Survival Of The Fittest

Why couldn't she breathe? Why did it feel like she was choking?

She was- she felt like she was dying. Her hands around Jezzie's throat, but she was dying.

Involuntarily, June's head turned towards her left.

Medea's corpse laid splayed on the ocean-sprayed granite, neck bent at an unnatural angle. Rivers of blood flowed from her neck, slit made above the collar.

Neck bent at an unnatural angle, just enough for Medea's final gaze to meet June's. Dead eyes making contact.

Watching.





June's face curled in on itself, throat twitching, lips trembling. She turned back to Jezzie.

"Get her- GET HER WORDS OUT YOUR MOUTH," she shrieked.

June raised her right hand and struck, swiping her nails across Jezzie's face.

Pricks of blood began to blossom in parallel lines across her left cheek. June brought her shaking hand back into view, saw blood dug underneath the whites of her nails.

Quickly, haphazardly, she got to her feet, gathered her bags, and ran away.

((June Madison continues in Shawn's Marvelous Medicine))

She was going to die. She was going to be strangled to death. Her story was going to end before she even really lived.

It wasn't fair. She just wanted to live. She just wanted people to like her. She just wanted to help someone for once.

Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't she have been born somewhere else, as someone e

Jezzie let out a sound as her head jerked to the side from the attack. Sort of a cry, maybe a sob, but also like a squeak. Something she couldn't quite define that easily.

She knew it was blood this time. The sea water and the tears were cold when touching her skin. This was warm.

Then, the weight was gone.

And once more, she was alone.

For a few moments, she didn't move. Only laying there. Letting the tears go. Letting the blood flow. Letting the two mix together on her skin.

Then, Jezzie's hands made contact with the rocks.

Her back left the ground.

The blood started trailing down towards her chin, rather than creating the parallel lines on her cheek.

She didn't stop crying.

What was she going to do now? She was alone. She had one nice thing and it was gone now. No one would believe her about Medea. What was she supposed to do?

Her brain raced with thoughts as she stared at the slowly approaching waves.

Then, her eyes caught something shining within those waves.

And she had an idea.

[[Fade out on Jezzie Stark as she stares at the water, and a scythe is washed ashore.]]