"You sure you don't want a pill?"
Sleep normally sounded nice. That much hadn't changed from before the island, at least. Yuka looked forward to the dreams, most of all.
But, another day of just coexisting with Teresa, another night just spent going to sleep without a word sounded unappealing.
She wanted another night spent stumbling around. She wanted to do something dumb and regrettable.
She wanted to feel different.
"Feels like we haven't had fun in months, really."
Ron Gets a Bath As Well, Whether He Wants To or Not
Day 8 night; private
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm..."
A hand flopped out and unfurled off the edge of the couch.
"Sure. YOLO."
A hand flopped out and unfurled off the edge of the couch.
"Sure. YOLO."
Yuka smiled. Her cheeks felt odd. The muscles felt unused.
She took two pills from the bag, threw it back to Teresa. Some pills fell out along the way, she'd forgotten to close the bag.
"Ah fuck."
She shrugged.
"What's the dosage on this thing, by the way?"
She took two pills from the bag, threw it back to Teresa. Some pills fell out along the way, she'd forgotten to close the bag.
"Ah fuck."
She shrugged.
"What's the dosage on this thing, by the way?"
The bag hit smack dab into her chest as a few more pills bounced out and onto the floor. The girl snatched the bag and sat back upright, digging in and grabbing a single pill before setting the bag down on the floor.
"Probably best to one and done it, just in case. Hand me a water, too?"
"Probably best to one and done it, just in case. Hand me a water, too?"
Teresa did that a lot. More than she needed to. Their supply of water was finite, even with the extra resources Yuka had been able to collect.
She pulled out a bottle of water. Yuka frowned for a second. It was probably Yuki's or Yuko's, at this point. Yuka's had long ago run out.
"Yeah sure."
She handed it over, this time.
No use crying over spilled milk. Or water, actually. They could find, rob water from other people. Such was the island.
"Cheers, I guess."
She inserted a pill into her mouth, gulped it down with water.
She pulled out a bottle of water. Yuka frowned for a second. It was probably Yuki's or Yuko's, at this point. Yuka's had long ago run out.
"Yeah sure."
She handed it over, this time.
No use crying over spilled milk. Or water, actually. They could find, rob water from other people. Such was the island.
"Cheers, I guess."
She inserted a pill into her mouth, gulped it down with water.
And the other girl followed suit. "Cheers," she said, gulping down water as it rushed past the pill winched between her teeth. She faked a cough and spat into her hand before lying back down and ditching the pill in between the cushions.
The next several minutes passed agonizingly slow.
"...These pills ain't shit."
The next several minutes passed agonizingly slow.
"...These pills ain't shit."
She'd started looking at her stumps again when Teresa spoke.
"Ugh. Fucking con artist."
She'd cut Michael's hands off too, if she found him. Symbolism, or some shit like that.
She rolled her eyes.
"You can't sue on this island, can you?"
"Ugh. Fucking con artist."
She'd cut Michael's hands off too, if she found him. Symbolism, or some shit like that.
She rolled her eyes.
"You can't sue on this island, can you?"
The girl lying down sensibly chuckled. "Don't know if we could sue for getting oregano'd but we can try."
Another yawn, another stretch. "Sucks about that, but yeah... I can barely keep my eyes open. Mind taking first watch again? I appresh."
Another yawn, another stretch. "Sucks about that, but yeah... I can barely keep my eyes open. Mind taking first watch again? I appresh."
((edited as of April 11))
She made her laugh. That was something, at least. Yuka had started to smile a bit more, but all good things on this island were fleeting. Teresa laid herself down on the couch, volunteered her for first watch, and closed her eyes without waiting for a reply.
“Fine. Sure,” Yuka said anyways.
“Fuckin’ typical,” she muttered to herself.
And so she settled down. Slouched into the couch, made herself as comfy as possible on a couch without a cushion. Breathed through her mouth because there was a pile of guts somewhere inside, the smell of bile and rust and decay was all too familiar, she wanted to throw up.
She wanted to sleep, too. That much, at least, hadn’t changed from before the island. It wasn’t that she felt tired. Her leg was bouncing up and down, more than usual, that was the one effect the pill seemed to have. And, her fingers were drumming against the tarp covering the couch springs. Just this surplus of energy, being discharged uselessly, when she wanted so badly to sleep.
Not to rest, keep in mind.
Dreams were the one way she had of making new experiences, new memories with Yuki and Yuko, after they had died. Those unconscious hazy memories, the result of synapses firing off and linking together random figments physically situated next to each other in the brain, the psychological equivalent of chop suey, were all she had left. And she consumed these dreams, these fragments greedily, whenever she woke up. She took up every half-second she could remember, she recollected, recalled, engraved it in the gray matter of her brain, on the inside of her skull, and repeated, once more.
She was stuck with the reruns now, she guessed.
The last dream she had had was before the day's announcements, before they ran into Faith. She had dreamed that they were back in school, this time, Yuka and Yuko and Yuki, and they were working on some group project, something about English, some book, even though the three of them didn't share a class anymore. And, Yuka hadn't remembered the project for some reason, but the deadline was today, so, like, she didn't have any plans, right? But Yuko had a plan, she always did, and Yuki was reassuring Yuka and telling her that everything would be okay, and so she felt scared and worried and anxious but things would be fine because Yuko and Yuki were there. And then, there was some student election and they were voting, and the hallways felt oddly empty, like it was the last few weeks of school and the teachers didn't have anything to make them do, and then they were back home eating green tea cookies, but she wanted to go back to school because she missed her friends, and she was sad that they weren't around anymore and they wouldn't be around anymore. And then, something about
She didn't remember anymore. It didn't matter. It was something stupid like that.
She sat there, hugging her knees, while Teresa tossed and turned in the midst of her own dreams. The dream ran through her head a million times, a million miles per hour, fast-forwarded, slowed down, reversed, chopped and rearranged and re-rearranged into its original order, each individual scene and image and picture brought into focus. She had to stop eventually, though.
Semantic satiation is the term for when you repeat a word so much that it loses meaning. Semantic, relating to language, satiation, when one is satisfied to the full, usually relating to food. She'd learned the phrase from Yuki, it had been a random fun fact from her. The phrase was close, but it didn't fit in this situation. For one, these were dreams, not words, and for two, she would never be satisfied, she would never have enough. But, if she kept on repeating the dream, it would lose its meaning. If not Yuka herself, her brain, at least, would tire of it. The dream would, paradoxically, fade away, the more she tried to hold onto it.
Yuki would fade away, the more she tried to hold onto h—
She took the other pill she had in her hand, swallowed it dry. It had been long enough that the first pill should've worked by then, but maybe the dosage was supposed to be a bit more than one. Maybe if she took enough, things would finally feel different in a good way. Or maybe it was just another sugar pill Michael had given Teresa. Who knew?
---
Time passed. Sleep failed to arrive. It had probably been an hour or so since Teresa went to sleep. With no one to talk to, nothing to read, no reflective surface for her to look at while she fixed her makeup, Yuka had nothing to do. It was weird. The island was traumatizing in every aspect, and if she ever got off, the memories of this place would never leave her, but at the same time, it could be so boring.
She left Teresa behind in the cabin, walked out onto the deck of the yacht. The streak of blood left by Ron's corpse made a path for Yuka to follow, taking her all the way to the rail of the boat. She took extra care to breathe through her mouth now; Stepney's hollowed out body was right below her.
The night sky stretched on above the boat, and it was endless and beautiful, and it was cold and empty. The stars shined like broken shards of glass glinting at noon. Yuka had to tilt her head up to avoid the sight of Ron's body bobbing gently in the waves, but once she did that, she could take it all in. The Chattanooga city lights typically outshone the stars, and there hadn't been time nor motivation to pay much attention to the sky, but there was nothing else to do so. This was nice. She could live with this.
The sky had been clear earlier in the day also, she remembered. Not a cloud in sight. After the continuous rain that had marked their first few days on the island, the piercing blue had been a nice change of pace. The storms had been gone for a few days, actually, the sun had beat down on her skin, bit down and marked her nape red, but she'd only looked up earlier. And, it was a clear, perfect blue, she remembered, blue like the color of Yuki's shirt, she idly noted at first.
Blue, like the color of Yuki's shirt, she thought about a bit more.
When had she worn that shirt again?
oh god
she had worn it at home, even though it was meant to be an outside shirt, because she really liked that shirt,
she had worn it at school, particularly when she had to present a book report in English class, Yuka always said it was a really good semi-formal shirt,
she had worn it at the library, before she'd tutor her fellow students, because Yuka had said it looked semi-formal,
she had worn it at the bus, heading home, she would've worn something lighter but the rest of her clothes were laundry,
she had worn it
after
the bus
Yuka lowered to the floor, sat down, dug her nails into the wooden floorboards.
She should've been happier, right? The time she had spent with Yuki was more than what she'd had with Yuko, another thought that touched and poked at the edges of the hole inside her, set the nerves exposed aflame once more. And, she had had so much time with her. She had spent literal days by her side. They had walked together in the forest, they met with Demetri, gunshots, Yuki blThey had walked together in the forest, they walked among the houses, they found YukoThey had walked together in the forestThey had walked together, Yuki bled, she had said it's okay, it wasn't, she bled, shediThey had walked together, they met Demetri, she had shouted at him for some reason, she had shouted at Yuki, she had stormed off, gunshoThey had walked togetherThey had walked togetherTheyhadwalkedtogetherTheyhadwalkedtogetherTheyTheyThey
Yuka had been walking, Sal and Manuel in front, away from her (what had happened to them? she wondered, Sal, on the grou)she looked up, she saw that blue shirt, she ran, she wrapped her arms around Yuki's waist, she felt warm, she wrapped her arms around Yuki's waist, she felt cold, wet, sticky, she had said it's okShe ran, she wrapped her arms around Yuki, Yuka grinned, she felt like herself, her sister was here, her sister was next to her, she was waking up from the cold tiled floor, Erika, where is Yuki, why is there bloodShe ran, wrapped her arms around Yuki, blooShe ran, wrapped her arms around Yuki, "It's OK"SHE RAN, WRAPPED HER AROUND YUKI SHE RAN SHE RAN SHE RAN
---
Time passed. It tended to after moments like that.
Yuka looked up, eventually, eyes raw, throat raw.
She cried harder than she had yesterday, she realized eventually. So much for progress.
She walked back into the cabin, steps slow, silent. Teresa was still asleep. Or at least pretending to sleep. Either action was in character for her.
Teresa didn't give a fuck about Yuka, she knew that. She'd been known to everyone else as the pretty triplet, not the smart one, but she wasn't an idiot. The girl been this close to leaving Yuka to get her legs broken. No friend or ally did that.
She'd come along with Teresa, even after seeing her be an accessory to murder, because she'd wanted something different. But, well, she was still miserable. She was miserable here, she'd be miserable alone, so what was the point in staying?
Yuka walked over to the couch Teresa laid on, took the dimebag of pills lying next to her. Teresa didn't stir.
Teresa was just as shit at planning as Yuka was, so what was the point in staying?
She took the water bottle Teresa had drunken from earlier, stowed it away in her bag. It was Yuki's, or Yuko's maybe, it belonged with her.
The days were just as silent with Teresa as they were without, so what was the point in staying?
The nail gun would be in a pocket of the bag, she guessed. She remembered seeing a distinct L-shaped lump. The weapon wasn't that good at a far range, but it would allow her more distance than the knife.
She imagined leaving with those things, wading across the water back to the beach, and finally, eventually, going to sleep alone.
For the second time of many.
If she left Teresa, Yuka knew she wouldn't find anyone else. Everyone regarded her with distrust after Roxie, and they were right to. She'd barely spared her friend any thought after killing her, what kind of person did that? But, if she left, then she would wake up alone again and again and again until she died.
The nights weren't as lonely with Teresa, at least. She wasn't Yuko, she wasn't Yuki, she wasn't even a friend, but she was someone.
The night she'd spent stumbling around, just being happy in her presence, was long gone. She'd never feel like that again. But this, right now, was better than nothing, she told herself.
She stepped back from Teresa, left the nail gun in its place. The water and the dimebag stayed with her.
And so, she played catch with herself. One-handed, the other hand was out of commission. Tossing it into the air over and over. Daring herself to just about graze the ceiling. Waiting for the sun to rise, for light to filter through the windows.
Eventually, she missed. The bag fell with a thump.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in No Exit))
She made her laugh. That was something, at least. Yuka had started to smile a bit more, but all good things on this island were fleeting. Teresa laid herself down on the couch, volunteered her for first watch, and closed her eyes without waiting for a reply.
“Fine. Sure,” Yuka said anyways.
“Fuckin’ typical,” she muttered to herself.
And so she settled down. Slouched into the couch, made herself as comfy as possible on a couch without a cushion. Breathed through her mouth because there was a pile of guts somewhere inside, the smell of bile and rust and decay was all too familiar, she wanted to throw up.
She wanted to sleep, too. That much, at least, hadn’t changed from before the island. It wasn’t that she felt tired. Her leg was bouncing up and down, more than usual, that was the one effect the pill seemed to have. And, her fingers were drumming against the tarp covering the couch springs. Just this surplus of energy, being discharged uselessly, when she wanted so badly to sleep.
Not to rest, keep in mind.
Dreams were the one way she had of making new experiences, new memories with Yuki and Yuko, after they had died. Those unconscious hazy memories, the result of synapses firing off and linking together random figments physically situated next to each other in the brain, the psychological equivalent of chop suey, were all she had left. And she consumed these dreams, these fragments greedily, whenever she woke up. She took up every half-second she could remember, she recollected, recalled, engraved it in the gray matter of her brain, on the inside of her skull, and repeated, once more.
She was stuck with the reruns now, she guessed.
The last dream she had had was before the day's announcements, before they ran into Faith. She had dreamed that they were back in school, this time, Yuka and Yuko and Yuki, and they were working on some group project, something about English, some book, even though the three of them didn't share a class anymore. And, Yuka hadn't remembered the project for some reason, but the deadline was today, so, like, she didn't have any plans, right? But Yuko had a plan, she always did, and Yuki was reassuring Yuka and telling her that everything would be okay, and so she felt scared and worried and anxious but things would be fine because Yuko and Yuki were there. And then, there was some student election and they were voting, and the hallways felt oddly empty, like it was the last few weeks of school and the teachers didn't have anything to make them do, and then they were back home eating green tea cookies, but she wanted to go back to school because she missed her friends, and she was sad that they weren't around anymore and they wouldn't be around anymore. And then, something about
She didn't remember anymore. It didn't matter. It was something stupid like that.
She sat there, hugging her knees, while Teresa tossed and turned in the midst of her own dreams. The dream ran through her head a million times, a million miles per hour, fast-forwarded, slowed down, reversed, chopped and rearranged and re-rearranged into its original order, each individual scene and image and picture brought into focus. She had to stop eventually, though.
Semantic satiation is the term for when you repeat a word so much that it loses meaning. Semantic, relating to language, satiation, when one is satisfied to the full, usually relating to food. She'd learned the phrase from Yuki, it had been a random fun fact from her. The phrase was close, but it didn't fit in this situation. For one, these were dreams, not words, and for two, she would never be satisfied, she would never have enough. But, if she kept on repeating the dream, it would lose its meaning. If not Yuka herself, her brain, at least, would tire of it. The dream would, paradoxically, fade away, the more she tried to hold onto it.
Yuki would fade away, the more she tried to hold onto h—
She took the other pill she had in her hand, swallowed it dry. It had been long enough that the first pill should've worked by then, but maybe the dosage was supposed to be a bit more than one. Maybe if she took enough, things would finally feel different in a good way. Or maybe it was just another sugar pill Michael had given Teresa. Who knew?
---
Time passed. Sleep failed to arrive. It had probably been an hour or so since Teresa went to sleep. With no one to talk to, nothing to read, no reflective surface for her to look at while she fixed her makeup, Yuka had nothing to do. It was weird. The island was traumatizing in every aspect, and if she ever got off, the memories of this place would never leave her, but at the same time, it could be so boring.
She left Teresa behind in the cabin, walked out onto the deck of the yacht. The streak of blood left by Ron's corpse made a path for Yuka to follow, taking her all the way to the rail of the boat. She took extra care to breathe through her mouth now; Stepney's hollowed out body was right below her.
The night sky stretched on above the boat, and it was endless and beautiful, and it was cold and empty. The stars shined like broken shards of glass glinting at noon. Yuka had to tilt her head up to avoid the sight of Ron's body bobbing gently in the waves, but once she did that, she could take it all in. The Chattanooga city lights typically outshone the stars, and there hadn't been time nor motivation to pay much attention to the sky, but there was nothing else to do so. This was nice. She could live with this.
The sky had been clear earlier in the day also, she remembered. Not a cloud in sight. After the continuous rain that had marked their first few days on the island, the piercing blue had been a nice change of pace. The storms had been gone for a few days, actually, the sun had beat down on her skin, bit down and marked her nape red, but she'd only looked up earlier. And, it was a clear, perfect blue, she remembered, blue like the color of Yuki's shirt, she idly noted at first.
Blue, like the color of Yuki's shirt, she thought about a bit more.
When had she worn that shirt again?
oh god
she had worn it at home, even though it was meant to be an outside shirt, because she really liked that shirt,
she had worn it at school, particularly when she had to present a book report in English class, Yuka always said it was a really good semi-formal shirt,
she had worn it at the library, before she'd tutor her fellow students, because Yuka had said it looked semi-formal,
she had worn it at the bus, heading home, she would've worn something lighter but the rest of her clothes were laundry,
she had worn it
after
the bus
Yuka lowered to the floor, sat down, dug her nails into the wooden floorboards.
She should've been happier, right? The time she had spent with Yuki was more than what she'd had with Yuko, another thought that touched and poked at the edges of the hole inside her, set the nerves exposed aflame once more. And, she had had so much time with her. She had spent literal days by her side. They had walked together in the forest, they met with Demetri, gunshots, Yuki blThey had walked together in the forest, they walked among the houses, they found YukoThey had walked together in the forestThey had walked together, Yuki bled, she had said it's okay, it wasn't, she bled, shediThey had walked together, they met Demetri, she had shouted at him for some reason, she had shouted at Yuki, she had stormed off, gunshoThey had walked togetherThey had walked togetherTheyhadwalkedtogetherTheyhadwalkedtogetherTheyTheyThey
Yuka had been walking, Sal and Manuel in front, away from her (what had happened to them? she wondered, Sal, on the grou)she looked up, she saw that blue shirt, she ran, she wrapped her arms around Yuki's waist, she felt warm, she wrapped her arms around Yuki's waist, she felt cold, wet, sticky, she had said it's okShe ran, she wrapped her arms around Yuki, Yuka grinned, she felt like herself, her sister was here, her sister was next to her, she was waking up from the cold tiled floor, Erika, where is Yuki, why is there bloodShe ran, wrapped her arms around Yuki, blooShe ran, wrapped her arms around Yuki, "It's OK"SHE RAN, WRAPPED HER AROUND YUKI SHE RAN SHE RAN SHE RAN
---
Time passed. It tended to after moments like that.
Yuka looked up, eventually, eyes raw, throat raw.
She cried harder than she had yesterday, she realized eventually. So much for progress.
She walked back into the cabin, steps slow, silent. Teresa was still asleep. Or at least pretending to sleep. Either action was in character for her.
Teresa didn't give a fuck about Yuka, she knew that. She'd been known to everyone else as the pretty triplet, not the smart one, but she wasn't an idiot. The girl been this close to leaving Yuka to get her legs broken. No friend or ally did that.
She'd come along with Teresa, even after seeing her be an accessory to murder, because she'd wanted something different. But, well, she was still miserable. She was miserable here, she'd be miserable alone, so what was the point in staying?
Yuka walked over to the couch Teresa laid on, took the dimebag of pills lying next to her. Teresa didn't stir.
Teresa was just as shit at planning as Yuka was, so what was the point in staying?
She took the water bottle Teresa had drunken from earlier, stowed it away in her bag. It was Yuki's, or Yuko's maybe, it belonged with her.
The days were just as silent with Teresa as they were without, so what was the point in staying?
The nail gun would be in a pocket of the bag, she guessed. She remembered seeing a distinct L-shaped lump. The weapon wasn't that good at a far range, but it would allow her more distance than the knife.
She imagined leaving with those things, wading across the water back to the beach, and finally, eventually, going to sleep alone.
For the second time of many.
If she left Teresa, Yuka knew she wouldn't find anyone else. Everyone regarded her with distrust after Roxie, and they were right to. She'd barely spared her friend any thought after killing her, what kind of person did that? But, if she left, then she would wake up alone again and again and again until she died.
The nights weren't as lonely with Teresa, at least. She wasn't Yuko, she wasn't Yuki, she wasn't even a friend, but she was someone.
The night she'd spent stumbling around, just being happy in her presence, was long gone. She'd never feel like that again. But this, right now, was better than nothing, she told herself.
She stepped back from Teresa, left the nail gun in its place. The water and the dimebag stayed with her.
And so, she played catch with herself. One-handed, the other hand was out of commission. Tossing it into the air over and over. Daring herself to just about graze the ceiling. Waiting for the sun to rise, for light to filter through the windows.
Eventually, she missed. The bag fell with a thump.
((Yuka Hayashibara continues in No Exit))
SLEEPY BITCH shot awake mid-snore. She fell back asleep quickly before Yuka could say anything.
((continued at another point of no return))
((continued at another point of no return))