((Mônica Oliveira continued from GAME OVER--))
She’d run. She’d changed directions whenever she nearly ran into something, but her eyes still seared from the gas. Everything was just blurry shapes.
She’d left Jacob behind. Was he dead now? Would she find out tomorrow, or would the terrorists never come back and announce it, and leave her to wonder?
Was anyone still chasing her? Salem? Aracelis? Had any of them even seen her go?
She ran. She ran. She ran until--
Clonk.
Straight into a tree. She bounced off the surface and tumbled backwards onto the snow, before quickly rolling onto all fours. Her shredded hands scrambled in the snow for her sword, finding it and dragging it closer towards her. Then they let go of it, assured it was nearby, and scooped up snow.
Mônica started to rub the snow against her face, trying to wash away the burning sensation the only way she could.
The burning dulled. Just a little. Mônica’s furiously blinking eyes started to bring the world into focus again.
A blurry figure approached her.
Mônica reached for the sword with one hand. Snow tumbled out of the other hand as she put a hand out, palm flat.
“W-wait. Stop.”
YEAAAH!
Day 11, midday-ish. Private. You know why.
With tears in her eyes, Aracelis continued to run after Molly. Occasionally she blinked and wiped at her eye to try and stop the stinging. But still she pursued Molly, keeping her in sight through all the ducking under branches and dodging around trunks.
It was tough going and Aracelis had started to slow down. She’d never been good at stamina over long periods of time, in cheer she’d only needed quick bursts of energy. But as she was beginning to breathe hard Molly collided with a tree.
Aracelis couldn’t keep herself from laughing at the other girl’s misfortune and it only continued when Molly started to beg.
But even as Molly begged, Aracelis had to put her hands on her knees and she heaved breathes.
“Why should I?”
It was tough going and Aracelis had started to slow down. She’d never been good at stamina over long periods of time, in cheer she’d only needed quick bursts of energy. But as she was beginning to breathe hard Molly collided with a tree.
Aracelis couldn’t keep herself from laughing at the other girl’s misfortune and it only continued when Molly started to beg.
But even as Molly begged, Aracelis had to put her hands on her knees and she heaved breathes.
“Why should I?”
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ViolentMedic
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Aracelis was laughing at her. Mônica couldn’t blame her. She must have looked pathetic, had never been anything but pathetic since killing Lúcio. Told herself she was the strong one, and had ceased to be anything but weak the moment he was gone.
“Because--”
Mônica was breathing hard as well, wheezy from sprinting, tear gas, and simple fear. She lowered her hand, and used it to push herself to her feet.
“Because didn’t you… didn’t you hear the explosion? Maybe we… maybe we don’t have to kill each other any more.”
She still gripped the sword tightly, but she didn’t raise it. Not yet. She kept her head lowered, now that she knew what she’d see when she looked up. Shame burning her face, blurring with the red irritation from the gas.
“I… I d-don’t want to kill you, Ari. Not if I don’t have to.”
“Because--”
Mônica was breathing hard as well, wheezy from sprinting, tear gas, and simple fear. She lowered her hand, and used it to push herself to her feet.
“Because didn’t you… didn’t you hear the explosion? Maybe we… maybe we don’t have to kill each other any more.”
She still gripped the sword tightly, but she didn’t raise it. Not yet. She kept her head lowered, now that she knew what she’d see when she looked up. Shame burning her face, blurring with the red irritation from the gas.
“I… I d-don’t want to kill you, Ari. Not if I don’t have to.”
“Oh you don’t want to kill me?” Aracelis snarled, “You had no issues earlier when it suited you.”
She stomped closer to Molly with the baseball bat raised but stopped a safe distance away.
“Whatever that explosion was doesn’t make a difference, you killed Lúcio!”
She took another step forward. But kept her eyes on the sword, knowing exactly how dangerous it could be. She had seen the result of its use first hand.
“It’s not fair that you just get away with it.”
She stomped closer to Molly with the baseball bat raised but stopped a safe distance away.
“Whatever that explosion was doesn’t make a difference, you killed Lúcio!”
She took another step forward. But kept her eyes on the sword, knowing exactly how dangerous it could be. She had seen the result of its use first hand.
“It’s not fair that you just get away with it.”
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ViolentMedic
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“I never wanted to! I thought I had to! You know that Lúcio never would have done it, and you killed Constance! And… and… if it’d come down to just you and Lúcio, he would have killed himself with a smile rather than let you die. I had to… I thought I had to be the bitch! You just… you weren’t meant to wake up!”
Monica raised the sword a little more as Aracelis stepped forward.
“And I… I made a mistake, and I’m sorry! And I’m not going to get away with it if I get home! You think I even have a home waiting for me back there, after this? You think my family will welcome me back?!”
Who knew what would happen if she got back. If she’d been the only survivor, maybe they could have forgiven her.
But now they’d throw her out. She’d be alone. Homeless, too. Who would even give a job to someone like her? Who would talk to her, knowing she was soaked in her twin brother’s blood. And how long would it take her to forgive herself?
Even so, she took another couple of steps back and raised the sword.
“Lúcio wanted us both to survive! To stop playing!” she sobbed. “I could kill you, and this wouldn’t mean anything! Is revenge worth that much?!”
Maybe she would have seemed more credible a threat if her face wasn’t messed up and blotchy, if tears and snot weren’t soaking her skin, if the sword wasn’t trembling violently, if blood wasn’t already trickling down the handle and her grip pained and unsteady.
Monica raised the sword a little more as Aracelis stepped forward.
“And I… I made a mistake, and I’m sorry! And I’m not going to get away with it if I get home! You think I even have a home waiting for me back there, after this? You think my family will welcome me back?!”
Who knew what would happen if she got back. If she’d been the only survivor, maybe they could have forgiven her.
But now they’d throw her out. She’d be alone. Homeless, too. Who would even give a job to someone like her? Who would talk to her, knowing she was soaked in her twin brother’s blood. And how long would it take her to forgive herself?
Even so, she took another couple of steps back and raised the sword.
“Lúcio wanted us both to survive! To stop playing!” she sobbed. “I could kill you, and this wouldn’t mean anything! Is revenge worth that much?!”
Maybe she would have seemed more credible a threat if her face wasn’t messed up and blotchy, if tears and snot weren’t soaking her skin, if the sword wasn’t trembling violently, if blood wasn’t already trickling down the handle and her grip pained and unsteady.
As Molly continued to talk Aracelis dropped her head and stared at the floor. Rapidly blinking back irritation and tears, she didn’t say anything when Molly finished. Instead they fell into a long silence as her hand tightened around the bat.
She sniffed and blinked away tears. Her mind was taken up with images of Lúcio, smiling and laughing. Always ready with a dumb joke to distract her from whatever had angered her. Then she remembered him sitting in the bed, blood seeping out onto the floor.
The bat collided with Molly’s head sending her to the ground.
Aracelis didn’t say anything as she raised it again.
She sniffed and blinked away tears. Her mind was taken up with images of Lúcio, smiling and laughing. Always ready with a dumb joke to distract her from whatever had angered her. Then she remembered him sitting in the bed, blood seeping out onto the floor.
The bat collided with Molly’s head sending her to the ground.
Aracelis didn’t say anything as she raised it again.
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Mônica had seen her coming, but didn’t move fast enough.
The world blurred and spun as wood and metal crunched against her skull and sent her tumbling. There had been tugging and scraping, nails digging in and tearing away at her temple, and blood splattered into her view.
The sword was still in her hands. She swung it where she remembered Aracelis being.
She could barely tell where she hit, eyes blurry now from dizziness on top of the tears and burning, but she could tell she hit something from the drag of the sword. The sword caught, stopped… and her hands hadn’t been ready for it, as the handle jolted out of her hands and the sword toppled into the snow.
Maybe Mônica could have snatched it from the snow, and kept swinging until Aracelis was dead, and she was the one left standing.
But she didn’t.
She just started crawling away towards the trees, blood smearing from her palms, trickling down her face.
Molly had been ready to fight to protect Lucio, even if ultimately she’d fucked it up, but Mônica was too pathetic to protect herself.
The world blurred and spun as wood and metal crunched against her skull and sent her tumbling. There had been tugging and scraping, nails digging in and tearing away at her temple, and blood splattered into her view.
The sword was still in her hands. She swung it where she remembered Aracelis being.
She could barely tell where she hit, eyes blurry now from dizziness on top of the tears and burning, but she could tell she hit something from the drag of the sword. The sword caught, stopped… and her hands hadn’t been ready for it, as the handle jolted out of her hands and the sword toppled into the snow.
Maybe Mônica could have snatched it from the snow, and kept swinging until Aracelis was dead, and she was the one left standing.
But she didn’t.
She just started crawling away towards the trees, blood smearing from her palms, trickling down her face.
Molly had been ready to fight to protect Lucio, even if ultimately she’d fucked it up, but Mônica was too pathetic to protect herself.
Aracelis shrieked as the sword connected with her bent arm, the steel of the blade stopped only by the hard bone of her elbow. The force of the blow jolted the sword from Molly’s grasp and sent it into the snow.
She dropped to her knees in the snow and looked at the wound. There was a clean cut across her the bottom of her forearm and bicep, Aracelis could make out the chunks of muscle through the hole in her jacket and top.
As she looked up from the wound Aracelis saw Molly attempting to crawl away.
She knew that she wouldn’t get another chance, so Aracelis stumbled to her feet and grabbed the bat with her other arm. Lúcio wouldn’t have liked it, but she was doing it to avenge him, or so she told herself.
Lurching forward, Aracelis took the bat in both hands and swung at Molly without control or remorse, over and over and over again.
She dropped to her knees in the snow and looked at the wound. There was a clean cut across her the bottom of her forearm and bicep, Aracelis could make out the chunks of muscle through the hole in her jacket and top.
As she looked up from the wound Aracelis saw Molly attempting to crawl away.
She knew that she wouldn’t get another chance, so Aracelis stumbled to her feet and grabbed the bat with her other arm. Lúcio wouldn’t have liked it, but she was doing it to avenge him, or so she told herself.
Lurching forward, Aracelis took the bat in both hands and swung at Molly without control or remorse, over and over and over again.
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Aracelis gave chase, her arm leaking. Mônica crawled. Not fast enough.
Thunk.
The nails couldn’t have gone too deep, but each one was a lance of white-hot pain.
Thunk.
Another set, each hit five or six piercing pains at a time that blurred together. Mônica kept trying to crawl away, babbling incoherently as she tried to plead through the tears, unable to come up with more than just a chain of begging, barely legible.
Thunk.
Even that just became shrieks and sobs, then whines, then squeaks.
Squelch.
The bat came down, nails digging into the side of cheek, dragging and tearing, ripping up one side of her mouth and jaw, before lifting again. Mônica curled up and attempted to cover her eyes, fearing the fate that she knew Ari had inflicted on someone else—who had it been, had she been told or—
Squelch.
Squelch.
Squelchsquelchsquelch--
At some point it just all became pain, so much so that it overwhelmed any attempt to fight back, and she just remained quiet and curled up.
Crunch. There went some bones on her hand, one nail piercing through her finger to scrape her cheek.
She wouldn’t have been able to tell if she’d died and entered Hell, because she could barely imagine it being much different. But once she’d killed Lúcio, it had always been a choice of Hells that awaited her, even if she told herself that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel of her life, if only she survived long enough to earn it.
Squelch.
But maybe--
Crunch.
--that had always just been a pipe dream.
Squelch.
Mônica parted her fingers, one eye peering through through her bloody fingers, torn and bent. At the girl who decided promises and damnation meant nothing as long as Mônica paid her dues. All she could get out was two and a half slurred words that were mixed in with blood and broken teeth.
“See you th—“
The next blow cracked her skull open, and nothing else close to coherency would go through Mônica’s skull, except for a fleeting image of her brother tumbling down the mountain and landing in front of her, wearing his stupidly oversized orange parka.
S020: Mônica Oliveira – Deceased
23 students to go.
Thunk.
The nails couldn’t have gone too deep, but each one was a lance of white-hot pain.
Thunk.
Another set, each hit five or six piercing pains at a time that blurred together. Mônica kept trying to crawl away, babbling incoherently as she tried to plead through the tears, unable to come up with more than just a chain of begging, barely legible.
Thunk.
Even that just became shrieks and sobs, then whines, then squeaks.
Squelch.
The bat came down, nails digging into the side of cheek, dragging and tearing, ripping up one side of her mouth and jaw, before lifting again. Mônica curled up and attempted to cover her eyes, fearing the fate that she knew Ari had inflicted on someone else—who had it been, had she been told or—
Squelch.
Squelch.
Squelchsquelchsquelch--
At some point it just all became pain, so much so that it overwhelmed any attempt to fight back, and she just remained quiet and curled up.
Crunch. There went some bones on her hand, one nail piercing through her finger to scrape her cheek.
She wouldn’t have been able to tell if she’d died and entered Hell, because she could barely imagine it being much different. But once she’d killed Lúcio, it had always been a choice of Hells that awaited her, even if she told herself that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel of her life, if only she survived long enough to earn it.
Squelch.
But maybe--
Crunch.
--that had always just been a pipe dream.
Squelch.
Mônica parted her fingers, one eye peering through through her bloody fingers, torn and bent. At the girl who decided promises and damnation meant nothing as long as Mônica paid her dues. All she could get out was two and a half slurred words that were mixed in with blood and broken teeth.
“See you th—“
The next blow cracked her skull open, and nothing else close to coherency would go through Mônica’s skull, except for a fleeting image of her brother tumbling down the mountain and landing in front of her, wearing his stupidly oversized orange parka.
S020: Mônica Oliveira – Deceased
23 students to go.
Eventually, after more blows than was necessary, it was done. Aracelis collapsed backward and leaned against a tree, heaving heavy breaths from deep within her lungs. Her arms ached and fell to her sides, unable to be held up anymore as she slid down into a seated position. Molly didn't move from where she lay, no sounds or signs of life came from her former friend. Aracelis felt sick from exertion and a deeper feeling that settled in the deepest recesses of her gut. Shame or guilt perhaps. The knowledge of a broken promise settled heavy over her entire body, weighing her down.
Still, Molly didn't move, even the small twitches of her dying brain faded away and she lay still.
The giant sword lay nearby, Aracelis could see it gleaming in the sun, as well as her own blood coating the blade. With the sick feeling still weighing in her gut Aracelis sat forward onto her hands and knees—she was too tired to stand—and with great effort crawled towards her friends body. She needed medical supplies and it wouldn't make a difference if she used Molly's, the other girl was dead after all. There was no undoing that, so what did it matter if she also stole all of her supplies? It was what she and Leslie had been doing from the beginning.
But as Aracelis properly looked over Molly's body for the first time, she discovered that she had no bag at all. With a low murmur of discontent, Aracelis patted down the corpse, trying in vain to find something she could use, instead all she found was a makeup kit in one of Molly's pockets.
Aracelis pulled it free and held it her hands, it didn't have any value for what she needed but she still put it in her jacket pocket then flopped from her knees onto her back and stared at the sky.
She was so selfish.
After a short time, she realised she needed to do something about the wound in her arm and opened her own bag, and took out the meager supply of bandages that she had left. Using the short strips she wrapped the large cut in her arm that Molly had given her, leaving large sections exposed. She would need Leslie's supplies to help her with the rest but it would do until she got back to him.
As she sat working she looked over at the sword, gleaming in the sun, with her own blood catching the light as it dripped off the blade. She couldn't use it, it was too big for her, and especially unwieldy with the arm wound she had. Aracelis knew she would need to stick to bat that she used to push herself back to her feet. As she picked it back up properly and looked at the bloodied bludgeon she saw bits of hair and skull still stuck to the nails.
So she turned her head away, then began to stumble away.
((Aracelis Fuentes continued elsewhere...))
Still, Molly didn't move, even the small twitches of her dying brain faded away and she lay still.
The giant sword lay nearby, Aracelis could see it gleaming in the sun, as well as her own blood coating the blade. With the sick feeling still weighing in her gut Aracelis sat forward onto her hands and knees—she was too tired to stand—and with great effort crawled towards her friends body. She needed medical supplies and it wouldn't make a difference if she used Molly's, the other girl was dead after all. There was no undoing that, so what did it matter if she also stole all of her supplies? It was what she and Leslie had been doing from the beginning.
But as Aracelis properly looked over Molly's body for the first time, she discovered that she had no bag at all. With a low murmur of discontent, Aracelis patted down the corpse, trying in vain to find something she could use, instead all she found was a makeup kit in one of Molly's pockets.
Aracelis pulled it free and held it her hands, it didn't have any value for what she needed but she still put it in her jacket pocket then flopped from her knees onto her back and stared at the sky.
She was so selfish.
After a short time, she realised she needed to do something about the wound in her arm and opened her own bag, and took out the meager supply of bandages that she had left. Using the short strips she wrapped the large cut in her arm that Molly had given her, leaving large sections exposed. She would need Leslie's supplies to help her with the rest but it would do until she got back to him.
As she sat working she looked over at the sword, gleaming in the sun, with her own blood catching the light as it dripped off the blade. She couldn't use it, it was too big for her, and especially unwieldy with the arm wound she had. Aracelis knew she would need to stick to bat that she used to push herself back to her feet. As she picked it back up properly and looked at the bloodied bludgeon she saw bits of hair and skull still stuck to the nails.
So she turned her head away, then began to stumble away.
((Aracelis Fuentes continued elsewhere...))