together meaningless words to convey a message that might not even convince Jacob not to die. He took a deep breath and
"Look, Jacob," Tim said loudly, letting his hand trail lower to grip onto Jacob's upper arm. "We're not going to stand here and watch as you drown yourself. We can't do that. I can't do that. So you're going to get with us to shore, and you not going to fucking argue it, okay?! Stop being stupid!" he shouted, using his other hand to grab onto the same arm as he looked over at Colin. "Grab his other arm, and let's get him back to shore."
Tim didn't think that force was the best way to go about this at the moment, but he honestly didn't care. Words weren't helping. If he wanted to bring about a change, he would have to do so; not talk about it.
He wanted to know what happened to Jacob to make him feel so shoddy. What was worth killing yourself on an island where death was almost guaranteed? At this thought, Tim stopped himself and almost smiled. Maybe suicide really was better than what was to be expected later. Torture, slaughter, maiming... Or a quiet death out at sea. Now Tim felt bad, and his imagination ran wild.
What if Colin and Tim saved Jacob from the water now, and later, he would only be impaled or shot or beheaded or de-limbed? What if he later met a fate that would be a thousand times more gruesome than a simple drowning? Then again, drowning wasn't so pleasant either. Not that Tim knew from experience, but he was almost positive that he would rather die from blood loss as opposed to not being able to breath.
Then again, he had no experience. Maybe dying of blood loss was way worse than drowning or asphyxiation?
Tim's attention turned away from thoughts of death when Jacob's voice cut through the air like a sharp dagger. Tim listened and shook his head, his grip becoming like an iron vise. "N-No.. Don't think that. You are worth it," he told Jacob, but he was well-aware of how cheesy it sounded. It sounded empty and fake. Tim had no idea how much Jacob was worth. Maybe he wasn't.
Jacob mentioned 'she' being gone forever, and Tim understood a little. Jacob had lost someone, maybe a female friend or a girlfriend. Tim sucked in a breath of salty sea air and paused, running his tongue over his dry lips. He couldn't think of anything to say. Why was he so useless?! He couldn't comfort Colin, and he definitely wouldn't be able to comfort a complete stranger.
Jacob's tears and pain-filled words caused Tim's heart to clench as he fumbled for something useful to say. His mind went through all the things that he learned in life: how to tie your shoes, how to catch a fish, how to grow a Venus fly trap, how to cut paper into snowflakes, how to color inside the lines, and then... Those dumb classes he took in middle school that never did anyone any good. Drug prevention programs and sex education.. None of those stupid classes were doing him any good here! Why couldn't he have learned something useful in school? Like how to eloquently talk someone out of suicide?
But Tim knew nothing. Just a vessel full of stupid information. And yet... he could hear his brain whirring. Words were coming to mind, but they probably wouldn't be helpful. He didn't have a choice. He'd just have to say them anyway.
"Jacob, please don't. I'm sorry about 'her' but.. She's in a better place now, yeah? She's away from this island, and.. Anywhere is better than here, right...? You don't have to kill yourself because she's gone. She probably wouldn't have wanted that." Tim paused and rubbed the bottom of his chin. He became aware that a small bit of blonde stubble had appeared there.
"You don't have to take this path," Tim said loudly, gesturing out to the ocean. "Just.. hang in there for a bit longer. You.. You can hang with us! I'm Tim, and this is Colin. We-we can travel together!" There was another pause, and Tim shook his head. He couldn't do this. He couldn't piece together meaningless words to convey a message that might not even convince Jacob not to die. He took a deep breath and
"Look, Jacob," Tim said loudly, letting his hand trail lower to grip onto Jacob's upper arm. "We're not going to stand here and watch as you drown yourself. We can't do that. I can't do that. So you're going to get with us to shore, and you not going to fucking argue it, okay?! Stop being stupid!" he shouted, using his other hand to grab onto the same arm as he looked over at Colin. "Grab his other arm, and let's get him back to shore."
Tim didn't think that force was the best way to go about this at the moment, but he honestly didn't care. Words weren't helping. If he wanted to bring about a change, he would have to do so; not talk about it.
((Posting to stop Jacob from going inactive))
The stars...why were they all so glintering? Was it because he was seeing them through eyes that no longer wanted to live, that were so teary and so uncaring about anything that everything was so exilerating?
But he couldn't think about that. The words of the other two, they echoed through his ears for what seemed like the longest time, and now...he was being taken back to shore.
N-No! No! Don't make me go back there! I can't, no!
But he couldn't do anything, bar muttering a few words weakly, pleadingly.
"No, please, stop, just...just let me-please, don't, just...I-I-I just...want to see...I JUST WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN!"
But nothing was working. As his legs started to struggle, he could feel the bandage slip through the water, making it's way down his leg as the flow of the water apposed his current direction. It was there, and then it wasn't. The salt water stung him, stung him like a hornet burrowing into his skin, and then...
It all faded. The whole facade. He couldn't stand it any longer. The pain really came back to him, all of it. The pain in his leg, the reality of the whole ridiculous situation. The emptyness became bitterness, the bittterness became sorrow, and the sorrow became pain. Pure, unfiltered pain. Once the boy finally reached the shore, he was himself again, and threw wild swings at the two boys that stood with him.
"You FUCKERS! WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? I WAS DOING FINE! I WASN'T EVEN NEAR YOU AT ALL, AND YOU HAD TO BUTT IN! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! YOU DON'T EVEN, KNOW, WHAT, HAPPENED TO ME!"
His rage was uncontrollable, the anger welling up inside of him simply bursting at the seams. How dare they. How dare they do this to him. His whole life, it had been everyone else controlling what he did, his parents, his girlfriend, his friends, and now these two fucking faggots standing there, acting so high and mighty like they had just saved a life! What did they know? What did they know?
"YOU WEREN'T THERE! YOU STAND THERE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS, AND YOU JUDGE LIKE SOME FUCKING HIGH AND MIGHTY RICH FAGGOT, BUT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! WHY DID YOU STOP ME? WHY DID YOU FUCKING TRY AND STOP ME? I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND I DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW! I WAS...I WAS...I...was..."
And it all came [color=sandybrown]o[color=tan]u[/color]t[/color].
Again, he was on the sand, and again, he was crying. But it wasn't silent this time; it was monsterous, hysterical, and it was himself again. He didn't hold himself back at all, he just screamed his pain out through his sobs, while clenched up in a tiny little ball on the sand. It was all still too much. He hadn't done it right, nothing had gone right. He just wanted to fix every little mistake he made before this point, this little flicker in time. But he couldn't. It was impossible, fixed. Nothing was going to change. In a few minutes, in a few days, he would still be alone.
"Paige...Paige...PAIGE!"
Her name was like a razor, slicing through the night sky and making his throat hurt too much to bear. It wasn't going to be his saviour from the world anymore; it would only be a refuge in the dead and unknown.
It went on for so long, so very very long, and he didn't give any warning. The people in front of him, they wouldn't understand. Unclenching his fists from the sand, he stretched them inconspicuously, and scrambled in the direction of the fire.
It wasn't long until every element that was hindering Jacob during the day finally caught up to him. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't drunk, he hadn't slept, and he hadn't gotten proper attention for the bullet, still there, throbbing in his leg. So Jacob didn't make it 1 yard past the fire until he finally slowed down, stopped, and passed out on the sand.
The stars...why were they all so glintering? Was it because he was seeing them through eyes that no longer wanted to live, that were so teary and so uncaring about anything that everything was so exilerating?
But he couldn't think about that. The words of the other two, they echoed through his ears for what seemed like the longest time, and now...he was being taken back to shore.
N-No! No! Don't make me go back there! I can't, no!
But he couldn't do anything, bar muttering a few words weakly, pleadingly.
"No, please, stop, just...just let me-please, don't, just...I-I-I just...want to see...I JUST WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN!"
But nothing was working. As his legs started to struggle, he could feel the bandage slip through the water, making it's way down his leg as the flow of the water apposed his current direction. It was there, and then it wasn't. The salt water stung him, stung him like a hornet burrowing into his skin, and then...
It all faded. The whole facade. He couldn't stand it any longer. The pain really came back to him, all of it. The pain in his leg, the reality of the whole ridiculous situation. The emptyness became bitterness, the bittterness became sorrow, and the sorrow became pain. Pure, unfiltered pain. Once the boy finally reached the shore, he was himself again, and threw wild swings at the two boys that stood with him.
"You FUCKERS! WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? I WAS DOING FINE! I WASN'T EVEN NEAR YOU AT ALL, AND YOU HAD TO BUTT IN! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! YOU DON'T EVEN, KNOW, WHAT, HAPPENED TO ME!"
His rage was uncontrollable, the anger welling up inside of him simply bursting at the seams. How dare they. How dare they do this to him. His whole life, it had been everyone else controlling what he did, his parents, his girlfriend, his friends, and now these two fucking faggots standing there, acting so high and mighty like they had just saved a life! What did they know? What did they know?
"YOU WEREN'T THERE! YOU STAND THERE, YOU MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS, AND YOU JUDGE LIKE SOME FUCKING HIGH AND MIGHTY RICH FAGGOT, BUT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! WHY DID YOU STOP ME? WHY DID YOU FUCKING TRY AND STOP ME? I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE, AND I DIDN'T WANT TO KNOW! I WAS...I WAS...I...was..."
And it all came [color=sandybrown]o[color=tan]u[/color]t[/color].
Again, he was on the sand, and again, he was crying. But it wasn't silent this time; it was monsterous, hysterical, and it was himself again. He didn't hold himself back at all, he just screamed his pain out through his sobs, while clenched up in a tiny little ball on the sand. It was all still too much. He hadn't done it right, nothing had gone right. He just wanted to fix every little mistake he made before this point, this little flicker in time. But he couldn't. It was impossible, fixed. Nothing was going to change. In a few minutes, in a few days, he would still be alone.
"Paige...Paige...PAIGE!"
Her name was like a razor, slicing through the night sky and making his throat hurt too much to bear. It wasn't going to be his saviour from the world anymore; it would only be a refuge in the dead and unknown.
It went on for so long, so very very long, and he didn't give any warning. The people in front of him, they wouldn't understand. Unclenching his fists from the sand, he stretched them inconspicuously, and scrambled in the direction of the fire.
It wasn't long until every element that was hindering Jacob during the day finally caught up to him. He hadn't eaten, he hadn't drunk, he hadn't slept, and he hadn't gotten proper attention for the bullet, still there, throbbing in his leg. So Jacob didn't make it 1 yard past the fire until he finally slowed down, stopped, and passed out on the sand.
((Godmodding and Timeskip approved by both Ben and Chelsea.))
His broken plea would fall on deaf ears. All they had to do was get this boy out of the water and come to his senses, everything would be just fine. However, that deluded thought only lasted for a split second as his voice quickly became louder and stronger from it's just defeated tone.
"...I JUST WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN!"
And just as suddenly as depression turned to a blade, that blade struck a vein. His words were as thick and as red as blood, and the anger behind them was pure fire.
"You FUCKERS! WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? I WAS DOING FINE! I WASN'T EVEN NEAR YOU AT ALL, AND YOU HAD TO BUTT IN! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! YOU DON'T EVEN, KNOW, WHAT, HAPPENED TO ME!"
Jacob's outburst caught Colin completely off guard. The sudden anger, coming from nowhere, a last well of energy; a final resort. Not a moment ago, Jacob was about to take his own life, the ocean oddly symbolic of his depression, wading through it, deeper and deeper to his final release. However this particularly affluent metaphor was lost on the stunned Colin as he was knocked flat onto his butt. In the middle of the ocean. The water reached his neck, and luckily it didn't go any farther. Because Colin probably would have started flailing. Regardless of the fact that Colin was now soaked to his core, Jacob continued his rant. So many insults, so many names that didn't even fit, Colin couldn't quite make sense of all of it. However, the name that he began to scream at the end of it all did spark a memory.
"Paige...Paige...PAIGE!"
".....Fourteenth was a true tragedy as our resident Nazi, Rob Jenkins, broke up a happy lovers' reunion by shooting Paige Strand... which I guess is what her boyfriend is now!"
Oh. Shit.
This realization made Colin's mind go blank as well as his face, completely missing the boy go skittering up the beach like a tarantula on crack. He just wanted to apologize. He suddenly understood why Jacob wanted to end it all.
But for some reason that he couldn't cognate, he couldn't let him do it.
This was the first time in Colin's life that he had trouble making an idea, a thought, a reason into words.
He just couldn't let him do it.
"Wait!" His head swiveled to and fro, his panicked look growing as he couldn't find the figure. And then it hit him how long he had been stunned for. And he looked back to the fire to see Jacob's unconcious body illuminated a soft red and yellow from the lapping flames, and he finally let out a sigh of relief. "Whew... Maybe he'll be a bit calmer when he wakes up... Maybe we can actually help. Now, can you help me up?" He forced out an obviously fake chuckle, thrusting his hand from the dark blue tides, his eyes gingerly falling on Tim. And as his friend reached down to help him up, he debated a quick embrace as thanks for everything he had put up with so far. Surely, it would have been more bearable for Tim to have gone off with some other friend.
But he didn't. Instead, Colin just waded for the shore. "Shit. I only brought one set of clothes... At least I can dry these..." While he mused to himself, he set over towards where Jacob laid in the sand, slowly rolling him over so that he didn't manage to drown on dry land. What he saw about the boy horrified him though; a feature revealed in the light of the fire.
There was a bullet hole. In his leg. Colin's eyes went wide as he began to panic. This wasn't nearly as bad as the injuries that Tony had sustained in the tunnel; Jacob's leg could be saved with proper medical treatment. However, there was no proper medical treatment on this island. However, the did have small first aid kits. In a rush, Colin ripped his from his bag, the shirt of his only other set of clothes falling to the sand as he cast it carelessly aside. "Scissors... Band-Aids... What in the hell are we supposed to do with thes- Oh thank god Gauze." This was just like when he was a kid and mom treated his scrapes. Only on a massive scale. A bit of anti-biotic on the Gauze... And apply the gauze, medical tape to hold it down. Keep the thing from getting infected. However unfortunate, it looked like the worst of the damage had been done. If it was going to get infected... It was probably actually going to get infected, no matter what he did. "We need to get him out of the sand. Do you have a sleeping bag or a blanket or something we can lay down for him?"
Either way, they would sit for a day and await Jacob's recovery. Colin was too emotionally drained and physically tired to move. His current set of clothes ended up draped on sticks and stuck in the sand near the fire to dry, the only other set he had thought to bring adorning his body not a few short minutes after he had tended to the other boy. Every few hours he glanced to Jacob, looking for signs of stirring, looking for any signs of deterioration. He may not have had much of an idea what he was doing, but he sure as hell cared.
His broken plea would fall on deaf ears. All they had to do was get this boy out of the water and come to his senses, everything would be just fine. However, that deluded thought only lasted for a split second as his voice quickly became louder and stronger from it's just defeated tone.
"...I JUST WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN!"
And just as suddenly as depression turned to a blade, that blade struck a vein. His words were as thick and as red as blood, and the anger behind them was pure fire.
"You FUCKERS! WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? I WAS DOING FINE! I WASN'T EVEN NEAR YOU AT ALL, AND YOU HAD TO BUTT IN! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! YOU DON'T EVEN, KNOW, WHAT, HAPPENED TO ME!"
Jacob's outburst caught Colin completely off guard. The sudden anger, coming from nowhere, a last well of energy; a final resort. Not a moment ago, Jacob was about to take his own life, the ocean oddly symbolic of his depression, wading through it, deeper and deeper to his final release. However this particularly affluent metaphor was lost on the stunned Colin as he was knocked flat onto his butt. In the middle of the ocean. The water reached his neck, and luckily it didn't go any farther. Because Colin probably would have started flailing. Regardless of the fact that Colin was now soaked to his core, Jacob continued his rant. So many insults, so many names that didn't even fit, Colin couldn't quite make sense of all of it. However, the name that he began to scream at the end of it all did spark a memory.
"Paige...Paige...PAIGE!"
".....Fourteenth was a true tragedy as our resident Nazi, Rob Jenkins, broke up a happy lovers' reunion by shooting Paige Strand... which I guess is what her boyfriend is now!"
Oh. Shit.
This realization made Colin's mind go blank as well as his face, completely missing the boy go skittering up the beach like a tarantula on crack. He just wanted to apologize. He suddenly understood why Jacob wanted to end it all.
But for some reason that he couldn't cognate, he couldn't let him do it.
This was the first time in Colin's life that he had trouble making an idea, a thought, a reason into words.
He just couldn't let him do it.
"Wait!" His head swiveled to and fro, his panicked look growing as he couldn't find the figure. And then it hit him how long he had been stunned for. And he looked back to the fire to see Jacob's unconcious body illuminated a soft red and yellow from the lapping flames, and he finally let out a sigh of relief. "Whew... Maybe he'll be a bit calmer when he wakes up... Maybe we can actually help. Now, can you help me up?" He forced out an obviously fake chuckle, thrusting his hand from the dark blue tides, his eyes gingerly falling on Tim. And as his friend reached down to help him up, he debated a quick embrace as thanks for everything he had put up with so far. Surely, it would have been more bearable for Tim to have gone off with some other friend.
But he didn't. Instead, Colin just waded for the shore. "Shit. I only brought one set of clothes... At least I can dry these..." While he mused to himself, he set over towards where Jacob laid in the sand, slowly rolling him over so that he didn't manage to drown on dry land. What he saw about the boy horrified him though; a feature revealed in the light of the fire.
There was a bullet hole. In his leg. Colin's eyes went wide as he began to panic. This wasn't nearly as bad as the injuries that Tony had sustained in the tunnel; Jacob's leg could be saved with proper medical treatment. However, there was no proper medical treatment on this island. However, the did have small first aid kits. In a rush, Colin ripped his from his bag, the shirt of his only other set of clothes falling to the sand as he cast it carelessly aside. "Scissors... Band-Aids... What in the hell are we supposed to do with thes- Oh thank god Gauze." This was just like when he was a kid and mom treated his scrapes. Only on a massive scale. A bit of anti-biotic on the Gauze... And apply the gauze, medical tape to hold it down. Keep the thing from getting infected. However unfortunate, it looked like the worst of the damage had been done. If it was going to get infected... It was probably actually going to get infected, no matter what he did. "We need to get him out of the sand. Do you have a sleeping bag or a blanket or something we can lay down for him?"
Either way, they would sit for a day and await Jacob's recovery. Colin was too emotionally drained and physically tired to move. His current set of clothes ended up draped on sticks and stuck in the sand near the fire to dry, the only other set he had thought to bring adorning his body not a few short minutes after he had tended to the other boy. Every few hours he glanced to Jacob, looking for signs of stirring, looking for any signs of deterioration. He may not have had much of an idea what he was doing, but he sure as hell cared.
-
ZombiexCreame*
- Posts: 305
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:29 am
Tim ground his teeth together and continued on his frantic quest to get Jacob to shore. With each shout and yell, his grip only proceeded to grow tighter on Jacob's arms, and his pulls and yanks only strengthened. Once the three were able to reach shore, Tim slowly let go of the boy, but he seemed thoroughly enraged. He took a step away and gaped at the suicidal boy as he yelled expletive after expletive. He was in a rage that didn't seem likely to stop anytime soon.
And Tim could only stare, his eyebrow quirked precariously as he listened. He hadn't expected this. It's not like he thought Jacob would thank Tim for his kindness and go on his merry way, suddenly enchanted with the idea of life, not suicide, but.. In a fit of suicidal thoughts one moment and in a screaming rage the next? It was shocking to say the least.
Tim suddenly felt tired. He was tired of dealing with these emotionally unstable people. Tired of nursing crying people back to normality. Tired of dealing with irrationality and a lack of logic. He was mostly tired of Jacob's yelling. It wasn't like he felt smug in his actions of "saving Jacob's life." Tim didn't even view it as such. He was also sorry that he had butted in on what Jacob viewed as a prime time for dying, but.. Tim wasn't the type to sit around and watch as some dude offed himself. That wasn't his style.
But with the way this guy was yelling, Tim wondered if he even did the right thing at all. Maybe this was all a mistake. Just as he pondered earlier if drowning oneself really would save someone from later heartbreak or a violent death, Tim just wondered if letting Jacob die was a better idea.
"You don't even know! ... You don't even know what happened! ... I was... I was...I...was... ..."
Tim rolled his eyes. He was tired.
"Unless you were out there looking for sand dollars or ATLANTIS, then I think I know!" He paused. Way to be brash. "I, uh, I'm not trying to be mean here, but isn't there a better-" He trailed off and watched as Jacob sunk into the sand and began to cry. This was like Colin v2. Another person to comfort and sympathize with. Tim looked around and realized that he felt almost out of place. Should he begin to cry too? Was there something actually wrong with him? Had he gone sociopathic, too heartless to shed a tear once in awhile? At that thought, his heart went heavy. He couldn't think of a single thing that could possibly sway him to tears right now. Not even the image of Jacob's weeping.
Tim realized he was staring at Jacob like an animal behind a cage. He looked over at Colin with an imploring gaze, as if he was asking for help. A look that seemed to say, "What in the hell are we supposed to do?" Or maybe a look that just further proved how tired he really was.
"Paige?" Tim asked himself when Jacob began to cry her name. It must have been the name of that girl he lost. He wasn't completely aware of who Paige was, but... it must have hurt to lose someone that Tim assumed was very close. Tim's thoughts were so funeralistic right now, it was sickening. Robotic and sensitive. "She was a nice girl, so full of life. So close to dear Jacob, now departed and gone. How shall he ever go on?" Tim shook his head and was about to say something, probably something vaguely comforting and then Jacob made a break for it.
Tim shouted his name and ran after him, but, thankfully, he didn't make it far before collapsing. Tim gave Colin another one of his famous looks but stopped short and offered a clumsy smile. Colin had fallen in the water and was clearly soaked up to the neck. Holding out his hand, he helped the boy up, and the two walked towards Jacob.
Tim watched as Colin examined Jacob's form, and in the flickering light of the campfire, a wound was revealed. Tim was useless when it came to first-aid, so he was completely thankful that Colin took charge in caring for the wound, obviously caused by a bullet, he presumed. Watching as Colin fixed Jacob up, he couldn't help but smile and wonder if this is what it took to take Colin's mind off of Tony's death. Helping someone else in their time of need.. Maybe that would inspire Colin?
After dragging out his old blue sleeping bag for Jacob to rest on (Tim was now thankful that he hadn't thrown away the bag he had packed for the camping trip), the two waited for hours for Jacob to wake up. The wait was filled with silence and restless resting, but there wasn't much else they could do. They couldn't very well save a boy's life and then leave him out here to die.
And Tim could only stare, his eyebrow quirked precariously as he listened. He hadn't expected this. It's not like he thought Jacob would thank Tim for his kindness and go on his merry way, suddenly enchanted with the idea of life, not suicide, but.. In a fit of suicidal thoughts one moment and in a screaming rage the next? It was shocking to say the least.
Tim suddenly felt tired. He was tired of dealing with these emotionally unstable people. Tired of nursing crying people back to normality. Tired of dealing with irrationality and a lack of logic. He was mostly tired of Jacob's yelling. It wasn't like he felt smug in his actions of "saving Jacob's life." Tim didn't even view it as such. He was also sorry that he had butted in on what Jacob viewed as a prime time for dying, but.. Tim wasn't the type to sit around and watch as some dude offed himself. That wasn't his style.
But with the way this guy was yelling, Tim wondered if he even did the right thing at all. Maybe this was all a mistake. Just as he pondered earlier if drowning oneself really would save someone from later heartbreak or a violent death, Tim just wondered if letting Jacob die was a better idea.
"You don't even know! ... You don't even know what happened! ... I was... I was...I...was... ..."
Tim rolled his eyes. He was tired.
"Unless you were out there looking for sand dollars or ATLANTIS, then I think I know!" He paused. Way to be brash. "I, uh, I'm not trying to be mean here, but isn't there a better-" He trailed off and watched as Jacob sunk into the sand and began to cry. This was like Colin v2. Another person to comfort and sympathize with. Tim looked around and realized that he felt almost out of place. Should he begin to cry too? Was there something actually wrong with him? Had he gone sociopathic, too heartless to shed a tear once in awhile? At that thought, his heart went heavy. He couldn't think of a single thing that could possibly sway him to tears right now. Not even the image of Jacob's weeping.
Tim realized he was staring at Jacob like an animal behind a cage. He looked over at Colin with an imploring gaze, as if he was asking for help. A look that seemed to say, "What in the hell are we supposed to do?" Or maybe a look that just further proved how tired he really was.
"Paige?" Tim asked himself when Jacob began to cry her name. It must have been the name of that girl he lost. He wasn't completely aware of who Paige was, but... it must have hurt to lose someone that Tim assumed was very close. Tim's thoughts were so funeralistic right now, it was sickening. Robotic and sensitive. "She was a nice girl, so full of life. So close to dear Jacob, now departed and gone. How shall he ever go on?" Tim shook his head and was about to say something, probably something vaguely comforting and then Jacob made a break for it.
Tim shouted his name and ran after him, but, thankfully, he didn't make it far before collapsing. Tim gave Colin another one of his famous looks but stopped short and offered a clumsy smile. Colin had fallen in the water and was clearly soaked up to the neck. Holding out his hand, he helped the boy up, and the two walked towards Jacob.
Tim watched as Colin examined Jacob's form, and in the flickering light of the campfire, a wound was revealed. Tim was useless when it came to first-aid, so he was completely thankful that Colin took charge in caring for the wound, obviously caused by a bullet, he presumed. Watching as Colin fixed Jacob up, he couldn't help but smile and wonder if this is what it took to take Colin's mind off of Tony's death. Helping someone else in their time of need.. Maybe that would inspire Colin?
After dragging out his old blue sleeping bag for Jacob to rest on (Tim was now thankful that he hadn't thrown away the bag he had packed for the camping trip), the two waited for hours for Jacob to wake up. The wait was filled with silence and restless resting, but there wasn't much else they could do. They couldn't very well save a boy's life and then leave him out here to die.
While it took such a long time, but Jacob Charles finally woke up again.
It was almost like he'd been taken back in time, back to the first day, when he first woke up again. He didn't realise where he was. The last thing he remembered was gettino, you were running. He was going to sit nexyou were going to die. And then, he remembered the sand rushing up to meet him as he fell.
As his eyes forced themselves open, he was...unnervingly quiet. Jacob didn't want to scare the other two guys by suddenly bursting up like some sort of zombie in Dawn of the Dead. The first thing he saw when he pried his eyelids through the gunk encassing them, was the sight of blue. Again, he'd seen it all before.
But his thoughts were of something different.
Where's...where is everyone? Carol?
He didn't know.
Ben?
He left him back at the houses.
Reiko?
He could register something now. He wasn't awake during the announcement, but...she had killed. 4 times.
Amber?
She was gone. Shot in the chest after she tried to make a friend with some Russian chick or something.
Paige? PAIGE?
...just gone.
All his other senses started to work again. His lips, still crusty after almost a day, possibly even more, of sleep, took their first inhale of breath. His fingers, resting on the blue sleeping bag that was, for some odd reason, his most recent bed, started to move ever so slowly. His cap was somewhere down there. He didn't know where, but it was there.
...are those guys still there?
Scanning his peripheral vision, he couldn't see. There was blue, and the ocean, and what seemed to be even more sand. The beach was endlessly lying in either direction, he knew that, he didn't have to get up to find out that fact.
Taking his first real movement, Jacob tilted his neck to his left. The ocean. He knew that, so there was no real reason to look. Stupid him. Tilting further to the other side, he saw them. Colin and Tim.
...now that he was thinking clearly he knew where he recognised Colin. He remembered, this one time, Paige had dragged him to this cafe. She wanted to check it out, and he was dragged along. There was a performer there, on the guitar. He'd been a great player, and performer.
As he remembered, she took him over again. Her touch, her scent, her body. He still longed for something that would never be again, simply living in the past.
But that wasn't what he was supposed to be thinking about. What he was focusing himself on was the fact that, according to a subconcious nagging, there was something he knew about Colin.
Tony Russo.
The announcements named Colin out specifically for his death.
...Colin's a killer?
But no, there was something else that he didn't think about. Something else nagging at his mind. The specific wording of the way the announcement worded it.
The word 'accident' was involved.
So...does this mean something?
There were killers out there, no doubt. RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins had proved tha-
-no.
He knew what he was getting at subconciously now.
There was far too much of a difference between Rob...Jenkins and Colin Falcone.
Rob Jenkins killed because he had the choice.
Colin Falcone: according to the announcments, he wasn't given that choice. As far as Jacob knew, it wasn't his fault. He could rely on that little bit of information just until he started to fray at his wits end.
Colin Falcone was a killer.
But Rob Jenkins was...a murderer.
He wasn't about to let that fact overcome him now that he knew the difference now.
...he also realized it had been such a long time since he'd thought of her.
...I think it's time to move on, Jacob. She's gone. Nothing's going to bring her back again, especially not you lamenting about the fact that nothing is going to bring her back.
...But's she's all I've known, all I've fought for over the past year. She's the reason I made it through school. She's the reason I have...had....friends. I can't...She's never going to forgive me if I forget her.
Rather than staying on this train of thought, it being far too out of his league to comprehend at his mental state, he instead hoisted himself up on his elbows. He was sure they realised he was awake now, so it was time to reestablish his presence in their lives.
"...anyone got some water?" Jacob asked. He was really thirsty.
It was almost like he'd been taken back in time, back to the first day, when he first woke up again. He didn't realise where he was. The last thing he remembered was gettino, you were running. He was going to sit nexyou were going to die. And then, he remembered the sand rushing up to meet him as he fell.
As his eyes forced themselves open, he was...unnervingly quiet. Jacob didn't want to scare the other two guys by suddenly bursting up like some sort of zombie in Dawn of the Dead. The first thing he saw when he pried his eyelids through the gunk encassing them, was the sight of blue. Again, he'd seen it all before.
But his thoughts were of something different.
Where's...where is everyone? Carol?
He didn't know.
Ben?
He left him back at the houses.
Reiko?
He could register something now. He wasn't awake during the announcement, but...she had killed. 4 times.
Amber?
She was gone. Shot in the chest after she tried to make a friend with some Russian chick or something.
Paige? PAIGE?
...just gone.
All his other senses started to work again. His lips, still crusty after almost a day, possibly even more, of sleep, took their first inhale of breath. His fingers, resting on the blue sleeping bag that was, for some odd reason, his most recent bed, started to move ever so slowly. His cap was somewhere down there. He didn't know where, but it was there.
...are those guys still there?
Scanning his peripheral vision, he couldn't see. There was blue, and the ocean, and what seemed to be even more sand. The beach was endlessly lying in either direction, he knew that, he didn't have to get up to find out that fact.
Taking his first real movement, Jacob tilted his neck to his left. The ocean. He knew that, so there was no real reason to look. Stupid him. Tilting further to the other side, he saw them. Colin and Tim.
...now that he was thinking clearly he knew where he recognised Colin. He remembered, this one time, Paige had dragged him to this cafe. She wanted to check it out, and he was dragged along. There was a performer there, on the guitar. He'd been a great player, and performer.
As he remembered, she took him over again. Her touch, her scent, her body. He still longed for something that would never be again, simply living in the past.
But that wasn't what he was supposed to be thinking about. What he was focusing himself on was the fact that, according to a subconcious nagging, there was something he knew about Colin.
Tony Russo.
The announcements named Colin out specifically for his death.
...Colin's a killer?
But no, there was something else that he didn't think about. Something else nagging at his mind. The specific wording of the way the announcement worded it.
The word 'accident' was involved.
So...does this mean something?
There were killers out there, no doubt. RobkillerkillerkillerkillerkillerJenkins had proved tha-
-no.
He knew what he was getting at subconciously now.
There was far too much of a difference between Rob...Jenkins and Colin Falcone.
Rob Jenkins killed because he had the choice.
Colin Falcone: according to the announcments, he wasn't given that choice. As far as Jacob knew, it wasn't his fault. He could rely on that little bit of information just until he started to fray at his wits end.
Colin Falcone was a killer.
But Rob Jenkins was...a murderer.
He wasn't about to let that fact overcome him now that he knew the difference now.
...he also realized it had been such a long time since he'd thought of her.
...I think it's time to move on, Jacob. She's gone. Nothing's going to bring her back again, especially not you lamenting about the fact that nothing is going to bring her back.
...But's she's all I've known, all I've fought for over the past year. She's the reason I made it through school. She's the reason I have...had....friends. I can't...She's never going to forgive me if I forget her.
Rather than staying on this train of thought, it being far too out of his league to comprehend at his mental state, he instead hoisted himself up on his elbows. He was sure they realised he was awake now, so it was time to reestablish his presence in their lives.
"...anyone got some water?" Jacob asked. He was really thirsty.