I can't wash you off my skin...

[Cactus]

((Continued from: I swear it's everywhere, it's everything...))

Time had passed in such a quick manner that Sidney Crosby found himself actually, unbelievably losing track of it. Attributing a lot of that to the fact that he was without a watch, cell phone, or any such instrument that tells time, he didn't do any 'clock-watching' and as such the theory of relativity seemed to apply itself quite well. As Sidney Crosby staggered through the carnage that seemed to surround him in the Woods, he couldn't help but wonder actively what day it even was. Due to the fact that he'd been kidnapped right after hockey practice, he was unsure as to the date, time, or even the place that he currently occupied. It probably attributed to the feeling of confusion that he'd had when he awoke. It had taken stumbling onto a dead body, reading his instruction manual, and meeting a few friendly kids who happened to be in the same preicament that he was in to fully grasp the situation.

And would you look at that. Sidney Crosby outlasted them all. Tobs, Takara, and Chance...all dead.

Sidney hadn't completely left the woods after Dodd had presumably saved his life from the terrorist. His throat still ached, and after he'd bolted, he essentially ended up running in a big circle. He'd ended up back at the edge of the clearing where his battle with Rice had taken place, and had watched in horror as Kaige had raped and then shot down his rescuer. Sid had kept very still and very quiet as the female terrorist had left. He stayed still for another few minutes, and was about to leave the area when the dead rose and stumbled away, mumbling curse words under his breath. He had been in awe at the brass balls that Adam Dodd had seemed to have when he attacked the terrorist, but he was even more in awe that Dodd seemed to be able to survive a shot to the head. He decided against approaching the boy as he'd walked out of the woods, assuming that after what had happened to him, Adam might be in a 'shoot-first, don't bother asking questions' kind of mood. So Sidney had waited even longer.

Once he'd left the woods for the second time, he'd tried to avoid using the paths, which had been his mistake in the past, straying off the paths and getting himself lost. It, of course, had landed him right back in the same clearing that he'd left twice already. Sighing to himself, he sat down and tried to avoid looking at any of the bodies that littered the area. It had been presumably ten days since he'd been kidnapped and forced to kill for his life, and Sidney had to admit that if the experience had done one thing, it'd forced him to learn a lot about himself and his own limitations.

I know that in no uncertain terms am I cut out to be a soldier. I'm a hockey player first and foremost, and it's all that I need to be. It's all that I've ever wanted to do. Killing? Killing is not something that I'm good at. Nor is it something that I want to do.

"And yet..."

Sid shook his head. He'd done it twice already. Granted, Chance's death was an accident - a freak accident, that really couldn't have been avoided. Odds were that he would have died from either the bullet or the terrorist's grasp. And Nevera...as soon as he'd heard Danya's announcement, he'd remembered the name, and knew that it would haunt him for the rest of his natural life. However long, or short that it would be. That had been just him trying to protect himself from an enemy that was all around him. All around him, and nowhere at the same time.

Who am I kidding? I panicked. I saw someone with a weapon, and I shot her down without even thinking. That's what they call manslaughter. Back in the States, I'd be charged. Sent off to jail. God, I wouldn't survive in jail...

"I'd be the piece of meat that all the inmates fought over. The toy. Oh god." The lump in Sidney's throat felt like the size of a beach ball. Thinking about jail made him ponder: what was worse?

This certainly felt like jail.

Sidney didn't have enough time to make any more frightening thoughts about jail when the loudspeakers crackled to life. This perplexed Sidney for a moment, because it was still daytime - the announcements usually happened every morning.

Did they all kill each other off and forget about me? Did I win?

Sidney's notions, though, were quickly put to rest, when Danya addressed them like he would through a normal announcement. Sid could hardly believe his ears when he heard about some of the deaths.

A car chase? Around the island? And the last terrorist...killed by Jack, of all people?

Sidney then balked a little as the thought crossed his mind. Jack had always been really hostile towards him, and had seemed like the kind of person who'd held such anti-killing sentiments. And yet, he was a member of the 'terrorist-killers' club, as Danya had said. Sid couldn't believe it. As he listened further, he frowned as Danya mocked the remaining competitors. He was surprised to hear that he had gained a following, but he sadly sighed, somehow not surprised.

People haven't looked at my actions, all they see of me is the logo on the front of the shirt and the number on the back. They don't realize that I've been a big pussy through this entire ordeal. I've accidentally killed two people. I've been abraisive, lied, and have basically hung on to anyone who could get me further. And yet, people are still cheering for me?

Sid grimaced to himself, and mumbled as Danya mocked Jack O'Connor.

"It's almost pathetic..."

Listening on, he carefully noted what Danya instructed them to do. He was also surprised to learn the exact time. It was mid-afternoon. The sun would be setting soon. Oddly enough, it seemed to set at a different time each day, more than likely because of the fact that each day that passed was a struggle to survive. So now, to end it off, he'd have to make his way to the River. On the tenth day. As Danya signed off and left Sidney alone with his thoughts, he couldn't believe how far he'd really come.

It's down to four. And from here, all I have to do is make my way to the River. The River, where I saw something that'll haunt my dreams forever, where I saw Cody Jenson, a supposed peer of mine raping some poor girl. And then...we buried her. I buried two people there that day. I'm eighteen years old...why am I burying people?

"At least it wasn't you, Sid."

Looking around at his surroundings, he sighed. Sooner or later, he'd have to move out. Grabbing his pack that he'd liberated from the warehouse after the explosion, he looked through it. The damned thing was essentially empty, aside from a bottle of water that he'd been saving, the instruction manual for the game as well as his weapon that was likely still in Jack's possession, a flashlight, one of the heavy police-issue Mag-lites, extra batteries, and a few clips of ammunition for the pistol that he'd dropped somewhere in the woods.

Blinking, Sidney came to think about that pistol. Trying to recall where he'd dropped it might prove to be rather difficult, but it had to have been when the terrorist had attacked him for the first time. He hadn't thought to try and retrieve it, and had managed to come out by the skin of his teeth without it. Going into the endgame with nothing but a heavy flashlight might prove to be a very fatal mistake.

"No, that's no fatal mistake, that'll just get me killed real quick."

Frowning, Sidney stood up and began to wander around the area. The gun couldn't have gone far, unless Dodd had taken it as he'd left, but from what he'd seen, he'd just made a beeline for the nearest path after gathering up his own pack (which Sidney could see was packed to the brim full of weapons).

Come on, Sid. Think. Time isn't on your side, here, and you need this gun if you even want to have a hint of a chance to survive past the end of this thing.

For once on the island, though, Sidney Crosby's luck actually decided to help him out. Perhaps it was through pity, or just the cosmic joker deciding to have a little fun, but after only five minutes of searching, he found the discarded pistol in some grass beside a tree. Checking the gun, it was still fully loaded, which meant that Sidney only had three clips of ammunition left - the one in his gun and the two in his pack. It wasn't nearly enough, but if he used it wisely and actually managed to aim properly at whatever he might be shooting at, he might have a fighting chance. Looking around the area one last time, he gathered his pack, and thought long and hard about what he would do.

"I guess there really isn't much else that I can do. I have to head to the River. Where everything began - all my troubles. I guess it'll end up being the place where everything ends - for better, or for worse."

And as Sidney Crosby began the trek to the River, he could only hope to himself that things would somehow manage to turn out for the better - that the tides would swing in his favour. Somehow, Sidney Crosby hoped against hope that despite his cowardice, he would somehow manage to outlast three other people, three of the most determined people that he'd ever met. It'd be hard, and Sidney had to admit that he had his doubts. But of course, after all that - it simply came back to hockey.

They don't call me the 'Next One' for nothing, do they?

((Continued in ENDGAME))