((Continued from Unanswered Prayers in the Residential District.))
Things change, and the saying goes that no matter how hard you try, you'll never quite be able to make things like they used to be. That's why there's no such thing as "normal". Things are always changing, and there's no constant. I mean, really, you never know if you're going to wake up the next morning. You don't know if you're going to make it home from school, and you don't know if the family member that's walking out the front door will ever come back home. Life is full of uncertainty like that. But I guess, even through all the uncertainty and the constant changes, I had it good. I had it real good. I had a family that loved me, I definitely wasn't doing without, and my biggest worry was what I was going to do after school.
And then this thing hit...
This "game", this "program", whatever you want to call it. My entire life came to a complete standstill the day I boarded that bus heading out from Franklyn Senior... and I never even knew that the moment my foot hit that metal staircase leading into the bus, that my life would never quite be the same. It never even crossed my mind that a week from that moment, I could be fighting for my life... or worse, that I could be dead. I never even thought something like that was possible, and yet here I am. Somehow, by some miracle of God, I've managed to survive this long, but I really don't know how much longer I can go on... the end of this... "game"... is finally in sight, but even if we make it to the end... what will we do then?
I'll tell you one thing. This sucks.
It hadn't been a long trek from the residential neighborhood to the school building, but the hot summer sun beating down on their bodies certainly made it seem that way. The smoke had finally stopped billowing up from the half-destroyed school, but even in broad daylight, the structure was eerie-looking. Whitney Acosta's eyes scanned the area around them. Nothing. No one. Nothing but silence. Even the birds had flown away, perhaps in search of better things... or maybe the stench of blood and rotting flesh that eminated from the island was too much for them to bear.
"Well... what now?" she inquired, her attention turning to Ricky Callahan.
"I don't know..." Ricky uttered in response.
"You're supposed to be the man with the plan," Whitney joked, "How can you not know?"
"I feel like everything I've done up until this point has been wrong. Why would you trust me now?"
"Because..." she responded quietly, "We've survived this long based on your decisions. Isn't that what matters? That's why you can't give up. That's why you have to keep going on. Because... if it weren't for you, I'd have died a long time ago... so where are we going now?"
Ricky closed his eyes for a moment. He'd based every single action he'd taken throughout the course of the game on some false hope of survival and escape that had formulated in his mind, but somehow, deep in the reaches of his subconscious, he knew that they wouldn't all make it home. Now that this revelation had come to fruition, Ricky found himself with nothing to fall back on. The only thing that they could do this late into the game was play, and even though he'd killed once in this game, nothing seemed worth doing it again. There weren't many left now... the game was almost over. They just had to survive a little longer.
He shrugged his shoulders lightly and headed toward the football field with Whitney following in tow.
Just a little longer...
The Will to Live
The Will to Live
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((I apologize for the double-post, but you know.))
How had it gotten so late so fast? Whitney Acosta's head shot up wildly from the light slumber which she had recklessly allowed herself to doze off into as a barrage of gunshots echoed out from not far away. Her line of vision darted this way and that, searching for the source of the gunshots, but to no avail. She could hear them, just over the horizon, maybe half a mile at most from where she and Ricky were nestled down into the bushes on the outskirts of the school building. Someone was close... way too close, and heavily armed.
She started to rise to her feet in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whoever the shooter was, but she was quickly pulled back to the ground by her companion. She glanced toward him confusedly, only to find that Ricky had been wide awake and watching the events that were unfolding before them the entire time. He motioned for her to duck back down and continued to peer off into the distance. A little ways below the hill on which they were hidden, she could barely see the blonde-headed girl and the other straggly-looking individual that were facing off below.
"What's going on?" she inquired almost inaudibly.
"It's starting..." he muttered.
"What's starting?" she asked confusedly.
"There aren't many of us left alive," Ricky stated flatly, "That blonde down there, that's Mariavel Varella... you remember her, don't you? Of course you do, she killed Matthias... how could you forget? The other guy, it's either Madison or Calvert... I don't know which for sure, never ran into either of the guys. This is it, Whit. Two of them are going into that fight, and I promise you, only one will come out. We're all too close to back down now. Somebody's about to get killed."
"And you've been sitting there, just letting it happen?" she uttered, more as a statement than the question it was meant to be.
"What else would I do? Go try to stop them? I said I didn't feel like I deserved to go home, but those people, they definitely don't. I've killed one person. One..." he stopped short, letting out a shaky breath," But them? They've killed countless. Varella's probably racked up half the island's bodycount by herself. I don't think I deserve to win... but I'm not gonna go getting myself killed by trying to stop two murderers from doing what they do best."
"I see..." Whitney responded quietly, "So what are we gonna do then?"
"I don't know."
Ricky's eyes closed tightly for a moment. For a long time now, he had been resigned to the fact that these would be his last days on the island. He had long since given up on thoughts of hope or escape. In fact, his sole purpose for going on this long had been to keep Whitney alive and to be able to send her home. It was the last promise he had made that hadn't been broken yet, and he had been clinging onto that so desperately that he couldn't let go if he wanted to. Now, part of him saw an opportunity. If he was a good enough shot, he could take out both Varella and the other boy at once, eliminate two players from the game, and bring the competition down to four.
Ricky slowly reached to the ground and pulled the gun from the foliage in which it had been resting. He flicked the safety off and pointed it at the two targets in the distance.
"What're you doing?" Whitney inquired nervously.
"Eliminating the competition," he responded.
"No!" she objected, reaching her hands out and grabbing ahold of the gun.
"Shhh!" he hissed loudly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You can't," Whitney pleaded, "It's just... it's not right."
"So what do you want me to do, Whit? Sit here until one slaughters the other and they come to pick us off too? That's what'll happen. I can kill both of them now. They're cold-blooded murderers, they wouldn't spare your life or mine if they were in this situation. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up."
"But it's... it's just not right, Ricky. If you kill them, you'll be no different from them."
"I'm already just like them," he responded coldly, "Don't you get it? I'm no different from either one of them. It doesn't matter if it's one person or one hundred, I killed somebody. I took their life away. I played God, and I shouldn't have that power. Nobody should have that power. I don't even feel like a human anymore because of... because of all the things that I've done. I'm worthless... I'm nothing but a vessel now. I'm doing this to protect you."
"But..." she started, "Don't... please, don't. I don't want to watch anybody else die..."
"Well, what do you propose we do, then?"
"We..." she began, thinking quickly, "We run. Let them... let them kill one another. You don't need to have any part in it. We run, and we keep running, and we outlast everybody else."
Ricky sighed. It was a far-fetched and half-baked plan at most. It had almost no chance of working. The fact was, Calvert had had a travelling companion through most of his time on the island, or so Ricky had figured from Danya's announcements. The odds of those two offing one another were about as high as the odds of himself and Whitney offing one another. If they ran around too much, Danya would just detonate their collars and kill them all. It probably didn't matter to him if there even was a winner or not. But still, for now, he'd oblige her request.
"Fine," he uttered, "Let's go."
((Continued in Sin))
How had it gotten so late so fast? Whitney Acosta's head shot up wildly from the light slumber which she had recklessly allowed herself to doze off into as a barrage of gunshots echoed out from not far away. Her line of vision darted this way and that, searching for the source of the gunshots, but to no avail. She could hear them, just over the horizon, maybe half a mile at most from where she and Ricky were nestled down into the bushes on the outskirts of the school building. Someone was close... way too close, and heavily armed.
She started to rise to her feet in an attempt to catch a glimpse of whoever the shooter was, but she was quickly pulled back to the ground by her companion. She glanced toward him confusedly, only to find that Ricky had been wide awake and watching the events that were unfolding before them the entire time. He motioned for her to duck back down and continued to peer off into the distance. A little ways below the hill on which they were hidden, she could barely see the blonde-headed girl and the other straggly-looking individual that were facing off below.
"What's going on?" she inquired almost inaudibly.
"It's starting..." he muttered.
"What's starting?" she asked confusedly.
"There aren't many of us left alive," Ricky stated flatly, "That blonde down there, that's Mariavel Varella... you remember her, don't you? Of course you do, she killed Matthias... how could you forget? The other guy, it's either Madison or Calvert... I don't know which for sure, never ran into either of the guys. This is it, Whit. Two of them are going into that fight, and I promise you, only one will come out. We're all too close to back down now. Somebody's about to get killed."
"And you've been sitting there, just letting it happen?" she uttered, more as a statement than the question it was meant to be.
"What else would I do? Go try to stop them? I said I didn't feel like I deserved to go home, but those people, they definitely don't. I've killed one person. One..." he stopped short, letting out a shaky breath," But them? They've killed countless. Varella's probably racked up half the island's bodycount by herself. I don't think I deserve to win... but I'm not gonna go getting myself killed by trying to stop two murderers from doing what they do best."
"I see..." Whitney responded quietly, "So what are we gonna do then?"
"I don't know."
Ricky's eyes closed tightly for a moment. For a long time now, he had been resigned to the fact that these would be his last days on the island. He had long since given up on thoughts of hope or escape. In fact, his sole purpose for going on this long had been to keep Whitney alive and to be able to send her home. It was the last promise he had made that hadn't been broken yet, and he had been clinging onto that so desperately that he couldn't let go if he wanted to. Now, part of him saw an opportunity. If he was a good enough shot, he could take out both Varella and the other boy at once, eliminate two players from the game, and bring the competition down to four.
Ricky slowly reached to the ground and pulled the gun from the foliage in which it had been resting. He flicked the safety off and pointed it at the two targets in the distance.
"What're you doing?" Whitney inquired nervously.
"Eliminating the competition," he responded.
"No!" she objected, reaching her hands out and grabbing ahold of the gun.
"Shhh!" he hissed loudly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You can't," Whitney pleaded, "It's just... it's not right."
"So what do you want me to do, Whit? Sit here until one slaughters the other and they come to pick us off too? That's what'll happen. I can kill both of them now. They're cold-blooded murderers, they wouldn't spare your life or mine if they were in this situation. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up."
"But it's... it's just not right, Ricky. If you kill them, you'll be no different from them."
"I'm already just like them," he responded coldly, "Don't you get it? I'm no different from either one of them. It doesn't matter if it's one person or one hundred, I killed somebody. I took their life away. I played God, and I shouldn't have that power. Nobody should have that power. I don't even feel like a human anymore because of... because of all the things that I've done. I'm worthless... I'm nothing but a vessel now. I'm doing this to protect you."
"But..." she started, "Don't... please, don't. I don't want to watch anybody else die..."
"Well, what do you propose we do, then?"
"We..." she began, thinking quickly, "We run. Let them... let them kill one another. You don't need to have any part in it. We run, and we keep running, and we outlast everybody else."
Ricky sighed. It was a far-fetched and half-baked plan at most. It had almost no chance of working. The fact was, Calvert had had a travelling companion through most of his time on the island, or so Ricky had figured from Danya's announcements. The odds of those two offing one another were about as high as the odds of himself and Whitney offing one another. If they ran around too much, Danya would just detonate their collars and kill them all. It probably didn't matter to him if there even was a winner or not. But still, for now, he'd oblige her request.
"Fine," he uttered, "Let's go."
((Continued in Sin))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Megami. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.