Survival Of The Fittest

She was fine.

SHE WAS GONNA BE FINE FUCKASS.

Don't use ass in your insults anymore, Fey.

And as she pulled her tattered jeans back up, she swayed. No, that was fine. She reached down and grabbed her gloves, a few pieces of glass missing what with them having been in her fucking ass, and she could put them back on and get back to... what was it.

The fucking protest. Yeah. That's what she was doing. She was gonna rule this fucking island by showing them all and wasn't she off to a great start.

WELL FUCKING WASN'T SHE?

Fuck.

Fuck.

Jesus Christ Fey you were never the most eloquent one but you gotta do better than just fuck all the time.

"I'm coming!" she called out to Chester. That was something.

The body on the ground. The body she'd seen. The body that was..... OK upon realization that goddamn thing had been dead for some time so her whole attack on the door was taking on a whole other level but who could blame her huh?

Besides that body had a bag.

Which meant oh my god hopefully some actual food and water.

Fey greedily grabbed it and departed.

(Fey Zelenka-Morrison continued elsewhere)