[Boy #14 - Alex White. Continued from Camping in the Woods]
Alex wandered through the night across mansion grounds. From the woods to the tunnel entrance, down to the beach and back outside the Mansion. Every where he went, he marked down the broken cameras on his map. All throughout the night, he wandered and kept to himself. Left alone with his thoughts the entire time. At least, he hoped he was alone. Out in the dark there, where he couldn't see. Behind the trees and in the shadows, where he couldn't see.
"It really is lonely out here."
Alex muttered to himself, making camp there in a place he knew was on the grid. There was no reason to make the operators mad by remaining where they couldn't see him. He certainly didn't want to risk his life by crossing Danya. Not yet at least. No, he would follow the rules. He would follow all of them, for as long as he could stand to. There wasn't any other choice in the matter, really. He either followed the rules or he died, simple as that. Follow the rules and you can survive. Break them and you die. That's the way it was.
"Still no sign of anyone else and it's damn near morning."
The fire was warm and the sticks he'd gathered were sturdy enough. He just needed a way to sharpen them. The rocks weren't going to be enough to bring them down to points, and there was no point in throwing a dull stick at someone. No, he would need a proper blade to turn these stick into javelins, or at least a decent stone one. Heat the rocks and that'll change the way they break, that's what his Dad taught him. Get a couple of good hits in and you can get a decent edge out of most rocks. Good enough to cut skin, to shave off fur, or to use as a hand axe. Use it to cut good, healthy sapplings and you can use them to make a signal fire, or create shelter.
"I remember your lessons. Every one of them, going back to when we were still little and the teaching are more for Micheal's sake than it was for mine. It's a little fuzzy now but I'm sure I could figure something out."
Alex was talking again, speaking with his father as if he were there. He wished he was. Every time he woke up, he wished he was in camp with his father, waking up to a nice meal of freshly caught fish and pine needle tea. Or coffee, if he allowed it to come with. They would love it out here under any other circumstance, spending the week out here with the ocean all around them and plenty of time to spend together, talking and laughing and just enjoying themselves. They could fish in the rivers or maybe get a boat, go out and try their hand at fishing on the ocean. They'd love that, his family.
But he was alone.
"I really wish you were here. You and Micheal. I could use your help."
With a heavy sigh, Alex prodded the fire. Once again, he was left to sit and stare at the flames for who knows how long. Sitting there with his thoughts, in silence with nothing but the crackling fire until the announcements came about and for hours after. It was nice to sit and wait and rest, but it was a waste of time that he couldn't afford to waste. But despite that, he just sat there and waited. He listened as Danya called out more names and listed off the danger zones. He sat and waited for a few hours after the announcement came. Just sitting there, staring at the fire.
Alone.
But not alone.
[Boy #61 - William Hearst. Continued from In Theory, This Should Be Easy.]
Will was done.
Weighed down by the three bags he was carrying, Will had been moving slowly through the woods, along the shoreline and toward one of his former campsites. Without realizing it, he had started to retrace his footsteps. He was going back to the places he visited with Tiffany, to the places they slept and the places they passed. Every one of them had some memory. Even now, as he took his focus off of the notebook in his hands, he remembered how they had run so far and so fast on all but empty stomachs. He shifted the notebook uneasily, trying to hold it with one hand that was already full.
Tiffany...
She was dead, and Will blamed himself. If he hadn't put his gun away when he did, if he would have had it in his hand instead of in his backpack, maybe it would have gone differently. No, no. He shouldn't think about that. There was nothing he could do to help her, no matter what he thought. And it didn't do any good to think back on it and doubt himself. To think about what could have happened. If only, if only. Will shook his head. It wasn't going to help. He tried to focus on something else.
But the only other thing that came to mind was Aislyn.
Will watched two people die in his time on the island. That said nothing for how many corpses he'd seen, but just watching people die in front of him. Watching Tiffany and Aislyn alike bleed out before his very eyes. It was a sight he would always remember. Tiffany lying there in the dirt, lying in her blood. Aislyn tumbling off the docks and the blood in the water. And of course, the death he was responsible for. Trevor's corpse in the woods. That horrible scene and the events that caused it. Will shook his head again.
But nothing was working. The thoughts were still there. The images were still there.
On top of it all, William kept thinking back on the paranoia that had been driving his actions. Always holding the gun and always keeping an eye on the shadows, even when he had Tiffany at his side. Jumping at every little noise, like he had at the docks. Because of that, Kimberly had gotten away. He had to stop that. He had to relax. He had to trust in his own strength and the power he held to protect him and stop worrying about what was around every corner. Unless he ran in to a certain few people, he would have plenty of time to react. Plenty of time to pull the gun and end the threat.
But still he watched the shadows.
When the announcements came, Will was still walking that dreadful slow pace he'd been walking at for a while now. He listened and he wrote, he wondered at some of the names but one in particular struck him hard. Peter's name was called out again, and Colin's as well. But the shock of Peter outweighed the shock of Colin for the moment. Peter hadn't simply died, he'd gone off and killed again. Jessie Anderson fell foul of Peter Siu, huh? The way it was, it sounded as if Peter killed the girl in cold blood. Hell, he might have done just that for all Will knew.
Perhaps it was for the best that Will left them when he did. Maybe... maybe Tiffany was the only person he could trust. The only person.
He couldn't trust Peter. Hell, he doubted if he trusted him after they met. Will had been so uneasy around him and Eiko when they met on the street. Either he was silent or he said the wrong thing and caused awkward, uncomfortable silence in the whole group. It was just... strange, to run in to Peter when they did. But if he couldn't trust Peter, then who could he trust? Peter was the only one he had left, really. The only one who he'd actually found on the island. They were friends before all of this but still, Will couldn't trust him. It hurt to think about that though. If he couldn't trust Peter, who he was so close to before they came to this island, then who could he trust?
Maybe he couldn't trust anyone.
Maybe he would be better off dead, like Tiffany or Aislyn, like Trevor or Colin. Maybe it would be better that way, to leave everything behind and finally be free of this god forsaken island and Danya's nightmarish game. Maybe...
No.
No, that wouldn't help anything.
Will had to survive. He just had to. He had to keep fighting and he had to make the people on this island pay for what they've done. But he couldn't hesitate any more. Aislyn died because he hesitated. Because he didn't react the moment Kimberly started acting strange. No, he had to act immediately when the signs appeared. He had to act, not react. Before anything happened, he needed to do what was necessary to stop it.
No hesitation.
No giving up.
Survival at all costs.
Trust no one.
But... could he really do that?
...It can't be.
There, just ahead. A fire. A warm, crackling fire and a familiar face. But could he really be so lucky? Could it really be him? All this time, all this pain, just to find him at the eleventh hour? It... it couldn't. It just couldn't happen. This was... This was...
"Oh god."
Will couldn't help it. After a week on this horrible island, dealing with death and pain at every turn, he finally found him. Peter wasn't the only he had left. No, there was someone else. Someone more. Someone who could save him from this place. Someone who was always so much stronger than he was.
"Alex..."
It was really him.
"Alex!"
That voice...
"No..."
It couldn't be, but it was. Earlier this week, Alex was obsessed with protecting him from everything that could happen on this island. Thinking that if he only did this or only did that, he could prevent the worst from happening. But then his name was called and Alex wasn't needed for protection, and Alex started to slip. And now there he was, standing not thirty feet away. An arrival at the eleventh hour, indeed. Alex had to rub his eyes and look again, but he didn't disappear.
It really was Will.
Things moved so quickly from there. Alex was up and alert and then they were in each others arms, and Will was crying and Alex was trying to quiet his partner from so long ago. And they stood like that for so long, just standing there and reveling in the moment they shared, a moment they had both been waiting so long for. A week spent on this island for each of them, with pain and death and loneliness all around them the entire time. But now it was over. It was finally over.
They had found each other. And everything would be okay.
It would have been the perfect, storybook ending to this nightmare. There in that grassy field with a flickering fire behind them, a moment in time that neither of them wished to end. Now would have been the time they woke up at home and put this all behind them. This terrible dream should have ended...
They sat by the fire and Will finally wiped the tears from his eyes, took a moment to compose himself. He had a lot to share and didn't know how much time they would have before they would be on the move again, and he wanted to share all he could. He told Alex about his first day on the island and they even laughed for a moment when he brought up Tiffany and her screaming of 'Zombie'. With his eyes locked on the ground, he told him about Trevor and that terrible morning when Everett's name was called. The tears came again but there was no shame in it, and they soon passed.
So much more was yet to be shared.
Will went on and on, about traveling across the island with Tiffany and things they saw, the things they went through together. The night by the sea and the night in the woods, their nights by the fire as they talked and confided in each other. How silly Will felt when Tiffany brought up her feelings toward Peter and how embarrassed he was to have even hinted at his own. The things that seemed so normal when they were back in school, rendered so strange and awkward there on the island. He talked about the close calls they had and the fear he felt when he heard his collar start beeping that morning, how he ran so far and so fast to escape it.
And yet, there was still more to be shared.
Will got to the day in the town and their trip to the swamp as a group. What happened with Tiffany and Brook, and how he reacted. How he took a pretty hard knock to the head and then Brook was gone and Jason was taking off, unscathed for the most part. When he brought up how badly he wanted to kill Jason, Alex paid attention. When he talked about the anger and the rage he felt whenever he thought of Jason, Alex paid attention. Alex paid attention to a lot of things, but to hear William talk of murder and rage... it was different.
William had changed so much.
But still, there was more to be shared.
Alex held his tongue and listened on and on as William spoke, enjoying friendly company for once and forgetting all about the paranoia he once held toward every person on the island and every sound outside of sight. When it came turn for him to speak, he spoke his fair share. When it was time for him to listen, he kept quiet and listened to every word that William had to say. Even here on the island, they had something in common. The fear they felt since they woke up here. The paranoia that drove their actions.
"But I won't hesitate anymore. I... I know what I need to do to survive, and I'll do it."
What?
Alex didn't expect him to say that. Even after everything that had happened, he didn't expect that. For William to come to such a conclusion...
"Do you really mean that?"
"Of course. You realize that too, right? We can't hesitate here. I hesitated, and it got Aislyn killed. I hesitated, and Tiffany's killer got away. I won't hesitate anymore. Kimberly and Brook and Jason? They'll all die... I'll make sure of it. They have to pay for what they've done."
Haven't you done the same?
"What about Peter?"
Alex knew Peter. Probably not as well as Will did, but well enough. He also knew that Peter had killed twice already, and neither one of them sounded as if they were mere accidents. Hell, he found that boy, Lucas. Not too far away, in fact. That wasn't an accident. No, his throat was slit from ear to fucking ear. You couldn't say that was an accident. Trevor was an accident. Lucas was murder.
"He's killed twice now. Should he pay for it as well?"
"Well... yes, I suppose. But I knew I couldn't trust Peter even before Tiffany was dead. Something just seemed... off, y'know? And those are the rules, after all. Danya made it very clear before we even got here. Don't trust anyone."
He was right. That was the rule. Don't trust anyone, or your life could be forfeit. Don't trust anyone. That was it, wasn't it? That was what it all came down to. Every chance meeting, every happenstance encounter. It all came down to whether you could trust the people you were with, and if they would betray that trust or not. Would Will betray his trust? Could Will be trusted? He had, after all, killed Trevor. Sure, he claimed it was an accident... but how could he be sure? Alex hadn't seen Trevor's body, hadn't witnessed the scene in question. How could he be sure that it was an accident and not simple, cold blooded murder?
How could he trust Will with that gun he held so tight?
"Will? May I have the gun?"
So this is what it came down to?
Alex stood up from where he had been sitting this entire time, listening as Will prattled on and chiming in only when it was necessary. He stood up and he looked down on Will and he demanded the gun, his hand held out. But Will couldn't just let the gun out of his sight. He couldn't just hand it over, just like that. He promised that he wouldn't let it go again. If he let it go, something bad might happen again. If he let the gun go, someone would die. He knew it. When he let the gun go last time, Tiffany died. He watched her bleed to death. He couldn't let it go.
"I'm sorry, Alex. I promised that I wouldn't let it go... you understand, right?"
"No. Hand it over, now."
Damn it. Why did this have to happen? This wasn't... this wasn't supposed to happen. Will backed away from Alex, holding the gun tight. He refused to let it go, even for Alex. It was his strength and his power, and he refused to give it up. But he should trust Alex, shouldn't he? If he was going to trust anyone on this island, it would be him. It should be him. But still, William refused to hand over the gun when Alex asked for it. But Alex wasn't asking for it any more, he was demanding it. Moving closer, holding out his hand. And for every step that Alex took, Will took one of his own.
"I can't. I need it... you know I need it. Brook and Jason... they have to pay. I need it to make them pay for what they did. I need it to make Kimberly pay for what she's done. I need it to protect myself. You know we can't trust anyone out here, I can't defend myself any other way."
Will tried to explain why he needed the gun. Tried to reiterate the points he brought up earlier. Taking revenge on Brook and Jason for Tiffany, on Kimberly for Aislyn. Protecting himself from everyone else on the island. Protecting himself from the people he couldn't trust anymore, like Peter. But still, Alex wanted the gun. Alex kept insisting. But Will just kept backing away, holding it close and holding it tight. Nothing he said seemed to change Alex's mind. Why did this have to happen? He was supposed to be able to trust Alex. But it seems he should have followed the rules. Don't trust anyone. Not even those closest to you.
"Stay back!"
Will held the gun up in front of him, not quite believing that he was actually aiming it at Alex. His hands were shaking and his breath kept catching in his throat, but he still held the gun out, aiming it at Alex. It was the only thing he could think of. The only way he could keep safe. But even with his finger on the trigger, Alex didn't stop.
Stop.
Please...
Just stop!
With his eyes shut tight, Will pulled the trigger.
He didn't mean to hit Alex. He didn't want to hurt him... he just wanted it to stop. He wanted all of it to stop.
The moment he heard the gunshot, Alex was on Will. He didn't wait and he didn't hesitate. He was alive and he would make that little bastard pay for shooting at him! After all he'd done to try and protect that fucker, and how does he get repaid? With a bullet! Fuck that! Fuck him! Before he knew it, Alex was on Will. The second gunshot barely registered when he tackled the other boy, grabbing at his wrist and trying to wrestle the gun from Will's grasp. Slamming his hand against a rock. Again, and again.
"You fuck!"
Another gunshot.
"You bastard!"
Another.
"FUCK YOU!"
Will screamed and the gun slid just out of reach. Punch after punch and hit after hit, Alex took out his anger and frustration on the boy. Every blow they traded was another dose of fuel for the fire and soon enough, Alex was done with holding back. His blows were heavier, delivered with more force. He'd opened the cuts on his knuckles, but there was already blood on his hands before that. All this over a gun. All this because they couldn't trust each other. But it was too late to go back. That plastic shiv, the one he'd made out of his toothbrush, was sticking out of Will's chest. He didn't know when it got there but didn't care anymore. He just needed to keep Will from getting the gun.
Will struck back hard. Took the opening it afforded him.
"No!"
For a moment, it registered in his mind that he was holding the glass shiv. But just like that, the moment passed and he wasn't holding anything... but now there was blood.
So much blood.
And the knife was sticking out of Will's neck.
"...No."
No.
No.
No!
"...God no."
He didn't mean...
He didn't want to...
Oh god.
What... what did he do?
"No no no no no no no no no."
Soon enough, his words were nothing short of hysterical as he stared down at Will, at what he'd done. It wasn't supposed to happen. Not like this. Not here. He wasn't supposed to do this. They... they weren't supposed to be fighting. What did he do? What did he do?!
Heat of the moment.
He couldn't stop it.
No!
It wasn't his fault.
I didn't...
But he did.
"Oh god... I... I..."
So...
This is how it goes.
Will had spent a week there on the island. He'd probably traveled across the entire island and back with Tiffany. Occasionally, they were actually going somewhere. But most of the time, they didn't have anywhere to go. They still traveled though. They were always on the move, always making camp somewhere different every night. They tried to make the best of their situation while they could, and they tried to hope for the best. They talked about getting off this island, about finding Peter and Alex and everyone else and finding a way out of this game.
Everything was going to be alright.
Wasn't it?
"Promise."
Oh god, it hurt. It hurt to talk. It hurt to breath. He tried to gasp but it just made the taste of metal worse. He didn't recognize his own voice. He could barely see. But he knew Alex was there. He could hear him. Funny... he never heard him act that way. In all the time they knew each other, he'd never actually seen Alex cry. But that doesn't seem to have changed. He could hear him, but seeing was hard. Everything was kind of... hazy.
"Promise me... for Tiffany."
Why was he bringing that up? At a time like this, no less. Funny, the things you think about. The island was first. The past few days and their events. They were the most important. Later, the time they spent together at school. Being stood up at prom when they never really had plans, but making the best of it. Silly little things. Could he have more time to spend with them? No... no, he couldn't. He had to be leaving soon.
How much longer?
"For Aislyn..."
Oh god, it hurt to breath. But it hurt to cough so much more.
"Survive."
Was Alex even listening? Probably. He hoped, at least. It hurt to breath, and it hurt to talk, but it hurt more to stay silent now. He had so much to say in so little time. But no matter how much he commanded it to, his body refused to respond as well as he wanted it to. There just wasn't enough strength left, and what little there was... well, it was slipping away fast. Will never was the strong one.
How much longer?
"Promise me."
Such a horrid taste. Hopefully, he'll never have that taste in his mouth again. Hopefully he'll never have to be on an island again either. All that salt water and all the wandering through woods. Sure, it was nice... but it was a pain. At least his legs weren't sore anymore. Nothing was. It was kind of nice. A welcome reprieve.
"Alex?"
Seems kind of strange, holding his hand now. He could barely feel it, but he knew it was happening. How he wished for one more night. Could he have one more night, just one? Under the stars and by the fire, a night to call their own? No... no, he couldn't have one more night.
How much longer?
"I..."
I love you.
I still love you.
I forgive you...
"I..."
I want you to survive.
I want you to keep fighting.
Promise me, okay?
Promise me.
Boy #61 - William Hearst. Deceased.
That... that's it?
What was he going to say?
"...Damn it."
What was he going to say?
"Damn it!"
Alex grabbed Will by the shoulders, tight as he could, tried to wake him.
"Not now! You can't just... you can't..."
Again and again, he shook him. Tried to wake him from that sleep.
"Get up!"
Again.
"Get up!"
Again.
"You're stronger than this!"
Again and again.
"You can't just give up."
No more.
"You can't just leave me."
He couldn't hold on anymore. He couldn't keep shaking. He had to let go.
"You can't... You just can't."
But he did. And it was Alex's fault. He did this. He was the reason Will was dead. It was his fault. His and his alone. Protect the ones he loved, isn't that what he said the other day? He was doing this to protect the ones he loved. His friends. But he didn't protect Will. He killed Will. If it wasn't for him, Will would still be alive. If it wasn't for him, he would still have someone to protect.
"I..."
It was his fault.
"I'm sorry."
But sorry would never be good enough.
"I promise. I promise you everything. I just... I'm sorry."
It would never be enough. But still, he said it. He said it and he stayed by Will's side, reluctant to leave. He was alone now, just as he was before. Alone with his thoughts and his guilt. Alone with his actions and the consequences. Nothing he did or said would bring Will back, but that didn't stop him from trying. Sitting there alone, he had plenty of time to tell Will how he felt. Apologize for the things he'd done and the secrets he'd kept. He made promises that he knew he probably wouldn't be able to keep, and told him his reasons for fighting as long as he had.
But it was never enough.
Alex was alone.
But not alone.
He didn't hear her approach.
Overdose on Adrenaline
-
Casey the Undead*
- Posts: 132
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:27 am
((Rena Peters, continued from I'll Huff and I'll Puff))
Rena stared blankly at the map in front of her, scratching her head. Leaving the Groundskeepers Hut, her plan had seemed foolproof. She was going to find Ridley and Raine's bodies, give them some sort of proper burial or ceremony, and then trek back and try to find Garry and Sunil. Of course, the ridiculously large amount of flaws in this plan starting popping up about ten minutes after she left, when she realized that she wasn't with Ridley and Raine when they died, and she had literally no idea where they had gone.
The only idea she had was to start at the tunnels, which was the last place she'd seen them, but again, the tunnels were large, there were several points of exit and entry, and they still could have gone pretty much anywhere.
There was also the fact that Rena had spent at least half an hour- maybe more, she didn't wear a watch and wasn't particularly good at judging time- wandering around without a map or a compass. When she finally had the bright idea to whip her map out, she realized that she had no idea where she was in relation to the Groundskeepers Hut, and was therefore completely and utterly lost.
Rena sighed, rubbing her temple. A part of her wanted to turn around and go back to Garry and Sunil, but it was impossible. For one, there was that whole "totally lost" thing, and for two, there was that small burst of pride in her chest that made it difficult to want to go back. She figured Dustin would still be there, and if she came back to his smug smirk, his look of I knew you were worthless, then she would probably just yank her own collar until it exploded. Or yank his.
She set out walking again, not really caring if it was aimless. It had been somewhat aimless when she and Ridley had searched for Raine, and yet they'd found the German girl easily enough. Whoever was pulling the strings in this game- God or Danya, she supposed- had not smiled too kindly on her this past week, but it was okay. If they had been nasty to her for a week, maybe they'd cut her a break and let her have this. Just for one day.
It was a strange hope to cling too, but Rena still clung, because it was really all the hope she had left.
Time passed. Again, she wasn't sure how much. At one point Rena stopped and slept, at one point there was an announcement- but it all blurred by in her memory. She was trying hard to forget the announcements, to forget everything else but her goal. Everything smeared together until Rena was half certain she was dreaming.
It was only when a sharp pain snapped through her arm that Rena decided with certainty she was awake. She turned towards the direction of the bullet, shocked. She brought her hand to the wound, and felt the blood coming from it. She had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing- it was just a fact right now. A fact she didn't particularly like.
Now the screaming in her head started. A huge part of her wanted to run- it didn't matter where she was going, so long as she was going fast. There was someone with a gun, someone who was shooting, and if she stayed for much longer the chances of her getting hit increased.
But there was a bigger part of Rena. A part that knew better. A part that remembered Dustin's smirk, that remembered the body in the tunnels, that remembered abandoning Ridley and Raine. There was a part that was done running.
She moved in the direction of the shot as cautiously as she could. She saw the scene- two boys were fighting. She couldn't recognize them at this distance, but she saw the fight- and she saw it end.
One boy just stopped moving. There was something sticking out of his neck. Fear hit Rena. Again, the screaming. Again, the option- she could run. She still had the chance.
And yet she was already fiddling with her pack, already pulling out her club- though it was really more of a stick, or a cane, she realized- already putting it out in front of her. Her mind was made up long before she understood that it was made up.
The killer's back was to her. That gave her the advantage, didn't it? She tightened her grip on her weapon, nodding.
Dustin's smirk flickered through her mind again. This was her chance. It was finally time to prove that she wasn't a waste of space.
She walked forward, as quietly as possible. She stood behind the killer, looking down at him as he sat on the floor.
It was time to prove everybody wrong.
She brought the cane down.
Rena stared blankly at the map in front of her, scratching her head. Leaving the Groundskeepers Hut, her plan had seemed foolproof. She was going to find Ridley and Raine's bodies, give them some sort of proper burial or ceremony, and then trek back and try to find Garry and Sunil. Of course, the ridiculously large amount of flaws in this plan starting popping up about ten minutes after she left, when she realized that she wasn't with Ridley and Raine when they died, and she had literally no idea where they had gone.
The only idea she had was to start at the tunnels, which was the last place she'd seen them, but again, the tunnels were large, there were several points of exit and entry, and they still could have gone pretty much anywhere.
There was also the fact that Rena had spent at least half an hour- maybe more, she didn't wear a watch and wasn't particularly good at judging time- wandering around without a map or a compass. When she finally had the bright idea to whip her map out, she realized that she had no idea where she was in relation to the Groundskeepers Hut, and was therefore completely and utterly lost.
Rena sighed, rubbing her temple. A part of her wanted to turn around and go back to Garry and Sunil, but it was impossible. For one, there was that whole "totally lost" thing, and for two, there was that small burst of pride in her chest that made it difficult to want to go back. She figured Dustin would still be there, and if she came back to his smug smirk, his look of I knew you were worthless, then she would probably just yank her own collar until it exploded. Or yank his.
She set out walking again, not really caring if it was aimless. It had been somewhat aimless when she and Ridley had searched for Raine, and yet they'd found the German girl easily enough. Whoever was pulling the strings in this game- God or Danya, she supposed- had not smiled too kindly on her this past week, but it was okay. If they had been nasty to her for a week, maybe they'd cut her a break and let her have this. Just for one day.
It was a strange hope to cling too, but Rena still clung, because it was really all the hope she had left.
Time passed. Again, she wasn't sure how much. At one point Rena stopped and slept, at one point there was an announcement- but it all blurred by in her memory. She was trying hard to forget the announcements, to forget everything else but her goal. Everything smeared together until Rena was half certain she was dreaming.
It was only when a sharp pain snapped through her arm that Rena decided with certainty she was awake. She turned towards the direction of the bullet, shocked. She brought her hand to the wound, and felt the blood coming from it. She had no idea if that was a good thing or a bad thing- it was just a fact right now. A fact she didn't particularly like.
Now the screaming in her head started. A huge part of her wanted to run- it didn't matter where she was going, so long as she was going fast. There was someone with a gun, someone who was shooting, and if she stayed for much longer the chances of her getting hit increased.
But there was a bigger part of Rena. A part that knew better. A part that remembered Dustin's smirk, that remembered the body in the tunnels, that remembered abandoning Ridley and Raine. There was a part that was done running.
She moved in the direction of the shot as cautiously as she could. She saw the scene- two boys were fighting. She couldn't recognize them at this distance, but she saw the fight- and she saw it end.
One boy just stopped moving. There was something sticking out of his neck. Fear hit Rena. Again, the screaming. Again, the option- she could run. She still had the chance.
And yet she was already fiddling with her pack, already pulling out her club- though it was really more of a stick, or a cane, she realized- already putting it out in front of her. Her mind was made up long before she understood that it was made up.
The killer's back was to her. That gave her the advantage, didn't it? She tightened her grip on her weapon, nodding.
Dustin's smirk flickered through her mind again. This was her chance. It was finally time to prove that she wasn't a waste of space.
She walked forward, as quietly as possible. She stood behind the killer, looking down at him as he sat on the floor.
It was time to prove everybody wrong.
She brought the cane down.
[All GMing approved.]
Son of a bitch!
Damn, that hurt. Getting hit in the back of the head was not a pleasant experience. For a moment, Alex didn't quite know what happened. All he knew was that everything hurt and there was this infernal ringing in his ears that wouldn't go away, and then the world started spinning and he felt horribly nauseous. No. Not now. Not yet. There were more important things to attend to than questioning why the world seemed to be stuck on a top. Somewhere in the back of his head, probably where that lump was going to be forming, he knew exactly why the world was spinning. That meant he had to get up. He had to fight.
It never ended.
Woah, uneasy footing. Steady. Steady. Not so steady.
Before Alex could even fully stand, Rena was on him again. For a girl who seemed so average, she could be ferocious when she needed to be. Again and again, she swung and struck him before he could even tell who it was who was attacking him. But he wouldn't stand for that anymore. No fucking more. No fucking more! Time to make that bitch pay! Alex swung hard, but never felt the impact. But he didn't give up. Again and again, he swung back. Things were still a little fuzzy. Was she even there? No, no, she was there. Just a little further! Alex swung and lunged, stepped forward and managed to give her one good shove.
Finally. Some breathing space.
Why the fuck was this happening? Why now? Couldn't he just get a break, just for one fucking moment? And who the fuck... Rena? Rena fucking Peters? Are you fucking serious? She was the one trying to take him down? She was the one trying to kill him? Fuck that. He was bigger. He was stronger. He knew how to fight. But he was also injured. And she had gotten in more than a few good blows already. The fuck was she saying? The fuck was he thinking? He could do this. No matter how bad his injuries were, he could do this. There was no fucking way he was giving up now. Not after what happened. Not after he...
No time to think. She's coming again. Just need to--
"Fuck!"
Alex fell back on his ass as the Shillelagh passed inches from his face. What the hell did he trip on?
...He really regretted looking.
He didn't want to look at Will. Didn't want to remind himself of what he did. It was his fault. He did that. He stabbed Will. He killed his... his... Alex shook his head and turned his focus back on Rena. He needed a weapon, but the spear was still by the fire. The gun was somewhere, it would take too long to look for it. His shivs... they were still in Will. Sitting there, sticking out of his chest and neck. It was a gruesome choice, but he had no others. Everything was back by the fire with his bags.
With a sickening sound, Alex pulled the shivs from Will's body as he stood, backing away from Rena. He needed room to work. He needed to get away from the body. He could barely hold the shivs, slick with blood. Was it his or Will's? He didn't know anymore. But it didn't matter. He held them as tight as he could and circled around Rena. He put distance between himself and Will, started to close the distance between himself and Rena. He was shaking off the haze and the nausea. Standing was getting easier. And finally, that horrible ringing was starting to fade.
With bloodshot eyes, Alex stared at Rena.
"Bring it, bitch."
Alex edged closer. Backed off and closed in when Rena swung. Maneuvered inside her guard when he could, swung at her. Lunged and backed away. Played with her. Goaded her.
"Come on."
Another swing. Another slash, first blood.
"Hit me."
That one hurt. But it's worth it.
"Harder!"
Pull back, let it pass. Slash again.
"You're pathetic."
Push her. Rile her up. That's it. That's it!
Now!
Rena swung hard and Alex stepped forward, grabbed her arm and brought his other hand down hard on it. Jam the plastic shiv deep in her arm, force her to drop the weapon. Alex pushed her back, tackled her to the ground. Pinned her down.
He stabbed her.
Again and again, he stabbed and slashed at her with the glass blade. Again and again until the blade snapped off in her chest, and still he struck her. Again and again and again again againagainagainagain!
Haa...
Haaa....
Haaaa....
With bloodshot eyes, Alex stared at Rena. Watched her bleeding. Watched her struggling. He watched as she was dying. More blood on his hands. How much longer did she have? There were so many cuts... so many holes. So much blood.
Alex leaned forward. Put his hands around her throat.
No point in letting her suffer.
No point in letting her linger.
"You're lucky."
He didn't let go.
"You get to leave."
More pressure.
"You get to escape."
He didn't let go.
"Goodbye."
Son of a bitch!
Damn, that hurt. Getting hit in the back of the head was not a pleasant experience. For a moment, Alex didn't quite know what happened. All he knew was that everything hurt and there was this infernal ringing in his ears that wouldn't go away, and then the world started spinning and he felt horribly nauseous. No. Not now. Not yet. There were more important things to attend to than questioning why the world seemed to be stuck on a top. Somewhere in the back of his head, probably where that lump was going to be forming, he knew exactly why the world was spinning. That meant he had to get up. He had to fight.
It never ended.
Woah, uneasy footing. Steady. Steady. Not so steady.
Before Alex could even fully stand, Rena was on him again. For a girl who seemed so average, she could be ferocious when she needed to be. Again and again, she swung and struck him before he could even tell who it was who was attacking him. But he wouldn't stand for that anymore. No fucking more. No fucking more! Time to make that bitch pay! Alex swung hard, but never felt the impact. But he didn't give up. Again and again, he swung back. Things were still a little fuzzy. Was she even there? No, no, she was there. Just a little further! Alex swung and lunged, stepped forward and managed to give her one good shove.
Finally. Some breathing space.
Why the fuck was this happening? Why now? Couldn't he just get a break, just for one fucking moment? And who the fuck... Rena? Rena fucking Peters? Are you fucking serious? She was the one trying to take him down? She was the one trying to kill him? Fuck that. He was bigger. He was stronger. He knew how to fight. But he was also injured. And she had gotten in more than a few good blows already. The fuck was she saying? The fuck was he thinking? He could do this. No matter how bad his injuries were, he could do this. There was no fucking way he was giving up now. Not after what happened. Not after he...
No time to think. She's coming again. Just need to--
"Fuck!"
Alex fell back on his ass as the Shillelagh passed inches from his face. What the hell did he trip on?
...He really regretted looking.
He didn't want to look at Will. Didn't want to remind himself of what he did. It was his fault. He did that. He stabbed Will. He killed his... his... Alex shook his head and turned his focus back on Rena. He needed a weapon, but the spear was still by the fire. The gun was somewhere, it would take too long to look for it. His shivs... they were still in Will. Sitting there, sticking out of his chest and neck. It was a gruesome choice, but he had no others. Everything was back by the fire with his bags.
With a sickening sound, Alex pulled the shivs from Will's body as he stood, backing away from Rena. He needed room to work. He needed to get away from the body. He could barely hold the shivs, slick with blood. Was it his or Will's? He didn't know anymore. But it didn't matter. He held them as tight as he could and circled around Rena. He put distance between himself and Will, started to close the distance between himself and Rena. He was shaking off the haze and the nausea. Standing was getting easier. And finally, that horrible ringing was starting to fade.
With bloodshot eyes, Alex stared at Rena.
"Bring it, bitch."
Alex edged closer. Backed off and closed in when Rena swung. Maneuvered inside her guard when he could, swung at her. Lunged and backed away. Played with her. Goaded her.
"Come on."
Another swing. Another slash, first blood.
"Hit me."
That one hurt. But it's worth it.
"Harder!"
Pull back, let it pass. Slash again.
"You're pathetic."
Push her. Rile her up. That's it. That's it!
Now!
Rena swung hard and Alex stepped forward, grabbed her arm and brought his other hand down hard on it. Jam the plastic shiv deep in her arm, force her to drop the weapon. Alex pushed her back, tackled her to the ground. Pinned her down.
He stabbed her.
Again and again, he stabbed and slashed at her with the glass blade. Again and again until the blade snapped off in her chest, and still he struck her. Again and again and again again againagainagainagain!
Haa...
Haaa....
Haaaa....
With bloodshot eyes, Alex stared at Rena. Watched her bleeding. Watched her struggling. He watched as she was dying. More blood on his hands. How much longer did she have? There were so many cuts... so many holes. So much blood.
Alex leaned forward. Put his hands around her throat.
No point in letting her suffer.
No point in letting her linger.
"You're lucky."
He didn't let go.
"You get to leave."
More pressure.
"You get to escape."
He didn't let go.
"Goodbye."
-
Casey the Undead*
- Posts: 132
- Joined: Mon Sep 03, 2018 6:27 am
For a moment there, Rena actually thought she was winning. She'd caught him by surprise, and really, wasn't that all she needed? She'd heard the announcements, knew that tiny figure skater was off killing everybody- if someone that small could kill two people a day, then why couldn't Rena manage to take out someone who really, truly deserved it?
For a moment there, the battle was one sided, and for that glorious moment Rena lived in the delusion that she might actually win. This kid- Alex - he was a killer, and Rena was his karma, come to make him pay. She swung wildly, aiming only to hit him- enough to make him get his horrid blood all over her. But it wasn't terrible. It wasn't like stepping on the boy in the tunnels. This was good- this was proof that Rena wasn't just a waste of space, proof to Dustin and anyone else who looked at her like she was worthless. She was finally doing something.
She was slammed on her back before she'd even realized that he touched her, and the shock was enough to snatch some of the air out of her lungs. She didn't have time to waste- she didn't know what this kid was packing, but he'd already killed someone, and that meant that he wouldn't hesitate again, right? She pushed herself up, ignoring the blood on her clothes, ignoring the burning in her chest. She was focused on him, on the kid on the ground, on making him realize that he'd done the kind of thing you can't come back from.
She lunged forward again, swinging. He fell over, which knocked Rena slightly off her balance too. She hadn't actually made contact, and the follow through to her swing nearly caused her to trip over her own feet. Rena used some of that ballerina grace- I was a ballerina once, wasn't I? - and managed to steady herself, but her positioning was awkward. She was wasting time. She pulled herself back up to a standing position, ready to lunge again, only to discover that she'd lost the offensive position.
Alex lunged at her, and Rena stepped back. He was smirking, that same damn smirk that Dustin had, that same damn smirk that Jake used to have, back when he was her brother and not just some person she'd never see again. That smirk that used to fill Rena with self-loathing but now just filled with her rage and fury unlike anything she'd ever felt before.
He was playing with her, and Rena knew it. She still had a choice- she could run. Was he so far gone that he'd chase her? He'd catch her if he did, and then what? She'd die like an animal, caught by the hunter.
No. If Rena was dying today, she wasn't going to die like she lived. She was going to die strong.
She attacked again, but he was playing defensively. He drew blood. Pain shot threw Rena, and she could feel the damned blood coming from the wound, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. She had to focus, she had to fight. She attacked again, striking him. It wouldn't be long before one of them caved- now it was a waiting game.
And then he said it. He said that damn word, the word that hissed so violently in Rena's ears she thought she was going to go deaf. Rage welled up inside of her and she screamed. Not in fear this time. This scream had more power than any of her other ones. She ran forward, knowing before he even stabbed her that she had lost. She had let him get to her, but for once she didn't care. It didn't matter. He just needed to know the truth about Rena.
Pain shot threw her, each stab tearing up a new patch of it, but Rena didn't scream again. She still had rage, and each stab just multiplied it. Her fingernails curled into the dirt as he stabbed her in the chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she wouldn't sob. He pinned her down. His weight dug into her flesh, pushed her closer to the dirt. It was as close to 6 feet under as she'd ever get.
He put his hands around her neck. Rena paused, looking him in the eyes. She used the last of her strength to cough out her words before he put the pressure on her throat, took the burning air out of her lungs- before she faded to black.
"I'm not pathetic. I didn't run away. I'm strong...er...stronger....strong..."
He pushed the air out of her, and her words died in her throat. Everything blurred around her- she couldn't tell if it was her soul leaving her body, or just tears filling in her eyes. She felt sorry, for a moment- sorry for Garry, and Sunil, and Harun, and the people who cared about her, who'd hear her name on the announcements and hurt over it. She felt sorry for her parents, who had to watch their daughter die on live television. But she knew that they'd be proud of her. Proud because she'd done something. Proud because she didn't die a monster.
Everything hurt. Every inch of her screamed in pain, but it didn't matter. She'd fought her battle. She may have lost, but it was her time to lose. She was ready now, wasn't she? Not really. You're never ready. But I guess now is better than before. Better than later. I did all I wanted to do.
A small crossed her lips. She'd proved them wrong. She'd proved them all wrong. Eat your heart out Jake, Dustin...Alex. I win.
It was funny. Of all the ways Rena had pictured this moment, she never once thought she'd die happy.
Girl 114- Rena Peters- Deceased.
For a moment there, the battle was one sided, and for that glorious moment Rena lived in the delusion that she might actually win. This kid- Alex - he was a killer, and Rena was his karma, come to make him pay. She swung wildly, aiming only to hit him- enough to make him get his horrid blood all over her. But it wasn't terrible. It wasn't like stepping on the boy in the tunnels. This was good- this was proof that Rena wasn't just a waste of space, proof to Dustin and anyone else who looked at her like she was worthless. She was finally doing something.
She was slammed on her back before she'd even realized that he touched her, and the shock was enough to snatch some of the air out of her lungs. She didn't have time to waste- she didn't know what this kid was packing, but he'd already killed someone, and that meant that he wouldn't hesitate again, right? She pushed herself up, ignoring the blood on her clothes, ignoring the burning in her chest. She was focused on him, on the kid on the ground, on making him realize that he'd done the kind of thing you can't come back from.
She lunged forward again, swinging. He fell over, which knocked Rena slightly off her balance too. She hadn't actually made contact, and the follow through to her swing nearly caused her to trip over her own feet. Rena used some of that ballerina grace- I was a ballerina once, wasn't I? - and managed to steady herself, but her positioning was awkward. She was wasting time. She pulled herself back up to a standing position, ready to lunge again, only to discover that she'd lost the offensive position.
Alex lunged at her, and Rena stepped back. He was smirking, that same damn smirk that Dustin had, that same damn smirk that Jake used to have, back when he was her brother and not just some person she'd never see again. That smirk that used to fill Rena with self-loathing but now just filled with her rage and fury unlike anything she'd ever felt before.
He was playing with her, and Rena knew it. She still had a choice- she could run. Was he so far gone that he'd chase her? He'd catch her if he did, and then what? She'd die like an animal, caught by the hunter.
No. If Rena was dying today, she wasn't going to die like she lived. She was going to die strong.
She attacked again, but he was playing defensively. He drew blood. Pain shot threw Rena, and she could feel the damned blood coming from the wound, but she didn't care. She couldn't care. She had to focus, she had to fight. She attacked again, striking him. It wouldn't be long before one of them caved- now it was a waiting game.
And then he said it. He said that damn word, the word that hissed so violently in Rena's ears she thought she was going to go deaf. Rage welled up inside of her and she screamed. Not in fear this time. This scream had more power than any of her other ones. She ran forward, knowing before he even stabbed her that she had lost. She had let him get to her, but for once she didn't care. It didn't matter. He just needed to know the truth about Rena.
Pain shot threw her, each stab tearing up a new patch of it, but Rena didn't scream again. She still had rage, and each stab just multiplied it. Her fingernails curled into the dirt as he stabbed her in the chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she wouldn't sob. He pinned her down. His weight dug into her flesh, pushed her closer to the dirt. It was as close to 6 feet under as she'd ever get.
He put his hands around her neck. Rena paused, looking him in the eyes. She used the last of her strength to cough out her words before he put the pressure on her throat, took the burning air out of her lungs- before she faded to black.
"I'm not pathetic. I didn't run away. I'm strong...er...stronger....strong..."
He pushed the air out of her, and her words died in her throat. Everything blurred around her- she couldn't tell if it was her soul leaving her body, or just tears filling in her eyes. She felt sorry, for a moment- sorry for Garry, and Sunil, and Harun, and the people who cared about her, who'd hear her name on the announcements and hurt over it. She felt sorry for her parents, who had to watch their daughter die on live television. But she knew that they'd be proud of her. Proud because she'd done something. Proud because she didn't die a monster.
Everything hurt. Every inch of her screamed in pain, but it didn't matter. She'd fought her battle. She may have lost, but it was her time to lose. She was ready now, wasn't she? Not really. You're never ready. But I guess now is better than before. Better than later. I did all I wanted to do.
A small crossed her lips. She'd proved them wrong. She'd proved them all wrong. Eat your heart out Jake, Dustin...Alex. I win.
It was funny. Of all the ways Rena had pictured this moment, she never once thought she'd die happy.
Girl 114- Rena Peters- Deceased.
[Just a note. This thread should now be considered open.]
Rena was still.
Rena was quiet.
Rena was dead.
And Alex just stared.
Wide eyed and almost unbelieving, he stared down at her. His hands still closed around her throat. His fingers still crushing the life from her, even after it had already slipped away. So much blood and so much pain. Hers. His. He didn't know. But he just stared. He just stared. His hands around her throat.
Until they started to tremble.
"Oh god."
They were covered in blood and he couldn't stop them from shaking. They were cold and he couldn't feel the tips. But they were his hands. The very hands he had used to kill William. The very hands that he used to kill Rena. The ones he'd used to climb trees and hills. The ones he'd used to play beautiful music. The ones he'd used to protect himself. The ones he'd promised he would use to protect others.
Alex could do nothing but stare at them.
Even when the shaking stopped, he stared.
Even when the blood dried, he stared.
He just sat and stared at the hands that had taken lives. Stared at the hands that had killed the one he loved. At the hands that killed an innocent person. The hands that had committed the greatest sin twice over. He sat and stared.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't move.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't speak.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't think.
Only when it started to get dark did Alex do anything at all but sit and stare. With one final look down at Rena, Alex walked away. With one final look at William, Alex walked away. Back to the struggling little fire, almost out of fuel. Back to his backpacks and his weapons. Back to his food and his sense of safety and superiority. Back to what little peace of mind he ever managed to eek out on this island. But there was nothing there that would wash away the stain of what he did. All he could do was cover it up, tend his wounds, move on.
Looking at the spear, he was tempted.
Looking at the gun, he was tempted.
Touching his collar, he was tempted.
"You can't just give up."
But he wanted to. So badly, he wanted to.
"You can't just run away."
But it would be so easy. So simple.
"You can't just stop. You have to keep fighting."
But what was the point of it anymore?
"You can't give up. You have to fight."
But...
"No buts. No excuses. You get off your ass and you fight. You survive. You do as you are told, and you survive."
Alright.
Alright.
Alex couldn't give up. He couldn't break his promise. He promised Will that he would survive. He promised, and he couldn't break that promise. He had to survive. At all costs, he had to survive. Besides, there wasn't anything he could do that was worse than what he'd already done. If he gave up now, it was for nothing. If he gave up now, he killed Will and Rena for nothing. No, he had to survive where they could not. He had to survive. So he stared at his hands.
And went to work.
Within a minute, the fire was roaring back to life, and Alex was tending his wounds. He'd done almost as much damage to himself as he'd done to Rena. Cuts up and down his arms, his hands. Slowly swelling knots and lumps where Rena had nailed him with that club of hers. His lip was split again, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He bit his tongue. But he was alive. He had to be thankful for that. He was a survivor and he would continue to survive. Even if, right now, he really didn't want to. But he had to. He had the skills. He was prepared for anything that would come his way now.
Even if he didn't feel it.
His arms were bandaged again. The cut Nick gave him on the first day was now just a pink line up his arm, the scab flaking away. He would carry scars from this place. So many scars. Scars from Nick. Scars from Jimmy. Scars from Ray. Scars from Will and Rena. The scars of his actions.
"You'll carry them for the rest of your life."
Alex stared at his hands. The blood was gone. But he could still see it. He could still feel Rena's neck beneath his grip. He could still feel the knife in his hand as it slid into William's neck. He could still feel it. He could still see it. He could still taste it. The blood was never going to go away. But there in the back of his mind, nagging at him from strange little depth, he was hoping that it never would. That it would always be there. That he would always have a reminder of what he did. Something to ensure that he never forgot the lives he took. The moment he forgot that, the moment he wanted it to not matter, would be the moment he would lose himself.
For now, he didn't have to worry about that.
William's bags lay nearby, next to Rena's. And Daniel Kensrue's as well, for some reason. It wasn't filled with anything but old and partially broken fishing supplies. Fishing line and hooks and old parts of poles. Maybe he could use some of those supplies. No, no. He was sure he could use those supplies. Why did Will have this though?
"You always liked fishing..."
A heavy sigh was all that Alex could muster before he had to turn his focus elsewhere. If he started thinking about that now... Alex sorted through the bags and settled on looking at the gun. Turning it over and over again in his hand. He remembered the safety lecture his dad gave him. He found the manual in Will's bag, and started to read it. It would be simple enough to use. Point. Shoot. Repeat. Point. Shoot. Repeat.
Simple. Easy.
He read the manual. He sorted the supplies. When he had everything repacked, he cut the name tags out of Will's bag, out of Rena's bag. He added them to the bandages around his arms, tying them tight. Just tight enough to cut in to his skin, but loose enough that he could still feel his fingers. Tight enough to always make their presence known. He would never forget.
One thing was strange though. The watch Will had been wearing, the one Alex had taken to keep it safe, to bring it home. It wasn't his. Alex knew Will's watch. This wasn't his watch. It was... worthless.
It was garbage.
So Alex threw it into the fire.
"You hid things from me. You always did. I did the same."
Alex couldn't help it. He couldn't stop thinking about the person who lay not twenty feet away. The person who was lying there in the grass, covered with his own clothing. Lying next to another person, covered much the same. He couldn't stop thinking about them. And he couldn't stop himself.
Alex cried, alone.
Always alone.
Rena was still.
Rena was quiet.
Rena was dead.
And Alex just stared.
Wide eyed and almost unbelieving, he stared down at her. His hands still closed around her throat. His fingers still crushing the life from her, even after it had already slipped away. So much blood and so much pain. Hers. His. He didn't know. But he just stared. He just stared. His hands around her throat.
Until they started to tremble.
"Oh god."
They were covered in blood and he couldn't stop them from shaking. They were cold and he couldn't feel the tips. But they were his hands. The very hands he had used to kill William. The very hands that he used to kill Rena. The ones he'd used to climb trees and hills. The ones he'd used to play beautiful music. The ones he'd used to protect himself. The ones he'd promised he would use to protect others.
Alex could do nothing but stare at them.
Even when the shaking stopped, he stared.
Even when the blood dried, he stared.
He just sat and stared at the hands that had taken lives. Stared at the hands that had killed the one he loved. At the hands that killed an innocent person. The hands that had committed the greatest sin twice over. He sat and stared.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't move.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't speak.
Hours went by. And Alex didn't think.
Only when it started to get dark did Alex do anything at all but sit and stare. With one final look down at Rena, Alex walked away. With one final look at William, Alex walked away. Back to the struggling little fire, almost out of fuel. Back to his backpacks and his weapons. Back to his food and his sense of safety and superiority. Back to what little peace of mind he ever managed to eek out on this island. But there was nothing there that would wash away the stain of what he did. All he could do was cover it up, tend his wounds, move on.
Looking at the spear, he was tempted.
Looking at the gun, he was tempted.
Touching his collar, he was tempted.
"You can't just give up."
But he wanted to. So badly, he wanted to.
"You can't just run away."
But it would be so easy. So simple.
"You can't just stop. You have to keep fighting."
But what was the point of it anymore?
"You can't give up. You have to fight."
But...
"No buts. No excuses. You get off your ass and you fight. You survive. You do as you are told, and you survive."
Alright.
Alright.
Alex couldn't give up. He couldn't break his promise. He promised Will that he would survive. He promised, and he couldn't break that promise. He had to survive. At all costs, he had to survive. Besides, there wasn't anything he could do that was worse than what he'd already done. If he gave up now, it was for nothing. If he gave up now, he killed Will and Rena for nothing. No, he had to survive where they could not. He had to survive. So he stared at his hands.
And went to work.
Within a minute, the fire was roaring back to life, and Alex was tending his wounds. He'd done almost as much damage to himself as he'd done to Rena. Cuts up and down his arms, his hands. Slowly swelling knots and lumps where Rena had nailed him with that club of hers. His lip was split again, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He bit his tongue. But he was alive. He had to be thankful for that. He was a survivor and he would continue to survive. Even if, right now, he really didn't want to. But he had to. He had the skills. He was prepared for anything that would come his way now.
Even if he didn't feel it.
His arms were bandaged again. The cut Nick gave him on the first day was now just a pink line up his arm, the scab flaking away. He would carry scars from this place. So many scars. Scars from Nick. Scars from Jimmy. Scars from Ray. Scars from Will and Rena. The scars of his actions.
"You'll carry them for the rest of your life."
Alex stared at his hands. The blood was gone. But he could still see it. He could still feel Rena's neck beneath his grip. He could still feel the knife in his hand as it slid into William's neck. He could still feel it. He could still see it. He could still taste it. The blood was never going to go away. But there in the back of his mind, nagging at him from strange little depth, he was hoping that it never would. That it would always be there. That he would always have a reminder of what he did. Something to ensure that he never forgot the lives he took. The moment he forgot that, the moment he wanted it to not matter, would be the moment he would lose himself.
For now, he didn't have to worry about that.
William's bags lay nearby, next to Rena's. And Daniel Kensrue's as well, for some reason. It wasn't filled with anything but old and partially broken fishing supplies. Fishing line and hooks and old parts of poles. Maybe he could use some of those supplies. No, no. He was sure he could use those supplies. Why did Will have this though?
"You always liked fishing..."
A heavy sigh was all that Alex could muster before he had to turn his focus elsewhere. If he started thinking about that now... Alex sorted through the bags and settled on looking at the gun. Turning it over and over again in his hand. He remembered the safety lecture his dad gave him. He found the manual in Will's bag, and started to read it. It would be simple enough to use. Point. Shoot. Repeat. Point. Shoot. Repeat.
Simple. Easy.
He read the manual. He sorted the supplies. When he had everything repacked, he cut the name tags out of Will's bag, out of Rena's bag. He added them to the bandages around his arms, tying them tight. Just tight enough to cut in to his skin, but loose enough that he could still feel his fingers. Tight enough to always make their presence known. He would never forget.
One thing was strange though. The watch Will had been wearing, the one Alex had taken to keep it safe, to bring it home. It wasn't his. Alex knew Will's watch. This wasn't his watch. It was... worthless.
It was garbage.
So Alex threw it into the fire.
"You hid things from me. You always did. I did the same."
Alex couldn't help it. He couldn't stop thinking about the person who lay not twenty feet away. The person who was lying there in the grass, covered with his own clothing. Lying next to another person, covered much the same. He couldn't stop thinking about them. And he couldn't stop himself.
Alex cried, alone.
Always alone.
Hours went by.
Alex was still alone.
But there was no more crying. No more tears. No more blood. Alex just sat there, staring at the fire, ignoring the bodies that lay nearby and refusing to glance at his hands. Or his clothes. The blood was still there, in his eyes. There on his hands and under his nails. A stain that would stay with him forever. Even after he had washed it off and changed his clothes and changed his bandages, he still saw the blood. He refused to look at his hands. He refused. He didn't want to be reminded of what he did.
But he would never forget that.
No. No, he had to forget it. If only a little. If only for now. If he kept thinking about it, he would just end up crying again. If he kept thinking about it, he would leave himself open. He couldn't let that happen. He promised to survive. He promised to keep fighting. He promised. And he couldn't break that promise. He just couldn't. So, he refused to look at his hands. He refused to look over at the bodies. He just sat and stared at the fire, until it was time to go. He couldn't stay there anymore. He had to get moving again, especially after the gunfire he heard. It was close, but he didn't care when he heard it. Someone could have been right behind him with a gun, and he wouldn't have cared. Even with the tell tale rat-tat-tat of a Kalashnikov barking just across the grounds, he didn't care.
But now? Now he cared.
He couldn't let himself die. He had to keep his promise. So, he packed up his things. He packed up Rena's things, and Will's thing, and adjusted the tags that were tied around his arm. He made sure they still cut ever so slightly into his skin. Just enough to make their presence known. He would have to adjust these every few hours, it seemed. He would get used to the pain if he didn't. He would get used to the burden. He would get used to the island. Things would become easy. But he didn't want them to be... he didn't. He knew he didn't. But inside, deep inside, he wished they would. That the pain would disappear. That he could be as Rena and Will inside.
Dead.
Numb to the world.
"No, you don't want that. You know you don't. If you become like that, you'll lose yourself. You'll become like Liz, or Maxwell."
But would that be so bad?
"Yes. Yes it would. Now stop sulking and get your ass moving. That Kalashnikov is still out there."
Shaking his head and sighing heavily, Alex grabbed his things. Two large, overstuffed bags. He'd emptied Will's bags, emptied Rena's, and filled his own. They were heavy, and they hung uncomfortably from his back, but he didn't mind. By now, he was used to them. He got used to a lot of things. In fact, he relished the heavy bags. They reminded him of camping. Of packing up his things for a weekend out in the woods with his dad. With his brother. With... with Will.
Alex shook his head again. He holstered the gun in his belt. He kept the extra magazines in his pocket. And he held the Goedendag, the spear, in his hands. It was time to go. Time to leave the campsite, and the bodies, behind. Time to leave as much of the pain behind as he could manage. As he could bear to.
"Time for the hunt, again. Isn't that right?"
"Yes. That's right. You get out their, and you hunt them down. It's all in vain otherwise. Got it? Good."
Time for the hunt.
Alex turned, and walked away.
Away from the bodies.
Away from the pain.
Back to the hunt.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Hunting in The Lesson Today is How To Die.]
Alex was still alone.
But there was no more crying. No more tears. No more blood. Alex just sat there, staring at the fire, ignoring the bodies that lay nearby and refusing to glance at his hands. Or his clothes. The blood was still there, in his eyes. There on his hands and under his nails. A stain that would stay with him forever. Even after he had washed it off and changed his clothes and changed his bandages, he still saw the blood. He refused to look at his hands. He refused. He didn't want to be reminded of what he did.
But he would never forget that.
No. No, he had to forget it. If only a little. If only for now. If he kept thinking about it, he would just end up crying again. If he kept thinking about it, he would leave himself open. He couldn't let that happen. He promised to survive. He promised to keep fighting. He promised. And he couldn't break that promise. He just couldn't. So, he refused to look at his hands. He refused to look over at the bodies. He just sat and stared at the fire, until it was time to go. He couldn't stay there anymore. He had to get moving again, especially after the gunfire he heard. It was close, but he didn't care when he heard it. Someone could have been right behind him with a gun, and he wouldn't have cared. Even with the tell tale rat-tat-tat of a Kalashnikov barking just across the grounds, he didn't care.
But now? Now he cared.
He couldn't let himself die. He had to keep his promise. So, he packed up his things. He packed up Rena's things, and Will's thing, and adjusted the tags that were tied around his arm. He made sure they still cut ever so slightly into his skin. Just enough to make their presence known. He would have to adjust these every few hours, it seemed. He would get used to the pain if he didn't. He would get used to the burden. He would get used to the island. Things would become easy. But he didn't want them to be... he didn't. He knew he didn't. But inside, deep inside, he wished they would. That the pain would disappear. That he could be as Rena and Will inside.
Dead.
Numb to the world.
"No, you don't want that. You know you don't. If you become like that, you'll lose yourself. You'll become like Liz, or Maxwell."
But would that be so bad?
"Yes. Yes it would. Now stop sulking and get your ass moving. That Kalashnikov is still out there."
Shaking his head and sighing heavily, Alex grabbed his things. Two large, overstuffed bags. He'd emptied Will's bags, emptied Rena's, and filled his own. They were heavy, and they hung uncomfortably from his back, but he didn't mind. By now, he was used to them. He got used to a lot of things. In fact, he relished the heavy bags. They reminded him of camping. Of packing up his things for a weekend out in the woods with his dad. With his brother. With... with Will.
Alex shook his head again. He holstered the gun in his belt. He kept the extra magazines in his pocket. And he held the Goedendag, the spear, in his hands. It was time to go. Time to leave the campsite, and the bodies, behind. Time to leave as much of the pain behind as he could manage. As he could bear to.
"Time for the hunt, again. Isn't that right?"
"Yes. That's right. You get out their, and you hunt them down. It's all in vain otherwise. Got it? Good."
Time for the hunt.
Alex turned, and walked away.
Away from the bodies.
Away from the pain.
Back to the hunt.
[Boy #14 - Alex White. Hunting in The Lesson Today is How To Die.]