Survival Of The Fittest

Prii held on grimly. It was all they had. Not enough strength to drag her down. No weapon to strike out at her.

A tight smile stretched across their face. Oh, Amy. Still trying her best. If only that would work.

Mandy was scrabbling for something, snarling. Prii couldn't turn themself enough to try to stop her, couldn't lean into the agony any more than they already were. Prii snatched a handful of her coat, the borrowed coat, dragging her even more towards them. Away from Amy.

They could make this matter. They would make this matter.

Thunk.

Prii's head jolted backwards and they screamed as the next strike sank deep, deep, deep.

“Why?”

Soft, nearly imperceptible.

"Why?"

Amy stayed for a little while longer. Stuck between the need to escape and the need to hold Prii's hand and make it better and the need to take Mandy by the hair and make her see the consequences, to fix her, to probe into her mind and change her until she's all nice and better again the way she should be and the way she was before.

It still wasn't enough to make her move, because she had the chance. It's almost easy. Pick up the gun. Point at Mandy. Pull the trigger. It's there, still, if she looked. She’s held in place right now- she could take something, bash in her skull, it would be so easy-

But she didn't care about it anymore. She wasn’t that kind of person. The thoughts flew through her mind for a millisecond, and then they were gone, and she wasn’t thinking about it anymore. Prii was going to die anyway.

…

So she said goodbye. In her head, but the words were still there, fainting on her tongue.

And she turned around and ran. As fast as she could.

Because she wanted to live to see herself become the star she was supposed to be.

Shnk

Because she wanted the gun and knew there was no other way of getting it.

Shlk

Because people were always going to die, and it didn't really matter whose hand it was by.

Shuk

Because it was so easy to trick them, like telling kids Santa Claus is real.

Shik

Because it was upsetting that people only recognized her to think she was horrible, but when they didn't do that it felt worse.

Shll

Because her life wasn't supposed to be like this, it was supposed to be better than this, and the fact that it wasn't made her want to scream and cry and break something.

Shpp

Because she wanted to.

Shrm

The reasons didn't matter.

She wouldn't stop until they stopped moving.

"Go on. Go."

Prii wasn't sure they even managed to say the words.

It certainly wasn't enough to convey even a fraction of their meaning. They wanted to thank Amy for spending this time with them, and for trying to do what she could. They wanted to tell her she shouldn't blame herself for this. They wanted to wish her luck, and encourage her to survive into the future.

They couldn't. They just had to hope.

Prii continued to cling to Mandy, even as the new blade plunged into them again, again, and again. They forced their head up, and met her eyes.

A different hope, this time. See the pain, see the sorrow, see the accusation.

They managed to hold the stare for as long as their grip remained intact.

Prii slid to the ground, facedown.

They'd tried.

Here's how she would've described it: Her mind was empty. Thoughtless, filled with nothing but the instinct wired need to survive.

Here's what she actually knew: That she was crying the whole time.

((Amy Chen continued...?)

Why couldn't they have just died with the one stab wound? Why couldn't she have just run off like a sensible person when they see another person getting stabbed? Why did they both have to make things difficult?

She didn't care as much about the blood this time. It wasn't her jacket. She could buy new clothes. It would be fine.

Finally. Fucking finally. It was over.

Prii was dead. Amy was next.

Another gross sound as Jezzie slid the blade out - ghlshk. She turned-

And she was alone. Amy's figure disappearing in the cover of the trees.

Damn it.

A quick twist back to Prii. Grabbing the gun from where it had fell. Turning back. Taking aim. Firing-

And finding the gun nearly hitting her in the face from the kickback.

"Shit-"

A quick shift of her head to the side made sure it was her collar bruised rather than her nose broken.

And by the time she remembered that guns are better off being held with two hands, Amy was gone.

No one but Jezzie and the fourth corpse she had made.

She took a breath in. Then let it out.

She collected all of her supplies. From new to the old. Even the knife she dropped and the abandoned sweater vest - useless now, most likely, but they felt like a comfort. The weapon she had from the start and some extra warmth if she really needed it.

Then, Jezzie walked in the opposite direction Amy had gone.

She had a script to memorize.

[[Exit, Jezzie Stark, gun in one hand, the manual in the other as she walks offscreen.]]