"E-Ema?"
Say something, Ema.
"He's..."
Say something goddamnit.
But the sight before her robbed Ema of her ability to speak. Hayley didn't seem to be having much more success herself. The gun was still in her hand, it felt awkward, alien, heavier than it truly was and as though it didn't belong. There wasn't anybody to shoot anyway, so Ema thrust it into her back-pocket. She looked down as she did, and it was a good excuse to avert her eyes from the piteous scene. She didn't look up for a few seconds.
Just what does one say to a person that just saw their boyfriend shot dead? When they're still there, beside the body, trying to tell them to wake up?
There was really nothing Ema could say, not with regards to the late Kyle Portman at least. Not with regards to how Hayley felt about it, either. Perhaps later, but not then. So instead,
"I'm... I'm sorry."
She apologised. Charlene had gotten away, and it was her own fault for not thinking to check the gun was actually usable before trying to shoot. In hindsight, she hadn't even checked the magazine to see if it was empty or not.
"I'm so sorry."
Again, it felt cathartic to repeat herself. And failing to avenge Hayley's loss wasn't all she was apologising for any more. For how she'd reacted to hearing that Hayley had killed on the second day, for instantly assuming the worst. Ema looked back up, rubbing at her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Hayley."
For being so incredulous when introduced as her "best friend". For interrupting her and Kyle when they'd first linked up. If not for that, none of this might have even happened. Apologising again seemed excessive, and there were only so many different ways Ema could put "sorry" into a short sentence. Instead, this time, she moved down to Hayley's height, closer to Kyle's body. She avoided the pool of blood, which was longer expanding fast enough to warrant worrying about it further, and tried not to look at the boy's lifeless eyes, or the slowly fading heart he'd drawn. She looked at Hayley, and with a haste that gave away how unsure she was about it, Ema grasped her in a close embrace.
"Congratulations, you've been promoted to 'shoulder to cry on'."
Ema completely ignored that voice, barely even noticed it in the first place. That was a good sign, only a tiny part of her was remaining stubbornly bitter, and by-and-large, Ema didn't care for it. All she cared for right now was hugging her best friend, making sure she was okay, letting her know she wasn't alone just yet. Silently apologising for everything she regretted - and there was plenty still to list, but the banner of "Being bitter like a complete tosser and hating Hayley way more than she deserved" covered the majority.
"I am so, so sorry."
And the second half, she still hadn't the heart to say.
"And I forgive you."
Ema only hoped Hayley forgave her, too.
Without Love, It Cannot Be Seen
Early Day 6 [Private]
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"I'm sorry, Hayley."
For what? some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her began to grasp on some level the truth, responded, though only in her head. Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong. You haven't hurt anyone. You've held on to me through so much shit. You're still here, you're still with me, you've done the OPPOSITE of wrong, honeybee, at least by me. What would I have without you? Without you, I'd be...
Alone. Say it.
No...no, I have-
Say it.
"I'm so sorry."
Hayley started shaking as her body processed the truth. Her mind was at war with itself because if she didn't accept this, didn't believe it, it hadn't happened. The world was Hayley Kelly's and nothing she didn't accept would be true. This was logical and factual and correct and she was not going to be able to swallow it as such for very much longer. Not with the evidence soaking into her skirt and now with that look Ema was giving her, the look you give a widow at her husband's funeral.
Widow wasn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.
"I'm sorry, Hayley." Some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her began to grasp on some level the truth, wanted to smack this girl. She needed to stop apologizing when she hadn't done anything wrong because if she kept doing it, that meant something was wrong. And nothing was wrong.
You just can't admit that you failed.
Face the fucking facts, girly. He's dead. Kyle's dead and it's all your fault because you decide, you know what'll be great? Lets go fuck in the woods! Yeah, lets leave Vera behind, like anything ever goes wrong when two teenagers decide to fuck in the middle of goddamn nowhere. That's bloody brilliant, isn't it, not selfish or fucking retarded at all. No, of course you're not a pathetic little slut who had to run off and get laid, not a fucking chance-
Please...stop.
You promised. You made a promise. You won't get hurt with me, you said. I'll save you all, you said. I'll protect you, you won't need to kill anyone because I'm here, I'll take the fall, I'll be fucking damned for you, I don't give a fuck even-
I didn't say that.
Don't pretend you didn't think it. You're pathetic. What the fuck did you expect? To just walk away from this island with Kyle and Ema and Maddy and Alex and Isabel and Jay and Dutchy, just skip away into the goddamn sunset? He was going to die anyway. But because you are a selfish, immature, pathetic failure, he's dead now and you need to fucking deal with it.
Look alive, sunshine. You're not dead yet.
Then Ema's arms wrapped around her, and she finally collapsed, trembling, into them, those choking sobs escaping her throat, tears coming back, and some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her had fully grasped the truth, worried for her eyeliner, for her appearance on camera. The rest of her ignored that bit because there were more important things to worry about, pressing matters, here meaning continuing to break down.
"I am so, so sorry."
"Me too," she whispered back, through the sobs, and she was. Sorry for failing. Sorry that she clearly was incapable of protecting anyone. Sorry that she'd apparently been lying all this time, sorry that her presence was proof and protection of absolutely shit-all at the end of the day, sorry that she was sitting here shirtless and covered in her (ex?) boyfriend's blood and crying like a bitch.
Sorry that she wasn't a better guardian. A better friend. A better girlfriend.
Sorry for everything.
Six days on the island. Four kids dead because of me. And I hadn't lost anyone.
Karma's slow, but she's still a bitch.
For what? some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her began to grasp on some level the truth, responded, though only in her head. Why are you apologizing? You didn't do anything wrong. You haven't hurt anyone. You've held on to me through so much shit. You're still here, you're still with me, you've done the OPPOSITE of wrong, honeybee, at least by me. What would I have without you? Without you, I'd be...
Alone. Say it.
No...no, I have-
Say it.
"I'm so sorry."
Hayley started shaking as her body processed the truth. Her mind was at war with itself because if she didn't accept this, didn't believe it, it hadn't happened. The world was Hayley Kelly's and nothing she didn't accept would be true. This was logical and factual and correct and she was not going to be able to swallow it as such for very much longer. Not with the evidence soaking into her skirt and now with that look Ema was giving her, the look you give a widow at her husband's funeral.
Widow wasn't the right word, but it's the first word that comes to mind.
"I'm sorry, Hayley." Some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her began to grasp on some level the truth, wanted to smack this girl. She needed to stop apologizing when she hadn't done anything wrong because if she kept doing it, that meant something was wrong. And nothing was wrong.
You just can't admit that you failed.
Face the fucking facts, girly. He's dead. Kyle's dead and it's all your fault because you decide, you know what'll be great? Lets go fuck in the woods! Yeah, lets leave Vera behind, like anything ever goes wrong when two teenagers decide to fuck in the middle of goddamn nowhere. That's bloody brilliant, isn't it, not selfish or fucking retarded at all. No, of course you're not a pathetic little slut who had to run off and get laid, not a fucking chance-
Please...stop.
You promised. You made a promise. You won't get hurt with me, you said. I'll save you all, you said. I'll protect you, you won't need to kill anyone because I'm here, I'll take the fall, I'll be fucking damned for you, I don't give a fuck even-
I didn't say that.
Don't pretend you didn't think it. You're pathetic. What the fuck did you expect? To just walk away from this island with Kyle and Ema and Maddy and Alex and Isabel and Jay and Dutchy, just skip away into the goddamn sunset? He was going to die anyway. But because you are a selfish, immature, pathetic failure, he's dead now and you need to fucking deal with it.
Look alive, sunshine. You're not dead yet.
Then Ema's arms wrapped around her, and she finally collapsed, trembling, into them, those choking sobs escaping her throat, tears coming back, and some rational part of Hayley, some part that held onto its sanity through the purest denial even as the rest of her had fully grasped the truth, worried for her eyeliner, for her appearance on camera. The rest of her ignored that bit because there were more important things to worry about, pressing matters, here meaning continuing to break down.
"I am so, so sorry."
"Me too," she whispered back, through the sobs, and she was. Sorry for failing. Sorry that she clearly was incapable of protecting anyone. Sorry that she'd apparently been lying all this time, sorry that her presence was proof and protection of absolutely shit-all at the end of the day, sorry that she was sitting here shirtless and covered in her (ex?) boyfriend's blood and crying like a bitch.
Sorry that she wasn't a better guardian. A better friend. A better girlfriend.
Sorry for everything.
Six days on the island. Four kids dead because of me. And I hadn't lost anyone.
Karma's slow, but she's still a bitch.
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At some point, Hayley had started crying. Whilst Ema did take notice, she didn't think much of it, as it was entirely obvious why. She hadn't been there, but all three 'new friends' she'd made on her first day had died, and she knew how it felt to recieve that news. It hadn't been to a gunshot, but she'd also lost a loved one before. She tried her best to disregard how the person in question was Hayley herself. The point was, she knew a considerably less intense version of how Hayley was feeling, and she didn't blame her at all.
"Me too,"
The two stayed that way for quite some time. Ema had no idea exactly how long, she didn't have a watch, and she wasn't counting. Time was immaterial for the moment, time could wait for all she cared, Ema had a friend to comfort. Eventually, though, it dawned on her that they should get moving. If a player came along, they were practically helpless, and if anyone else came along and saw the two of them next to Kyle's body, they could get the wrong idea - and again they were practically helpless. If nothing else, best to find a safer place to grieve.
Slowly, and quite clearly reluctantly, Ema pulled away from her best friend. For a fleeting moment, she found herself not quite able to keep moving away, stuck staring into Hayley's eyes, no more than two feet away from her face. But she caught herself, refused to be involved in one of those cliché moments where the two awkward people don't kiss, and backed off fully. She forced herself to grin - and boy was it obviously forced - and put on that fake-enthusiastic-clearly-not voice. "Come on, stop it, you'll make me cry at this rate..."
A pause. That probably wasn't the best choice of words.
"We need to get our arses in gear, we're sitting ducks like this."
Ema's face was quite clearly not the picture of readiness, so she turned away, took the gun back out of her pocket, and flicked the safety off. No fuck-ups due to that in the future. It never even crossed her mind that the weapon was Hayley's - as much as taking it from James first counted as ownership - or that she should probably give it back. She'd been entirely ready to shoot at Charlene. She'd even tried to. It felt almost natural to have the gun in her hand now.
"Me too,"
The two stayed that way for quite some time. Ema had no idea exactly how long, she didn't have a watch, and she wasn't counting. Time was immaterial for the moment, time could wait for all she cared, Ema had a friend to comfort. Eventually, though, it dawned on her that they should get moving. If a player came along, they were practically helpless, and if anyone else came along and saw the two of them next to Kyle's body, they could get the wrong idea - and again they were practically helpless. If nothing else, best to find a safer place to grieve.
Slowly, and quite clearly reluctantly, Ema pulled away from her best friend. For a fleeting moment, she found herself not quite able to keep moving away, stuck staring into Hayley's eyes, no more than two feet away from her face. But she caught herself, refused to be involved in one of those cliché moments where the two awkward people don't kiss, and backed off fully. She forced herself to grin - and boy was it obviously forced - and put on that fake-enthusiastic-clearly-not voice. "Come on, stop it, you'll make me cry at this rate..."
A pause. That probably wasn't the best choice of words.
"We need to get our arses in gear, we're sitting ducks like this."
Ema's face was quite clearly not the picture of readiness, so she turned away, took the gun back out of her pocket, and flicked the safety off. No fuck-ups due to that in the future. It never even crossed her mind that the weapon was Hayley's - as much as taking it from James first counted as ownership - or that she should probably give it back. She'd been entirely ready to shoot at Charlene. She'd even tried to. It felt almost natural to have the gun in her hand now.
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
As Ema let her go, Hayley felt her own arms automatically wrap themselves around her bare chest, her fingers digging into her sides. She needed to be touched right now, needed someone's arms around her and dammit, if Ema wasn't going to do it, she'd do it herself and that's pathetic. That is REALLY pathetic, even for you. When did you get so dependent? You didn't need him. You would've killed him yourself at endgame if you'd had to.
...
She stared at Ema, hardly seeing her or much of anything for that matter, but that was slowly fading. Her sobs subsided, her eyes began to dry. She was not okay, or anything even faintly resembling okay. In fact, considering her life expectancy, it seemed likely that she would never be okay again. This was the kind of thing that was solved out in the real world with lots of therapy and lots of time- here on Survival of the Fittest you kind of had to shut the fuck up and pretend you were good, all set, ready to go and okay.
She was still shaking, but not only from sadness and no longer provoked by sobs. A measure of something else crept into her system, something hateful and red, something Hayley welcomed because anything was better than crying for the next hour like she had found a likely scenario moments before. Ema was grinning the super-fake grin reserved for those who desperately want to cheer someone up and find themselves completely incapable. Hayley felt like she should return the smile, but her mouth didn't want to move. She settled for more staring, which wasn't really helping matters, particularly on the awkwardness front.
"Come on, stop it, you'll make me cry at this rate..."
Ema, darling, your tactfulness never ceases to amaze.
Hayley blinked, surprised by her own moment of mental clarity, by her apparent regain of the ability to think things that weren't self-deprecating, cruel, or horribly despondent. She took that as a good sign, as a sign that she might actually be able to walk out of this place sometime soon.
That hateful red something was still there. She tried to ignore it, but it made its presence known just enough for Hayley to take notice of exactly what Ema had taken into her possession.
Vera.
"We need to get our arses in gear, we're sitting ducks like this," Ema said, and she was right, but Hayley was only vaguely listening. Her eyes were fixated on that gun.
Vera. Kyle's dead because I left Vera behind. Can't let myself be unprepared. Can't be defenseless. Can't fuck up. Never, ever again. Can't let Ema die. I made a promise, you broke that promise I KNOW, I know. I know. I failed. But I can't fail again. I can still save Ema, yeah? I'm not...I'm not completely useless. I beg to differ. And I don't give two fucks. Give me a chance, let me fight, let me out of my goddamn cage. Me and her are going to live and everyone else can dig their fucking graves right now.
And Charlene? Dead. So dead, so godfucking dead, if someone kills her before I do I'll just have to kill them for fucking daring-
The red burned brighter at the very mention of that name,
Hayley remembered that Ema had been saying something, and knew she should say something, but the only words that would come out of her mouth were-
"That's mine."
One of her hands left its place, gripping her side, to ask for it, Vera, back. Her long nails had left shallow gouges in her skin.
...
She stared at Ema, hardly seeing her or much of anything for that matter, but that was slowly fading. Her sobs subsided, her eyes began to dry. She was not okay, or anything even faintly resembling okay. In fact, considering her life expectancy, it seemed likely that she would never be okay again. This was the kind of thing that was solved out in the real world with lots of therapy and lots of time- here on Survival of the Fittest you kind of had to shut the fuck up and pretend you were good, all set, ready to go and okay.
She was still shaking, but not only from sadness and no longer provoked by sobs. A measure of something else crept into her system, something hateful and red, something Hayley welcomed because anything was better than crying for the next hour like she had found a likely scenario moments before. Ema was grinning the super-fake grin reserved for those who desperately want to cheer someone up and find themselves completely incapable. Hayley felt like she should return the smile, but her mouth didn't want to move. She settled for more staring, which wasn't really helping matters, particularly on the awkwardness front.
"Come on, stop it, you'll make me cry at this rate..."
Ema, darling, your tactfulness never ceases to amaze.
Hayley blinked, surprised by her own moment of mental clarity, by her apparent regain of the ability to think things that weren't self-deprecating, cruel, or horribly despondent. She took that as a good sign, as a sign that she might actually be able to walk out of this place sometime soon.
That hateful red something was still there. She tried to ignore it, but it made its presence known just enough for Hayley to take notice of exactly what Ema had taken into her possession.
Vera.
"We need to get our arses in gear, we're sitting ducks like this," Ema said, and she was right, but Hayley was only vaguely listening. Her eyes were fixated on that gun.
Vera. Kyle's dead because I left Vera behind. Can't let myself be unprepared. Can't be defenseless. Can't fuck up. Never, ever again. Can't let Ema die. I made a promise, you broke that promise I KNOW, I know. I know. I failed. But I can't fail again. I can still save Ema, yeah? I'm not...I'm not completely useless. I beg to differ. And I don't give two fucks. Give me a chance, let me fight, let me out of my goddamn cage. Me and her are going to live and everyone else can dig their fucking graves right now.
And Charlene? Dead. So dead, so godfucking dead, if someone kills her before I do I'll just have to kill them for fucking daring-
The red burned brighter at the very mention of that name,
Hayley remembered that Ema had been saying something, and knew she should say something, but the only words that would come out of her mouth were-
"That's mine."
One of her hands left its place, gripping her side, to ask for it, Vera, back. Her long nails had left shallow gouges in her skin.
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Ema was very aware that the faux-cheerful act didn't become her, and frankly, she was absolutely terrible at it anyway. She was still lamenting her poor choice of words when Hayley spoke up.
"That's mine."
As much as she could pin it on the trauma of what had just happened, there was something about the incredibly flat tone Hayley had addressed her in. She was supposed to be upset, she'd barely finished crying, and then suddenly that blunt remark. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Either way, Ema turned around. The other girl was clearly asking for - no, requesting in a no-is-not-an-answer way - her gun back. And here she was fiddling with it as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Still, Ema might have argued, maybe suggested that it wasn't a great idea for to be carrying something so dangerous in her less-than-stable state, but before she could even consider doing so, her eyes found the parallel red marks on Hayley's midriff. There wasn't even time to berate herself for looking at topless girls when there was surviving to do, the sight was more than a little bit frightening. She almost asked "Are you okay?". No. Stupid question. Of course she isn't. Best response? Do what she says and don't antagonise her if it can at all be helped.
"Oh, sorry, I just kind of..."
The blustered response tailed off, and Ema just handed the weapon over without trying to finish it. She'd just kind of gotten used to having it, though. Just kind of started to like the feeling of power it offered. Just kind of liked having the Godlike power to point, click, kill, at her fingertips. But that paled in comparison to how, to be perfectly honest, she was pretty much terrified of Hayley at that moment.
So speaking of not antagonising her, Ema ducked down and grabbed the discarded shirt on the floor, offering that to her companion as well. At that point, words were infinitely harder to muster than they had been just seconds prior, not unlike how words escaped Ema when she was trying to talk to people she'd not met before; the same underlying fear, but for entirely different reasons. She finally summoned a pitifully small voice.
"You might, uh.. you might want that."
"Good God, Ema, that was pathetic."
"Kyle's dead and Hayley's fucking scary."
"Point taken."
"So, err... what now? We might be able to, uh, catch up to her..." It dawned on Ema that she didn't even know who it was that had caused all of this. "...but we should probably gather our stuff first."
"That's mine."
As much as she could pin it on the trauma of what had just happened, there was something about the incredibly flat tone Hayley had addressed her in. She was supposed to be upset, she'd barely finished crying, and then suddenly that blunt remark. It was unsettling, to say the least.
Either way, Ema turned around. The other girl was clearly asking for - no, requesting in a no-is-not-an-answer way - her gun back. And here she was fiddling with it as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Still, Ema might have argued, maybe suggested that it wasn't a great idea for to be carrying something so dangerous in her less-than-stable state, but before she could even consider doing so, her eyes found the parallel red marks on Hayley's midriff. There wasn't even time to berate herself for looking at topless girls when there was surviving to do, the sight was more than a little bit frightening. She almost asked "Are you okay?". No. Stupid question. Of course she isn't. Best response? Do what she says and don't antagonise her if it can at all be helped.
"Oh, sorry, I just kind of..."
The blustered response tailed off, and Ema just handed the weapon over without trying to finish it. She'd just kind of gotten used to having it, though. Just kind of started to like the feeling of power it offered. Just kind of liked having the Godlike power to point, click, kill, at her fingertips. But that paled in comparison to how, to be perfectly honest, she was pretty much terrified of Hayley at that moment.
So speaking of not antagonising her, Ema ducked down and grabbed the discarded shirt on the floor, offering that to her companion as well. At that point, words were infinitely harder to muster than they had been just seconds prior, not unlike how words escaped Ema when she was trying to talk to people she'd not met before; the same underlying fear, but for entirely different reasons. She finally summoned a pitifully small voice.
"You might, uh.. you might want that."
"Good God, Ema, that was pathetic."
"Kyle's dead and Hayley's fucking scary."
"Point taken."
"So, err... what now? We might be able to, uh, catch up to her..." It dawned on Ema that she didn't even know who it was that had caused all of this. "...but we should probably gather our stuff first."
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Hollyquin†
- Posts: 332
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:24 am
"Oh, sorry, I just kind of..." Ema handed over the gun without further protest and Hayley's hand curled around the grip like it was only the most natural thing in the world. Not like this was her third day waving a gun around, no, more like someone who'd been doing this for a really long time, which was disconcerting even to her. Not disconcerting enough to make her want to put the thing down, of course. Not nearly that disconcerting. In fact having the thing, Vera, back in hand was enough for her to release her other hand's death grip on her side, revealing identical gouges. She could feel the sting of them, but only just. She took her eyes off Ema and looked at Vera instead, and stared at for a little longer than was really okay.
Not letting go. Ever again. Ever, ever again.
She blinked- too little too late for her apparent sanity- and shook her head, breaking the spell the gun and that red feeling were putting under her, at least momentarily. She looked up at Ema instead and tried to smile, tried to make a facial expression that a real person (as opposed to the simulacrum she felt like right now) would make. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. Nothing seemed to reach her eyes, really. Breaking the spell had not brought any life back into her face.
"Oh, sorry, I just kind of..."
Hayley blinked again. Still nothing there. She really wanted to curl up somewhere until she felt like feeling positive things again, something that would presumably happen at some point in the future. She really wanted to find something in her to say to Ema- the poor girl looked scared to death. Probably just freaked out to be this close to a body...of someone she knew. Not to mention under different circumstances, that could have been her. The fact that her mind didn't immediately start exploring the possibilities of the 'under different circumstances' bit was a tribute to the severity of the situation. Doesn't matter. She won't have to be scared anymore, because I'm going to protect her. Nothing like this is going to happen ever, ever again you broke your promise SHUT UP. Never again. I'll be the best fucking bodyguard to ever be. We're gonna do this. We are.
Believe THAT shit.
"You might, uh.. you might want that." Ema spoke so quietly that Hayley almost didn't hear her. She turned her dead eyes to the proffered shirt. It was rather bloody, though admittedly she didn't have much of a choice in attire at the moment. She took it and hugged it close to her like it was a security blanket and not a blood-soaked Beatles shirt, getting both her chest and her shirt bloodier in the process. Productive. Not that she really cared much at the moment. Being properly clothed was really low on her list of priorities under normal circumstances, it certainly wasn't now.
"So, err... what now? We might be able to, uh, catch up to her......but we should probably gather our stuff first."
"Right," Hayley said, managing a response that didn't sound completely robotic. Something was missing from her voice, just like it was missing from her eyes, but at least she was moving. Speaking. She stood, still clutching her bloody shirt, and after a moment of consideration collected her jacket as well. It too was bloody, but it was black and made of relatively thick fabric already, so it didn't seem much changed. After a moment of consideration she pulled the jacket on, buttoning it once in the middle, leaving the t-shirt off.
Slutty as all hell? Well, yes. The blood stains on the jacket and on her chest added a touch of "psychotic murderer" to the skankiness, though. Hayley hardly noticed.
In a moment of clarity, she reached for her pocket. Managed to light a cigarette with shaking hands.
Inhale.
Exhale.
,,,Better.
"Let's go, I guess," she said quietly, taking another pull. She really needed to chain smoke. Preferably with a vodka and cranberry in her other hand. Preferably in Alex's basement at some incredibly trashy party. A girl could dream all she wanted, not like it would get her anywhere. "After I've got my bag I really really just want to go somewhere really far away. I don't think...don't think we'll catch up with her and she'd better hope we don't for her sake because when I catch up with that fucking bitch I'll-"
She stopped herself dead, swallowing her rage by biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Now was not the time or the place. Shaking her head, she took a few steps towards the clearing where they'd left, trusting that Ema would follow. Praying that Ema would follow. She certainly had reason enough not to.
Wait.
Hayley stopped, and took one last lingering look at Kyle.
Kyle Portman. Her last boyfriend.
...God, I'm going to die single.
Some things never change.
[[Hayley Kelly continued Sprint to the Finish Line]]
Not letting go. Ever again. Ever, ever again.
She blinked- too little too late for her apparent sanity- and shook her head, breaking the spell the gun and that red feeling were putting under her, at least momentarily. She looked up at Ema instead and tried to smile, tried to make a facial expression that a real person (as opposed to the simulacrum she felt like right now) would make. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, but the expression didn't reach her eyes. Nothing seemed to reach her eyes, really. Breaking the spell had not brought any life back into her face.
"Oh, sorry, I just kind of..."
Hayley blinked again. Still nothing there. She really wanted to curl up somewhere until she felt like feeling positive things again, something that would presumably happen at some point in the future. She really wanted to find something in her to say to Ema- the poor girl looked scared to death. Probably just freaked out to be this close to a body...of someone she knew. Not to mention under different circumstances, that could have been her. The fact that her mind didn't immediately start exploring the possibilities of the 'under different circumstances' bit was a tribute to the severity of the situation. Doesn't matter. She won't have to be scared anymore, because I'm going to protect her. Nothing like this is going to happen ever, ever again you broke your promise SHUT UP. Never again. I'll be the best fucking bodyguard to ever be. We're gonna do this. We are.
Believe THAT shit.
"You might, uh.. you might want that." Ema spoke so quietly that Hayley almost didn't hear her. She turned her dead eyes to the proffered shirt. It was rather bloody, though admittedly she didn't have much of a choice in attire at the moment. She took it and hugged it close to her like it was a security blanket and not a blood-soaked Beatles shirt, getting both her chest and her shirt bloodier in the process. Productive. Not that she really cared much at the moment. Being properly clothed was really low on her list of priorities under normal circumstances, it certainly wasn't now.
"So, err... what now? We might be able to, uh, catch up to her......but we should probably gather our stuff first."
"Right," Hayley said, managing a response that didn't sound completely robotic. Something was missing from her voice, just like it was missing from her eyes, but at least she was moving. Speaking. She stood, still clutching her bloody shirt, and after a moment of consideration collected her jacket as well. It too was bloody, but it was black and made of relatively thick fabric already, so it didn't seem much changed. After a moment of consideration she pulled the jacket on, buttoning it once in the middle, leaving the t-shirt off.
Slutty as all hell? Well, yes. The blood stains on the jacket and on her chest added a touch of "psychotic murderer" to the skankiness, though. Hayley hardly noticed.
In a moment of clarity, she reached for her pocket. Managed to light a cigarette with shaking hands.
Inhale.
Exhale.
,,,Better.
"Let's go, I guess," she said quietly, taking another pull. She really needed to chain smoke. Preferably with a vodka and cranberry in her other hand. Preferably in Alex's basement at some incredibly trashy party. A girl could dream all she wanted, not like it would get her anywhere. "After I've got my bag I really really just want to go somewhere really far away. I don't think...don't think we'll catch up with her and she'd better hope we don't for her sake because when I catch up with that fucking bitch I'll-"
She stopped herself dead, swallowing her rage by biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Now was not the time or the place. Shaking her head, she took a few steps towards the clearing where they'd left, trusting that Ema would follow. Praying that Ema would follow. She certainly had reason enough not to.
Wait.
Hayley stopped, and took one last lingering look at Kyle.
Kyle Portman. Her last boyfriend.
...God, I'm going to die single.
Some things never change.
[[Hayley Kelly continued Sprint to the Finish Line]]
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hollyquin. 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.
Jacket on. Cigarette lit. Modicum of calm regained. Ordinarily, even if only in jest, Ema would've had something to say about the smoking. She always did, a sort of undeniable urge to passive-agressively complain about the self-destructive habit. But given that neither she nor Hayley had particularly good odds of surviving another week, she kept her mouth shut. Couldn't begrudge someone a small comfort after they'd just seen their boyfriend shot dead, and they'd likely not live to see any health problems from it. Speaking of their odds... Danya had said they were past the 100 mark for deaths, and if there were just short of 300 to start with, that put them nearly halfway. Those that remained were either killers or hanging around them like Ema was. Theoretically, their chance of surviving had improved. In practice? Coming across anyone that was still alive probably wouldn't be pleasant.
"Let's go, I guess,"
Fatalistic musing interrupted, Ema nodded her agreement, and pulled her hood back up. It wasn't quite noon, but the sun was high enough in the sky to be an irritation.
"After I've got my bag I really really just want to go somewhere really far away."
Fair point. Impractical as it was, Ema herself felt a strange desire to return to the Key, where she'd first awoken. She didn't mention it, though.
"I don't think...don't think we'll catch up with her and she'd better hope we don't for her sake because when I catch up with that fucking bitch I'll-"
That one didn't need finishing, Ema could imagine exactly what Hayley wanted to do in retaliation. She shared the feeling herself, a very diluted version, but still the same. She did not appreciate having one of the last few friendly people on the island taken away, or the detrimental effects his death had clearly had on Hayley's psyche.
And with that, Hayley set off back towards the clearing they'd camped at last night. Back to their stuff, back to that sword Ema had grown so fond of lately. It certainly wasn't as god-complex-inducing as the gun, but it still conferred a considerable sense of power, as well as of safety. Unarmed, having given Hayley her weapon back, Ema very much wanted to have her sword back in her hand. She hastened after her lone remaining companion, back to her daypack and her sword. Back to that sense of safety. Away from the gruesome reminder of her mortality.
Along the way, ignoring the voice that told her she'd regret it, Ema managed a single question.
"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"
[Ema Ryan --> Sprint for the Finish Line] - End thread.
"Let's go, I guess,"
Fatalistic musing interrupted, Ema nodded her agreement, and pulled her hood back up. It wasn't quite noon, but the sun was high enough in the sky to be an irritation.
"After I've got my bag I really really just want to go somewhere really far away."
Fair point. Impractical as it was, Ema herself felt a strange desire to return to the Key, where she'd first awoken. She didn't mention it, though.
"I don't think...don't think we'll catch up with her and she'd better hope we don't for her sake because when I catch up with that fucking bitch I'll-"
That one didn't need finishing, Ema could imagine exactly what Hayley wanted to do in retaliation. She shared the feeling herself, a very diluted version, but still the same. She did not appreciate having one of the last few friendly people on the island taken away, or the detrimental effects his death had clearly had on Hayley's psyche.
And with that, Hayley set off back towards the clearing they'd camped at last night. Back to their stuff, back to that sword Ema had grown so fond of lately. It certainly wasn't as god-complex-inducing as the gun, but it still conferred a considerable sense of power, as well as of safety. Unarmed, having given Hayley her weapon back, Ema very much wanted to have her sword back in her hand. She hastened after her lone remaining companion, back to her daypack and her sword. Back to that sense of safety. Away from the gruesome reminder of her mortality.
Along the way, ignoring the voice that told her she'd regret it, Ema managed a single question.
"Do you... do you want to talk about it?"
[Ema Ryan --> Sprint for the Finish Line] - End thread.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Chib. 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.