Survival Of The Fittest

Katrina heard Justin walk away. He was going to leave. He wasn't going to finish her off. He was going to leave her alone to die. Katrina could feel her breathing getting more and more difficult. This was really it. She was truly going to die. She was marked for death since she woke up near that wrecked lighthouse. Or was it since she killed Yuko? Or when she decided to go on the trip? It didn't matter when she was put on this path, but it was happening now, and she couldn't change it.

Why did it have to be this way? Couldn't she have just gone to college and tried to make it as a pop star? She worked so hard, followed all the platitudes her mom made serious scratch from, and did so much to ensure she was the best she could be. But was this it? To be left uncertain, unrecognized, and only remembered as one of the thousands killed by this twisted game over the last twenty years? There were always going to be new pop stars, and she never even committed to one identity to try and stay remembered. No one would care about her music or remember her besides being a victim.

She heard someone else. Her view was obscured by the figure. Was it Justin back to finish her off?

Hey, when I said run, I meant it.

Oh, thank god, Katrina thought to herself. It was just Willow. Willow was still alive. She was back to be with her. Justin was gone, and Willow was still alive. Katrina weakly smiled when she realized it was her friend.

Willow got close to Katrina and asked if there was anything she wanted. That was a bit loaded. It did hurt a lot right now, so she could ask Willow to finish her off. But, for some reason, Katrina didn't want that. Willow was here, and that was enough. But she knew Willow had been weird over the last few days. She had been unfocused, a bit weird and rude, and less likely to care about herself. She couldn't do that anymore. They were in the final 30, or 29 at most now, and she couldn't be like that.

"Willow..." Katrina muttered.

It hurt to talk, but she had to get out everything she could.

"Live..."

Katrina coughed again.

"Take everything here...and survive this place...be the one...don't die..."

One last bit of talking, and Katrina was sure she could be satisfied.

"For me...Sierra...Roxie...everyone...and..."

She weakly reached over towards Willow, putting one bloody hand on Willow's stomach.

"For the baby...please...survive..."

She cringed, putting her free hand over her face.

Jesus Christ. The knot in her throat was tightening as Katrina continued to whimpered her way toward death. The allusion of her being a thing that she could wipe away from her memory was slowly becoming a goal that Willow couldn't achieve. She would be stuck with Katrina's final images forever, or at least, until she died in the next couple of days.

"I will," she said, smiling sadly, "I'll- I'll try my best, okay."

Why couldn't Katrina just hate her? It would have been easier really.

Why was she so nice? There was no reason to be. Willow never deserved that kindness in any way, shape, or form. She deserved nothing else than the leftovers than she was used to, but instead Katrina decided to be unconditionally loving toward her. It would have been so much different if she had come clean to her.

Maybe she could, right now, just tell her everything. Dump all of that on her. Like that, Willow wouldn't care about the writhing figure in front of her. But the tiny strands of humanity were holding her back, it was her last moment and Willow couldn't - or at least, wouldn't - take it away from her.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "about everything."

Willow grabbed Katrina's hand. Was she a friend? Was she just an ally? Or a tool? Willow didn't know. She didn't want to know. She looked at her nails, the botched black polish, the marks on her fingers. She was going to die and Willow couldn't do anything about it other than to cry.

"I'm really fucking sorry."

Why couldn't Katrina just hate her?

"I love you."

Willow agreed to Katrina's request. She then took Katrina's hand and started apologizing. Katrina smiled at her friend, tears starting to form in her eyes. And suddenly, it all clicked for Katrina.

This was what it was for. Willow was that reckless, unfiltered girl she met at her lowest moment back on Day 2. Over the course of nearly two weeks, she became one of Katrina's most important friends and most important people in her life. She met this wild person who changed everything about how Katrina saw herself and others. She gave Katrina an open ear, an open mind, and continued dedication, and Katrina found herself giving it back to her. And that alone was enough to live for, if she could stay by her friend's side.

All around them were things to help Willow survive the game. The nodachi, Sierra's rifle, at least three bags of supplies, and the mountain bike. Willow could surely handle herself for however much longer this nightmare would take. Maybe Katrina wasn't the most stable or reliable of allies, but she had helped her new friend reach this point, and now she had everything she needed to go through the game.

Katrina chuckled a bit at Willow's declaration.

"I love you too," Katrina said. "And hey, it'll be fine. After all..."

Katrina coughed a bit. She was starting to fade away, and she only had a little bit of time left. Time for one last performance.

"One last time...I need to be...the one...who takes you home..." she began to sing.

She couldn't get the rest out of her throat. Looks like she'd have to hum the rest of it.

"One more time..."

She was starting to feel tired. But she was almost done.

"I promise after that..."

And then, she was silent.


"I'll let you go."

How many lies did she have to tell before they caught up to her?

How many lives would it take before she crumbled?

How many love did she need to fake before she would get her heart broken?

She wasn't sure.

Katrina was dead. Sierra was dead. Roxie was dead. Willow was going to be next. If it wasn't now, then it would be tomorrow, or the day after. She would be dead and then she would get what she deserves. Willow wasn't sure how she had escaped her punishment yet again, but she did.

Willow crossed her arms over Katrina, putting her head on the center of the dead girl's sternum. She was sobbing, she couldn't stop it. She didn't want the world to see it, but they already did, too many times. This wasn't any different than the other times, so why did it feel wrong to show it? Her fingers dug into the warm flesh of Katrina.

"You fucking cunt," she whispered, "I always hated you so fucking much."

She looked away, packing her stuff. Willow's body was stained by the blood.

"Then why does it hurt so fucking much." Her teeth were clenched together, threatening to break at any time. She wanted to wrap her hands around her pretty face and tear it apart, but she couldn't. It wasn't fair. Willow didn't want her plan b, she didn't want to try to live. There was no point to, she had been dead for years and now she was forced to try and she hated it.

"You shouldn't have died, but you did anyways and now I'm stuck alone with 30 people I hate," she said, smiling through her tears, "I hope you're happy."

She wiped her tears, smearing blood over her face. She wiped her face again, breaking down. She was so dirty.

"Why couldn't you just hate me? This wouldn't have happened. You would-"

Her voice didn't carry. At this point, she was talking to herself.

"...you would be fine and you would go home and you could- you could do whatever you want-"

She let the tears fall down. Katrina would have wanted her to carry her body somewhere quiet, away from the stares, but Willow was too weak. She couldn't even carry herself anymore."

''...wanted." She corrected. "Whatever you wanted because now, now, you abandoned me and now I'm alone and- and-"

She cried.



"I'm scared."

((Willow continued in the next thread.))