She hadn't gotten far. She hadn't even gotten off the beach. The wound Kitty had left in her leg inhibited walking on it far more than she'd realized, not to mention the difficulty in keeping her shit in the bag now that it'd been slashed wide the fuck open. She'd made an effort to move, but ultimately she was stuck. She didn't fancy her chances trying to pick her way back to the research station like this. She simply sat on the beach, staring out at the ocean. Staring at the outside world.
She was never going to see it again.
Truthfully, the fight with Kitty hadn't just wounded her leg; it'd wounded her pride. As she sat here, she couldn't help but dwell, and ponder. She'd made the decision to try to escape as an impulse, without even thinking about the enormity of the task at hand. But what chance had she, or any of them, ever had at actually achieving that? From what she'd seen, they'd cleaned this place out, and they were watching every movement everyone made. There was no real shot at it, and she'd been so fucking stupid for getting her own hopes up on it. At least she hadn't stupidly hoodwinked anyone else into going alone with it and possibly getting their heads blown off for their trouble.
Unfortunately, if she recognized that avenue as closed to her, she didn't really have another. She had no goddamn desire to play this shit the way they wanted her to, regardless of if she even still could. She didn't get along with many people, but she wasn't gonna bloody her hands here. That just left slowly puttering around, waiting for death, knowing inevitably some fucker who'd taken the bait would be all to happy to deliver it. Probably painfully, at that. She didn't know how anyone could stomach doing that. Seemed like a miserable way to go about things, but it also was the only real option available.
...
Or maybe...
...
If death was inevitable... maybe there was still a better way than that. Some way to end it on her terms.
...
She gingerly picked herself up off the ground, limping to the edge of the shore. Watched how water greeted the earth. She was certain of her path now, but she still needed a moment to brace herself. She shut her eyes, breathing slowly and deliberately, taking in the salty sea air. She heard the roar of the ocean, only barely louder than the roar in her ears. She took one final long, deep breath.
Then she dove in.
The shock of the water as she hit the surface was intense. She'd known it would be cold, but knowing it in her head and actually feeling it were extremely fucking different, as it turned out. The ocean, though not especially violent, still seemed to fight her as she rose to the surface. She knew she only had a little time here, but she'd done it. She was in. There could be no turning back now.
She swam. She fought the ocean, her own rapidly failing body, trying to make it as far from the island as she could before the inevitable hit. She swam as fast as her arms and legs could take her; her injuries didn't inhibit this movement as much as they had trying to walk, though they definitely meant she wasn't in top form anymore. There was little on the horizon for her to measure her progress against, but it felt like maybe the fastest she'd ever swam. Maybe it was just her body freezing over, making the effort ten times worse, that made it feel that way.
She hardly even noticed the collar starting to beep.
Hours later, a corpse washed up on the beach, its neck torn open.
S067 Ingrid Wilde - DECEASED
