Iris recoiled as June advanced on her, heart leaping into her throat when June transitioned from crying to screaming, right up in her face. Just like the people in the basement, just like people back in school. All her confidence evaporated just like her good mood the other day when she fired the gun.
Why did she even try? If she'd been thinking more clearly about the potential consequences, she wouldn't have stood up for herself at all.
"Okay!" She squeaked, quickly backpedaling both verbally and physically from June. In a flash, she saw June in her mind's eye, shoving her again, throwing her to the ground, and not stopping with just that this time. If Iris didn't do what June wanted, she was just going to end up laying beaten and bloody in the snow, before the boys could come to her rescue.
"O-okay," she said again, her voice shrinking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I believe you. Please-" don't hurt me. The rest of the sentence died on her lips for fear that saying it out loud would speak it into being.
She was shaking in earnest now; from fear, yes, but also from the tiny, burning ember of resentment in the pit of her chest. Iris was so, so- fucking tired of having to be afraid and having to play along because if she didn't, something horrible would happen. She gripped the strap of her bag tightly with both hands, dropping her gaze to the ground. As long as she could keep track of the space between the two of them, she would be safe.
Shawn's Marvelous Medicine
Day 6 - Morning (Open)
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Oh.
She'd done it again.
There was a cocktail of catharsis and regret that churned within June, like it always did during these moments. The temperature within June plummeted until it matched the chilly air around them. The steam that had billowed from June's nose lessened, until it hardly seemed like she was breathing at all. She withdrew back from Iris, walked back the same number of steps she'd advanced.
She should've listened to her gut when it told her to run away. She hadn't fixed anything.
Her mouth twitched, like she wanted to say something. She decided against.
Wordlessly, she turned around, and made her way back to the dark tunnel entrance she'd come from.
She took her first step down the stairs.
She'd done it again.
There was a cocktail of catharsis and regret that churned within June, like it always did during these moments. The temperature within June plummeted until it matched the chilly air around them. The steam that had billowed from June's nose lessened, until it hardly seemed like she was breathing at all. She withdrew back from Iris, walked back the same number of steps she'd advanced.
She should've listened to her gut when it told her to run away. She hadn't fixed anything.
Her mouth twitched, like she wanted to say something. She decided against.
Wordlessly, she turned around, and made her way back to the dark tunnel entrance she'd come from.
She took her first step down the stairs.
June just. Turned away. She just started down the stairs and didn't say anything more, and Iris just watched her go, white-knuckling the strap of her bag and trembling from head to toe. Her face had gone pale, and she had to look petrified, but inside she was seething.
All of that, and Iris just gave in again and then let her go. She wanted to shout after June, to tell her that she couldn't just walk away after all of that, after she tracked Iris down just to demand that Iris ease her conscience after all that she had done. All that she was going to do.
Because there was absolutely no doubt in Iris's mind that June would go on to hurt someone else. How could someone get so angry like that, even in the middle of admitting that she was in the wrong, and not go on to hurt someone again? What was going to happen when she ran into someone who wouldn't back down like Iris?
Tomorrow, or the day after, Iris would hear June's name. She was absolutely certain of it, and she didn't know who else's name would be read out alongside June's, but there would be somebody. Someone like Richard or Darryl or Shawn, who would stand their ground for themselves or for somebody who had been hurt before. Someone like Dani, who unhappy people like June loved to try to tear down.
Or even another Iris, someone who did everything that June wanted, but it just wouldn't be good enough that time. Anything could be the cause. Anything at all.
She was so sure of it, but she couldn't say anything. Her fear and her emotions welled up and choked her. Maybe it was for the best; maybe that was to save herself from whatever June might do next, no matter how much Iris wanted to scream back at her.
Could she...
Could she really just save herself at the expense of whoever June might come across next?
Iris watched June descend one step, then another. That put them almost level in height.
She could see where June's path led. In that moment, she saw everything so clearly.
She saw a solution.
As June shifted, lifted her foot to take another step, Iris took a step in turn, and she didn't stop. She closed the distance between herself and the stairs just like she was taking off for a sprint in volleyball practice, and she didn't let herself think. She just threw her arms out and shoved June from behind as hard as she could.
All of that, and Iris just gave in again and then let her go. She wanted to shout after June, to tell her that she couldn't just walk away after all of that, after she tracked Iris down just to demand that Iris ease her conscience after all that she had done. All that she was going to do.
Because there was absolutely no doubt in Iris's mind that June would go on to hurt someone else. How could someone get so angry like that, even in the middle of admitting that she was in the wrong, and not go on to hurt someone again? What was going to happen when she ran into someone who wouldn't back down like Iris?
Tomorrow, or the day after, Iris would hear June's name. She was absolutely certain of it, and she didn't know who else's name would be read out alongside June's, but there would be somebody. Someone like Richard or Darryl or Shawn, who would stand their ground for themselves or for somebody who had been hurt before. Someone like Dani, who unhappy people like June loved to try to tear down.
Or even another Iris, someone who did everything that June wanted, but it just wouldn't be good enough that time. Anything could be the cause. Anything at all.
She was so sure of it, but she couldn't say anything. Her fear and her emotions welled up and choked her. Maybe it was for the best; maybe that was to save herself from whatever June might do next, no matter how much Iris wanted to scream back at her.
Could she...
Could she really just save herself at the expense of whoever June might come across next?
Iris watched June descend one step, then another. That put them almost level in height.
She could see where June's path led. In that moment, she saw everything so clearly.
She saw a solution.
As June shifted, lifted her foot to take another step, Iris took a step in turn, and she didn't stop. She closed the distance between herself and the stairs just like she was taking off for a sprint in volleyball practice, and she didn't let herself think. She just threw her arms out and shoved June from behind as hard as she could.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
June didn't even have time to scream, or look behind herself.
A crescendo of footsteps, a shove, the rush of air past her ears.
Her left arm outstretched to catch her fall.
crack
The last thing June heard was the sickeningly familiar sound of someone's head, her head, smacking against the stone floor.
And then everything went black.
A crescendo of footsteps, a shove, the rush of air past her ears.
Her left arm outstretched to catch her fall.
crack
The last thing June heard was the sickeningly familiar sound of someone's head, her head, smacking against the stone floor.
And then everything went black.
Oh.
Just as quickly as always, the wave broke over Iris and her brief fugue state was swept away. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs, arms still outstretched, and stared forward at the dim shape crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.
"June-" Her voice cracked.
No answer. Iris wasn't sure June even could have heard her.
"June?"
Nothing but the wind.
"Oh no."
Inside. She had to get inside, she had to to get- no, no, Richard had wanted to give her the gun, and look what she had done even without it, even if she'd had to-
What would he say to her?
How would he look at her?
No, no, she couldn't. She couldn't go back in and face him, face any of them, she had to-
Get away.
She needed to do that, needed to run, but she only toddled back a step from the tunnel stairs, and then her legs would move no further.
Just as quickly as always, the wave broke over Iris and her brief fugue state was swept away. She stood frozen at the top of the stairs, arms still outstretched, and stared forward at the dim shape crumpled at the bottom of the stairs.
"June-" Her voice cracked.
No answer. Iris wasn't sure June even could have heard her.
"June?"
Nothing but the wind.
"Oh no."
Inside. She had to get inside, she had to to get- no, no, Richard had wanted to give her the gun, and look what she had done even without it, even if she'd had to-
What would he say to her?
How would he look at her?
No, no, she couldn't. She couldn't go back in and face him, face any of them, she had to-
Get away.
She needed to do that, needed to run, but she only toddled back a step from the tunnel stairs, and then her legs would move no further.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Iris and June made their way outside and Richard had okayed the whole deal but Darryl could feel and see the tension that came over Iris when the bigger girl appeared. It struck him as a weird idea to let them go out and parlay over whatever issue they clearly had when they were all encouraged to commit murders. But he didn't say anything other than turning to Dickie and raising an eyebrow. He didn't know the full story he supposed. That left him, Richard and Shawn in the infirmary, just hanging out.
With a final glance towards the door, Darryl moved across the room and settled against a wall, hand holding the gun loosely resting on his thigh. They let silence settle over them because Darryl didn't have much to say. No point in wasting words on small talk.
"How you doing Shawn?"
"Alright, aside from being trapped on this island I guess. Really helping me shed the pounds though."
Yeah, good talk, them all trapped on death row trying to pass the time pretending the chair wasn't waiting.
Then as if death got bored of waiting it decided to send a banshee's wail their way as whatever the girls had been discussing turned sour. Which sure surprised Darryl, given they'd been so happy to meet again.
He was up and towards the door quicker than he realized, gun still held in his hand.
Finger on the trigger.
He didn't wait or check with Richard before darting outside. A quick scan revealed Iris, stood by the stairs leading to one of the tunnels. But no June.
"Iris!" Darryl called, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the snow as he stepped closer. "What happened?"
With a final glance towards the door, Darryl moved across the room and settled against a wall, hand holding the gun loosely resting on his thigh. They let silence settle over them because Darryl didn't have much to say. No point in wasting words on small talk.
"How you doing Shawn?"
"Alright, aside from being trapped on this island I guess. Really helping me shed the pounds though."
Yeah, good talk, them all trapped on death row trying to pass the time pretending the chair wasn't waiting.
Then as if death got bored of waiting it decided to send a banshee's wail their way as whatever the girls had been discussing turned sour. Which sure surprised Darryl, given they'd been so happy to meet again.
He was up and towards the door quicker than he realized, gun still held in his hand.
Finger on the trigger.
He didn't wait or check with Richard before darting outside. A quick scan revealed Iris, stood by the stairs leading to one of the tunnels. But no June.
"Iris!" Darryl called, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the snow as he stepped closer. "What happened?"
So, as it turned out his suspicions were correct, and then some. Not only was June responsible for that little head injury, but she also tried to hide the evidence afterwards. Better yet, she wanted to pull Iris away for a private conversation, a move Shawn approved of with a subtle nod.
After all, what's the worst that could happen?
That did however leave him alone with Darryl and Dickie, neither of whom seemed keen on conversation. So there he sat, pawing at his pickaxe as the minutes dragged on, pondering whether or not it was worth sticking with this group or splitting off to be alone again. On the one hand, it'd be close to impossible for him to continue doing his part to speed things along if he was chained to this group, especially if they were the kind of folk who'd rather sit around and wait for their turn to die. On the other hand, it didn't hurt to have some warm bodies to hide behind, safety in numbers and all that. Hell it'd be nice to have someone to talk to for a change, not that there was much of that going on.
In apropos of nothing, Shawn clicked his tongue. "SOOooooo..." he began, looking up at the others. He was about to say something when a banshee wail drew everyone's attention, causing him to jolt in surprise. Christ, took them long enough...
"Uuh, I'm sure they're just..." he continues, only for a series of thumps to interrupt him. "...shit."
As the others darted for the door, Shawn briefly glanced towards the fire exit, pondering for a half-second if now would be a good time for him to make his exit. In the end he decided to stick around a little longer, following the others outside to assess the damage.
Making sure the rear was covered, Shawn glanced past Darryl and Dickie's shoulders as they made it outside, his eyes widening as he covered his mouth. Ostensibly out of shock, but also to hide the subtle half-smirk on his face. Atta girl, Iris.
After all, what's the worst that could happen?
That did however leave him alone with Darryl and Dickie, neither of whom seemed keen on conversation. So there he sat, pawing at his pickaxe as the minutes dragged on, pondering whether or not it was worth sticking with this group or splitting off to be alone again. On the one hand, it'd be close to impossible for him to continue doing his part to speed things along if he was chained to this group, especially if they were the kind of folk who'd rather sit around and wait for their turn to die. On the other hand, it didn't hurt to have some warm bodies to hide behind, safety in numbers and all that. Hell it'd be nice to have someone to talk to for a change, not that there was much of that going on.
In apropos of nothing, Shawn clicked his tongue. "SOOooooo..." he began, looking up at the others. He was about to say something when a banshee wail drew everyone's attention, causing him to jolt in surprise. Christ, took them long enough...
"Uuh, I'm sure they're just..." he continues, only for a series of thumps to interrupt him. "...shit."
As the others darted for the door, Shawn briefly glanced towards the fire exit, pondering for a half-second if now would be a good time for him to make his exit. In the end he decided to stick around a little longer, following the others outside to assess the damage.
Making sure the rear was covered, Shawn glanced past Darryl and Dickie's shoulders as they made it outside, his eyes widening as he covered his mouth. Ostensibly out of shock, but also to hide the subtle half-smirk on his face. Atta girl, Iris.
Richard didn’t feel Iris’ refusal, he felt her rejection. For an insecure boy who had spent the majority of his life insulating himself from that feeling…his self-denials and protections were swift and silencing. He didn't argue with Iris, he instead argued with his instinct to cuss her out and assert himself as leader.
But what good would that do?
The voice of the conciliator, (or the voice of complacent cowardice), won out over the voice of confrontation. Iris said things were going to be okay and so Dicky had to believe her. The one thing they had out here was trust and Dick wasn’t so quick to give it up. Iris said things were going to be okay and so Richard had no choice but to take that to heart. It was life and death out here. War. If Iris was lying, to herself or the group? They had to believe that lie and be willing to wave their flag and fight for it. That's just the way things were. It was war. If it was a lie, they fought on that lie. That’s what was meant by life or death struggle.
That’s what survival of the fittest relied on.
When shit inevitably hit the fan, as it was guaranteed to do, Richard felt the slap of surprise more than the sting of rejection.
Darryl sprung into action, turning quickly, and moving forward with his eye on the prize and finger on the trigger. Then slick and sneaky Shawn the Snitch slithered onto the scene. Finally? Big Dick Buster, last to react and slowest to move. Fat-faced, fat-brained, and fat-ankled. He waivered and waddled into the fray. So much for trust, so much for fighting on lies. The undeniable truth would always win out. That’s why it was undeniable. Dicky knew that now just as much as he believed it then.
Shit hit the fan because what else was shit gonna do? What did God make fans for?
The inevitable violence inevitably happened, and Dick stuttered and stammered and felt every inch of his 5’3”-self come up short. No decorum, no composure, no thought to appearance or assumption…
“Whadafuck?!”
But what good would that do?
The voice of the conciliator, (or the voice of complacent cowardice), won out over the voice of confrontation. Iris said things were going to be okay and so Dicky had to believe her. The one thing they had out here was trust and Dick wasn’t so quick to give it up. Iris said things were going to be okay and so Richard had no choice but to take that to heart. It was life and death out here. War. If Iris was lying, to herself or the group? They had to believe that lie and be willing to wave their flag and fight for it. That's just the way things were. It was war. If it was a lie, they fought on that lie. That’s what was meant by life or death struggle.
That’s what survival of the fittest relied on.
When shit inevitably hit the fan, as it was guaranteed to do, Richard felt the slap of surprise more than the sting of rejection.
Darryl sprung into action, turning quickly, and moving forward with his eye on the prize and finger on the trigger. Then slick and sneaky Shawn the Snitch slithered onto the scene. Finally? Big Dick Buster, last to react and slowest to move. Fat-faced, fat-brained, and fat-ankled. He waivered and waddled into the fray. So much for trust, so much for fighting on lies. The undeniable truth would always win out. That’s why it was undeniable. Dicky knew that now just as much as he believed it then.
Shit hit the fan because what else was shit gonna do? What did God make fans for?
The inevitable violence inevitably happened, and Dick stuttered and stammered and felt every inch of his 5’3”-self come up short. No decorum, no composure, no thought to appearance or assumption…
“Whadafuck?!”
V7
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television
"AH. AH."
With a start, June flopped over onto her back, waved her arms to arrest her fall— she wasn't falling. The air wasn't rushing past her anymore.
The white-gray light from the tunnel exit above her did not shrink, but it swayed, though she was still. Like she was on a ship. She was seasick. She wasn't on a ship but. She was seasick. The door kept swaying, she felt dizzy. Her head was moving but she wasn't moving. Why was it— she was seasick.
She put her arms behind herself, trying to steady her position. Right arm on the ground, left—
"Ah."
She instinctively drew her left arm away from the ground, right arm slid out from under her, she landed on her back with a thud, knocking the air out of her. It hurt, she realized. Ice-hot from the middle of her left arm, the numb air of the outside and the glowing cinder of the inside of her arm, midpoint of her forearm. It hurt— she was seasick— it hurt. Why did it h— she was pushed, and then she fell— why was she pushed? Why did it— seasick— why did it hurt?
She raised her arms up, like trying to rise from a grave, and, she tried holding them still. Her arms, hovering, backlit by the still swaying seasick white-gray light of above. Her eyes struggled to focus, but she could see just fine, but, just, it looked all wavy and— seasick— only her left arm was wavy actually— seasick— her left icehot arm, her pain arm, her— seasick— her two-elbowed arm, her arm bending at a ten-degree angle in the middle of her forearm all limp and wavy and hot and cold and seasick and bent where it shouldn't be—
June's eyes widened. Her mouth quivered, whimpered for a bit.
And then, she let out a long, piercing scream.
"AH. AH."
With a start, June flopped over onto her back, waved her arms to arrest her fall— she wasn't falling. The air wasn't rushing past her anymore.
The white-gray light from the tunnel exit above her did not shrink, but it swayed, though she was still. Like she was on a ship. She was seasick. She wasn't on a ship but. She was seasick. The door kept swaying, she felt dizzy. Her head was moving but she wasn't moving. Why was it— she was seasick.
She put her arms behind herself, trying to steady her position. Right arm on the ground, left—
"Ah."
She instinctively drew her left arm away from the ground, right arm slid out from under her, she landed on her back with a thud, knocking the air out of her. It hurt, she realized. Ice-hot from the middle of her left arm, the numb air of the outside and the glowing cinder of the inside of her arm, midpoint of her forearm. It hurt— she was seasick— it hurt. Why did it h— she was pushed, and then she fell— why was she pushed? Why did it— seasick— why did it hurt?
She raised her arms up, like trying to rise from a grave, and, she tried holding them still. Her arms, hovering, backlit by the still swaying seasick white-gray light of above. Her eyes struggled to focus, but she could see just fine, but, just, it looked all wavy and— seasick— only her left arm was wavy actually— seasick— her left icehot arm, her pain arm, her— seasick— her two-elbowed arm, her arm bending at a ten-degree angle in the middle of her forearm all limp and wavy and hot and cold and seasick and bent where it shouldn't be—
June's eyes widened. Her mouth quivered, whimpered for a bit.
And then, she let out a long, piercing scream.
Iris was still standing frozen when the boys came to investigate, because of course they would, of course they cared, and look what she'd done. They'd trusted her, they'd worried about keeping her safe, and June had been sorry, but somehow she hadn't been sorry enough, and for a moment Iris had just wanted to hurt June like June had hurt her.
And she had.
She could only give Richard, Darryl, and Shawn a deer-in-headlights stare as they approached. Shawn was covering his mouth in horror. Darryl was holding the gun.
"I-" She didn't choke on her words so much as there simply were none. No explanation. She couldn't articulate the anger that had welled up inside her, and the fear, and the certainty for a moment that she'd had to do it, even if in that moment she'd also wanted to.
"I didn't- she-"
From the depths of the stairwell, a piercing scream that jolted Iris as much as if she'd been shot. The window in the listening station cracking.
The evidence.
No. No no no no no no no she couldn't, she couldn't stand them looking at her with horror like that, like she was- June had tried to kill her but June was sorry, and June hadn't meant it, but Iris had.
And they all knew it.
June's scream jolted Iris into action. She didn't have a plan or a destination or a reason. She just picked a direction away from there and ran.
((Iris Waite continued in Raised in Captivity))
And she had.
She could only give Richard, Darryl, and Shawn a deer-in-headlights stare as they approached. Shawn was covering his mouth in horror. Darryl was holding the gun.
"I-" She didn't choke on her words so much as there simply were none. No explanation. She couldn't articulate the anger that had welled up inside her, and the fear, and the certainty for a moment that she'd had to do it, even if in that moment she'd also wanted to.
"I didn't- she-"
From the depths of the stairwell, a piercing scream that jolted Iris as much as if she'd been shot. The window in the listening station cracking.
The evidence.
No. No no no no no no no she couldn't, she couldn't stand them looking at her with horror like that, like she was- June had tried to kill her but June was sorry, and June hadn't meant it, but Iris had.
And they all knew it.
June's scream jolted Iris into action. She didn't have a plan or a destination or a reason. She just picked a direction away from there and ran.
((Iris Waite continued in Raised in Captivity))
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
Iris stuttered, trying to explain, meanwhile, June didn't reappear.
Something had happened, Darryl just had no idea what. Behind him, he heard the crunch of snow as Shawn and Richard followed him outside into the snow. He heard their reactions but kept his focus on Iris, trying to figure out just what exactly was going on.
But then any questions he would have had were answered when a screaming echoed out of the stairwell. Darryl flinched at how raw it was, full of pain and terror.
And then Iris was running, quicker than he expected.
"Iris! Wait," He began, but she was quickly engulfed in a curtain of white snow. The gun was in his hand and he started moving.
But he didn't pursue her, instead, he turned and rushed down the steps to the tunnels. They were taken three at a time as he leaped down, finding June at the bottom.
He looked over the girl and took in her arm, which couldn't decide which direction it wanted to bend in.
Darryl grimaced as he also saw some blood seeping out from her head, the exact location of the injury hidden from his view by her hair.
"Okay, shit," He breathed. "June, hey, we need to get you inside."
Something had happened, Darryl just had no idea what. Behind him, he heard the crunch of snow as Shawn and Richard followed him outside into the snow. He heard their reactions but kept his focus on Iris, trying to figure out just what exactly was going on.
But then any questions he would have had were answered when a screaming echoed out of the stairwell. Darryl flinched at how raw it was, full of pain and terror.
And then Iris was running, quicker than he expected.
"Iris! Wait," He began, but she was quickly engulfed in a curtain of white snow. The gun was in his hand and he started moving.
But he didn't pursue her, instead, he turned and rushed down the steps to the tunnels. They were taken three at a time as he leaped down, finding June at the bottom.
He looked over the girl and took in her arm, which couldn't decide which direction it wanted to bend in.
Darryl grimaced as he also saw some blood seeping out from her head, the exact location of the injury hidden from his view by her hair.
"Okay, shit," He breathed. "June, hey, we need to get you inside."
Shawn flinched as June's scream echoed from the tunnel, just as shocked as everyone else that she'd survived that fall.
He was equally surprised when Darryl rushed ahead, not after Iris' fleeing form as he suspected, but down the staircase to check in on her botched victim. After all the venom they spewed her way, not to mention that little confession of her's, it struck him as odd that they'd prioritise her over their supposed friend.
Maybe that was something that could work in his favour. After all, if these people were willing to help someone who'd injured their friend, then perhaps they were stupid enough to eventually trust a guy like him.
But, then again, did he really want to be stuck helping another lost cause?
"H-hang on, I'll grab something to help!" he stutters, backing away before darting back into the infirmary.
Shawn never returned, instead opting to grab his things and the spare bag, leaving quietly via the emergency exit.
He did however leave the spare medkit behind.
((Shawn Bellamy continued in Schmuck Bait))
He was equally surprised when Darryl rushed ahead, not after Iris' fleeing form as he suspected, but down the staircase to check in on her botched victim. After all the venom they spewed her way, not to mention that little confession of her's, it struck him as odd that they'd prioritise her over their supposed friend.
Maybe that was something that could work in his favour. After all, if these people were willing to help someone who'd injured their friend, then perhaps they were stupid enough to eventually trust a guy like him.
But, then again, did he really want to be stuck helping another lost cause?
"H-hang on, I'll grab something to help!" he stutters, backing away before darting back into the infirmary.
Shawn never returned, instead opting to grab his things and the spare bag, leaving quietly via the emergency exit.
He did however leave the spare medkit behind.
((Shawn Bellamy continued in Schmuck Bait))
Dickie was flabbergasted, flummoxed and flat-out distraught over the current events.
His leg shook, his stomach rumbled, and his shoulders slumped along with his gaze. His intuition fought with his inhibition as he pondered chasing after Iris…but when Dick lacked direction, Darryl provided decision. When Dickie asked dumbass questions, Darryl provided smartass answers. Big Dick didn’t have the strength to argue with his best bud. Truthfully, this was how he had always wanted it to be…Dickie setting up picks, Darryl scoring off the roll.
The point was that when Richard couldn’t follow his faith, he followed his friend. That’s what friends were for after all.
Darryl, in so many ways, acted the way Richard would’ve wanted to act when acting his best. He sprung into action and took his shot. Richard scrambled after his friend and assisted him in assisting June up. Dicky desired to be a man of action, which meant that he had to do something, anything and do it quickly. His fat-ankle made chasing after Iris a non-starter. That consistent thread of personal responsibility he used to take ownership of any situation tied terrible knots that bound him in place. He didn't trust June, but he knew he trusted Darryl. He didn't want to leave Iris, he wanted to chase after and calm her down. But Dick didn't have a plan, Big Dick Buster didn't know what to do.
When you didn't know what to do, you did whatever it was that you could.
They made their way up the stairs and back into the infirmary and once inside began to work on the wounds of their classmate. Dickie was a boy-scout and was on the path of being a third generation pediatrician. He knew his way around a first aid kit. He was grateful for the one Shawn left behind.
His leg shook, his stomach rumbled, and his shoulders slumped along with his gaze. His intuition fought with his inhibition as he pondered chasing after Iris…but when Dick lacked direction, Darryl provided decision. When Dickie asked dumbass questions, Darryl provided smartass answers. Big Dick didn’t have the strength to argue with his best bud. Truthfully, this was how he had always wanted it to be…Dickie setting up picks, Darryl scoring off the roll.
The point was that when Richard couldn’t follow his faith, he followed his friend. That’s what friends were for after all.
Darryl, in so many ways, acted the way Richard would’ve wanted to act when acting his best. He sprung into action and took his shot. Richard scrambled after his friend and assisted him in assisting June up. Dicky desired to be a man of action, which meant that he had to do something, anything and do it quickly. His fat-ankle made chasing after Iris a non-starter. That consistent thread of personal responsibility he used to take ownership of any situation tied terrible knots that bound him in place. He didn't trust June, but he knew he trusted Darryl. He didn't want to leave Iris, he wanted to chase after and calm her down. But Dick didn't have a plan, Big Dick Buster didn't know what to do.
When you didn't know what to do, you did whatever it was that you could.
They made their way up the stairs and back into the infirmary and once inside began to work on the wounds of their classmate. Dickie was a boy-scout and was on the path of being a third generation pediatrician. He knew his way around a first aid kit. He was grateful for the one Shawn left behind.
V7
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television
June was more pulled rather than brought along, her visual surroundings more blurs and smears than anything she could locate herself in. She barely could register that she was on a bed now, that there were two people trying to treat her wounds. All there was for her to focus on was the pain.
The pain, and one lingering thought, one thought that echoed around her head over and over and over again.
In those tunnels, not too far from where she'd fallen, Medea had promised her one thing. She had promised that, whatever path June found herself on, no matter how difficult, she would be there with her, walking side by side.
And June, in the visual and auditory cacophony of it all, alone with her and her pain, could only ask Medea one thing:
Where was she now?
((June Madison continues in Medically Ineffective Intervention))
The pain, and one lingering thought, one thought that echoed around her head over and over and over again.
In those tunnels, not too far from where she'd fallen, Medea had promised her one thing. She had promised that, whatever path June found herself on, no matter how difficult, she would be there with her, walking side by side.
And June, in the visual and auditory cacophony of it all, alone with her and her pain, could only ask Medea one thing:
Where was she now?
((June Madison continues in Medically Ineffective Intervention))
Darryl wasn’t on the basketball team—Dicky still asked him to join every year.
Sometimes he wondered why, but not often, deep down he always knew the reason. It wasn't so complicated.
Darryl wasn’t that good of a player even though he was a better player than Dick. Darryl would’ve prolly been the best player on the team the moment he joined. Regardless, Dickie felt strong by his friends presence and when they were working together side by side and that’s why he had fantasized about them taking the court together. Moment by moment, minute by minute, they tended to the injured June. For a few days, after tending to Iris’ wounds inflicted by June, Dicky had villainized the injured girl he now played nurse to. He thought of those old Sunday school lessons. Those servings of cafeteria Catholicism Big Dick’s fat mouth ate up with little discretion.
When you forgave your enemy, God forgave you. He felt guilt about Iris, about letting her go off on her own, about not chasing her now that she left. He felt guilt about how so many had died and Richard had somehow still survived.
He ignored his feelings and worked with his friend on June’s injuries. It was silly for Dickie to have spent so much time asking Darryl to join up with the Terriers. Darryl was Dick's friend. They had a kindred spirit and a likened mind. Neither was going to abandon June to the island and cold while dealing with the immediacy of injury.
They didn’t need a ball to be a team.
[ Big Dick Buster and Darryl Smith Jr. continued in Medically Ineffective Intervention ]
Sometimes he wondered why, but not often, deep down he always knew the reason. It wasn't so complicated.
Darryl wasn’t that good of a player even though he was a better player than Dick. Darryl would’ve prolly been the best player on the team the moment he joined. Regardless, Dickie felt strong by his friends presence and when they were working together side by side and that’s why he had fantasized about them taking the court together. Moment by moment, minute by minute, they tended to the injured June. For a few days, after tending to Iris’ wounds inflicted by June, Dicky had villainized the injured girl he now played nurse to. He thought of those old Sunday school lessons. Those servings of cafeteria Catholicism Big Dick’s fat mouth ate up with little discretion.
When you forgave your enemy, God forgave you. He felt guilt about Iris, about letting her go off on her own, about not chasing her now that she left. He felt guilt about how so many had died and Richard had somehow still survived.
He ignored his feelings and worked with his friend on June’s injuries. It was silly for Dickie to have spent so much time asking Darryl to join up with the Terriers. Darryl was Dick's friend. They had a kindred spirit and a likened mind. Neither was going to abandon June to the island and cold while dealing with the immediacy of injury.
They didn’t need a ball to be a team.
[ Big Dick Buster and Darryl Smith Jr. continued in Medically Ineffective Intervention ]
V7
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television
V8
"Big Dick" Buster / Zora Morrison
They mad 'cause I decided not to pretend
Y'all stay politically correct, I'ma do what I did
Ain't no sympathy here, this shit's hilarious
It's a lot of opinions, but no power to carry it
2025, they still movin' on some scary shit
Tell 'em quit they job and pay the real ones they severance
Don't insult my intelligence, I'm not just for the television