Another Place, Another Time

[Polybius]

((Billy Trevino continued from Don't Stray off the Path))

He raced against the voice, pushing himself deeper and deeper into the woods. It had been a while since he'd last heard it. Was it being quiet, or had it run so far ahead he could no longer hear? Or, maybe, Billy was the one who had so far ahead. Was so far ahead, he meant. Running. Anyway, all that mattered was going as fast as he can toward it. The place. He didn't even have to look at the map to know where it was anymore. He could feel it.

The journey wasn't getting any easier. The woods were getting thicker and thicker. He trees more hostile. He scrapped himself on branches a few times while running, but kept going. He couldn't let them get to him. Even if he was bleeding. From a cut in his hand, blood trickling down, from his hand to the soil. He stared and-

-And he tripped over a root while staring at his hand. Face first into the dirt. It tasted disgusting. He pushed himself back onto his knees and wiped off his face. His nose hurt. Shit, was it broken? It didn't feel broken. But what if it was? That wouldn't be good. He was distracted by a feeling of goosebumps on his arm that was still touching the ground. He looked, and was horrified at what he saw. Tiny little bugs, gnats or something, digging themselves out of the dirt and crawling up his arm. He tried to shake them off, but there were hundreds. He wasn't afraid of bugs, usually, but he didn't like them crawling on him. He tried to flick them off, then he tried punching his arm again and again. Nothing worked.

He feel onto his back, holding his arm above him. He could feel tears coming to his eyes. What the hell was going on? The whole of reality had seemingly turned against him, out of nowhere. He knew he couldn't just sit and cry, though, he had to get up and... and... oh, right, he had to get to... somewhere. Wait, why? Nothing made sense anymore. This dumb rich people island was ridiculous. It felt like he was having a... bad trip...

Wait

He blinked through the tears. He looked at his arm, held to the sky. No bugs. Just bruises and a cut on his hand. It was... he was drugged, wasn't he? He didn't know how, but it would explain... everything. Had Joanne done it? He wouldn't be surprised. That bitch. Good way to get rid of him. He stared at the canopy of trees above him. The few beams of light coming through seemed to dim. In the corners of his eyes, he thought he saw the trees twitching, leaning closer, ready to take advantage of the darkness. This wasn't real, he told himself. Joanne had wanted him to be afraid of the trees. There was nothing to fear, except for the other people here. The violence. The treachery. Billy knew he should be getting up, doing... something other than lying here in the woods, but his limbs felt so heavy. All of the energy that had brought him here... it... he couldn't feel it. He was alone, exhausted, tripping balls... He just wanted it to end...

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Danya's obnoxious voice roused Billy from his sleep. The light shown through the trees, and Billy found himself lying in the dirt. He was still alive, a bit of a shock considering how defenseless he must have been. Hell, he wasn't complaining. He stayed in place as Danya listed off the latest killers and victims. Shit, they were really piling up. One stood out to him above all. Kyle had been killed by Violet. His best friend, who he'd abandoned them to go with, shot him dead. She was Billy's friend, too... or had been. He couldn't count on anyone anymore, clearly.

He sat up, grabbing his bags that he thankfully hadn't abandoned while tripping out and running after forest ghosts. His head hurt, his arms hurt, everything hurt, really. His ego was hurt real bad. How could he have been so stupid? He should've been watching all of his food and drink. He should've have been alert at all times, he was on death island for fuck's sake. It... it was his water. It must have been. He had to dump out his unsealed water bottle. In the light of day, he wasn't sure if the culprit was really Joanne or if it was someone else who'd been watching them, but it hardly mattered. The whole group thing clearly didn't work out for him. He'd been on edge after the stuff with Mackenzie running off and Kyle ditching them, and this was the third strike. One of his allies might have sabotaged him... or at the very least, might've distracted him while someone else sabotaged him. It was safer to go alone. He knew he could trust himself. If he found someone who really was competent and had an idea of how to escape, he'd join but with them, but otherwise... clearly grouping up with random people because they seemed nice had caused him nothing but stress.

He'd caused the others some stress, too. He remembered spraying Mac in the eyes, then running off. It was... he'd been ticked at her before, but it wasn't on purpose. Really. Still, it was bad. He'd have to apologize if he ever saw her again. It seemed unlikely.

Billy picked himself up and dusted himself off. He looked over his scrapes. His hand didn't look nearly as bad as it had seemed in the moment, but he knew it was best to care of it anyway. where to go from there was an open question. He didn't know where he was now. His apparent goal was still finding some sort of escape, but his already flimsy hopes had dwindled to almost nothing by now. So many of his classmates had turned rogue and started murdering each other. But what else was he supposed to do? Wait to die? No, he'd be fighting until the end. Even if it was all blatantly futile...

Urgh, this fucking sucked.

((Billy Trevino continued elsewhere))