then you dive in it

[Cicada]

She wasn't going to shame Tonya.

((Kelly Nguyen continued from my face above the water))

Or the broken remnants of her, already starting to turn sour when they'd remained raw and unpasteurized. She was fairly sure it was Tonya anyways, that splatter of ruined flesh on the ground. One eye still survived, the same way a bulbous egg yolk snapped when stirred a bit too hard. Kelly stared at it coldly- the sole bit of non pink or red color left. She and Tonya, she supposed, had never seen eye to eye.

She'd always come off as too simple and too honest. It was a parable for her life, really. To eager to get fucked without protection. It felt... petty to be standing around like this, to be judging someone when they weren't around to defend themselves.

But she kept doing it. Tonya was a lesson, in a way. Though Kelly couldn't say she was too sure what the lesson to be learned was? It seemed like things she'd already figured out. Motivation alone wasn't enough. Everyone had a reason to live- but only one person, just one, could have the best casus belli. It hadn't been Tonya. She'd thought she'd had a drive to make it all the way, but she'd never evolved. She'd never woken from her mortal shell, thrown off the bits of chrysalis, lived a different life. It had always just been her. The teen mom. The sub-par badminton player. A face in the shelter.

Kelly felt most sorry for the kid, she guessed. She wondered if they'd ever see eye to eye. Maybe... Phyllis? Phyllis would understand when she got a bit older. As if that weren't the most cliche of lines.

The machete in Kelly's hand didn't even seem like it had been used. The blade still keen and fresh as if from a butcher's block, whetted by steel. Clean of stains, on both sides.

That was the true indictment of Tonya's character. The rest of her rotting self could be safely forgotten.

((Kelly Nguyen continued in A Filmmakers Apocalypse))