Stop Crying Your Heart Out

[Emprexx Plush]

It would be reasonable to wonder if Daria felt the resistance under her swing. Perhaps if anything, even the cameras, captured the metallic cling when her nails first made contact against the throwing axe fixed under their jacket before a shallow scrape against their skin drew blood. Some question, as they spoke, if either of them realized Blaise lay in the corner with their eyes closed and their hands wrapped tightly around their gun. Curiosity, yes, certain curiosity about so many details to set the mood when Daria turned finishing what she started over to Stephanie, and how much work either of them expected to remain.

Curiosity, like pain, no longer reached Blaise.

How dare she?

They felt two things in its absence.

How dare she?

Denial.

How dare she?

And rage.

How dare she?

Gal went and dared. What you gonna do about it?

Daria was better off when she offended murderers who did not care to acknowledge her presence. She was savior to nothing. Hero to no one. Mm.

No one who would breathe long enough to praise her for it.

Blaise opened their eyes to stare into Stephanie's crumpled face. Their imagination, perhaps, that when their eyes met they saw all that vengeful, swaggering hope of vengeance died in the grin they have her. It would be satisfying, no? To hear all that bluster and know it was cut down with little but a gesture? Could they rely on her fume and trauma addled brain to connect the dots in so little time that this fucking whore would not die so easily?

Ah, well. Real or imaginary was of no consequence. If their smile could not kill her hopes, the shot they put in her gut would do just as well.

[decoy73]

Stephanie took the bat in her hands, gripped it, ready to strike the killing blow on them.

BANG

Stephanie was rocked back and slumped against the wall next to the mirror. In shock, she looked at Blaise as she saw the hand raised and the barrel. And then the pain and wetness spread in her stomach as fresh blood started to spurt out.

"D-Daria ..." she said. It was weak as hell, and interrupted by more blood. "Send them out, heh, with a whim ..."

FEMALE STUDENT #79: STEPHANIE MCDONALD - ELIMINATED

23 STUDENTS REMAIN

[Grim Wolf]

Was this the third gunshot? It was, right? First with Carrie, facing Quinn; second with Chris, Ty, and Amelia, when Daria had been pretending to be the badass gunslinger girl. Now the third. Rule of threes. Chekhov's gun.

Third gunshot. Steph, slumping back against the mirror, her hands cradling her stomach. Daria, head turning slowly to watch her, as though she were on TV.

"Daria," she said, and something sank in through this submerged distance. "Send them out, heh, with a whim..."

Steph started to slump to the floor. Daria stepped forwards and caught her as she fell, sinking to her knees beside her so she was laid across Daria's lap. She didn't move again. She didn't speak again. And Daria stared at her, her eyes as unseeing as Steph's.

[Emprexx Plush]

Physically the bullet only caught Stephanie. Lodged in some bone or deposit of fat, her spine perhaps, they were unfamiliar with how these things worked. In the most tangible of interpretations it would hurt no one else after accomplishing its singular duty halting Stephanie's assault. Yet it may as well have ricocheted off the wall to bury in Daria's heart with the way she sunk. Bemusement and contempt colored Blaise's expression in equal measure as she watched them fall. Had they been important to each other in some way? A tryst born of staring into their own mortality? Blaise could not say who was doing worse in that arrangement, but their approval was of little consequence. The connection seemed real enough.

"She took something from me. Someone."

Blaise was on their feet and circling to the left.

"Not here. Back home. She stole someone I..." They let the sentence hang with implication. "It did not last. She was only ever a pretty face, but the damage was done." They crossed to wear Stephanie left her make-up atop her bag and gave it a kick. "So I returned the favor. I took the only thing of value she had."

Daria was still unmoving. Good. There was some expectation of back and forth, some disbelief, but if she found it inside herself she did not express it. It gave their words time to echo in her head, they imagined. Denial was so much trickier in silence.

"I wanted her to live."

Perfect conditions to wrap the premise in a more important line.

"To live with the consequences of what she'd done. Killing her would have been easy. Disfiguring her sent the message better." From one of the coat pockets they drew a cigarette in their left hand, then a lighter once it was in their lips. "Yet you wanted to be the hero," they mumbled between puffs, " with no stomach to finish what you began." From Daria's sunken position even Blaise could tower over her at a distance."What was your premise? All deaths are because of this Danya? Mm." Another drag, deep and slow. "I accept this for the others. Here, though." The tip glowed faintly as they gestured down. "We should not allow him credit."

Their pistol returned to their pocket as they turned to leave, cigarette now in their fully functioning hand. It zig zagged with a wave over their shoulder. "Do not worry. Perhaps they will be generous and your name will be next to mine in the morning."

Yes, much better had the bullet caught them both. It would be so much less cruel. If fate was not inclined to spare Daria her mistakes, though, who was Blaise to disagree?

((Blaise And Carl D'Aramitz Continued In The Details In The Devil))

[Grim Wolf]

Staring down at Stephanie, her blood warm and thick against Daria's lap, staring at her numb and insensate and blind while inside her some dim, drowning fragment of consciousness fought and screamed.

Not okay not okay she just lost Jen she's lost so much she's hurt you did this it's not fair gimme something gimme a miracle make her okay Jesus Allah Kali Indra Zeus Athena someone anyone this isn't okay this isn't right we had a plan we had a plan safety comfort love life please please please please just once just once let it work please please please

"She took something from me. Someone."

Daria did not look up. Her eyes were still on Steph's staring at her unblinking, as though if she didn't look away Steph would heal herself, would blink again, would breathe again.

"Not here. Back home. She stole someone I...it did not last. She was only ever a pretty face, but the damage was done." They crossed to wear Stephanie left her make-up atop her bag and gave it a kick. Still, Daria did not look. "So I returned the favor. I took the only thing of value she had."

Daria did not move. The screaming part of her heard what Blaise had said, but could not answer. Still waiting for a miracle. She wanted one. She deserved one.

"I wanted her to live."

Daria flinched as though Blaise had struck her.

"To live with the consequences of what she'd done. Killing her would have been easy. Disfiguring her sent the message better." From one of the coat pockets they drew a cigarette in their left hand, then a lighter once it was in their lips.

"Yet you wanted to be the hero, with no stomach to finish what you began."

The little voice went silent. Everything went silent. Daria felt shrunken down to a mote of dust. She felt like a squirming mouse in the grip of cat. She felt like a squirrel, paralyzed by terror. Her eyes lifted away from Steph's face for the first time, up to Blaise, as the acrid smoke filled the little bathroom.

"What was your premise?" Blaise asked All deaths are because of this Danya? Mm." Blaise took a long, deep drag. "I accept this for the others. Here, though." The tip glowed faintly as they gestured down. "We should not allow him credit."

She turned, waving cheerily over one shoulder. "Do not worry. Perhaps they will be generous and your name will be next to mine in the morning."

Blaise sauntered off from the sight of her murder. Daria stared after her. She had thought she felt lost when she heard Carrie's name on the Announcements, but this feeling now...this dwarfed her, drowned her, engulfed her. Like she was swimming naked in the ocean again, except this time the ocean was black as night, with only the thrashing of nearby sharks to tell Daria exactly how small, weak, and doomed she really was.

Somewhere in that ocean, she heard Blaise's voice, reaching her present from the past.

Thank you. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. It's the least I can do to repay you.

[Grim Wolf]

How long she sat there, on the bathroom floor with her dead friend bleeding into her lap, she didn't know. Her head was sunk so low her neck ached with it, but she couldn't bear to move. Steph's face dwarfed her inner horizon. Her pretty face was bruised, swollen, and bloody. Her split lips were slightly parted, like she was still trying to speak. Her glassy eyes still stared blankly. Daria kept searching those eyes for some sign of life. For some hope of a miracle.

She searched for a long time.

I had almost given up, you know?

Blaise's voice kept whispering. Daria traced one trembling hand down the curve of Steph's jaw, like she would a boyfriend or a girlfriend, to tickle them or draw their attention. And Steph did not move.

The things I have done, they are not for you. I would hate to get you caught up in something.

Slowly, Daria shook her head. Slowly, she eased herself out from under Steph, and tried to stand. Her legs had fallen asleep, and she almost fell over as she stood, and she almost tripped over Steph, and she almost threw up as her whole body convulsed with grief and shame and disgust. Tears burned in her eyes.

We all play, Daria. The game moves on without note for protest. I will make you an offer as well. When you can't do this anymore. When you are ready to lose. Find me. I will make it peaceful.

Daria closed her eyes, shook her head again. She did not want to cry again.

Deep breaths. In. Out. Smell the blood. Smell the death. You knew the stakes of this game from the beginning. You knew the stakes the first time you woke up in this house. You knew the stakes when Carrie died, and when Tony passed, and when you cried downstairs before you saw Blaise. You thought she could be saved.

You said it, this, this monster, he put the guns to our heads. So if I pull the trigger enough times...no. I will not win. But I may walk away with something, and we will all die anyway so, so what is the harm? It's all on him. Not me. Right?

The pins and needles in her legs faded back a little. Daria opened her eyes, and stared down at Steph's face again.

No. Not at Steph's face. At the face of her corpse.

Victory was never an option for you and me.

One more breath, in and out. Then Daria moved. Slowly, gingerly, dreamily, she stepped over Steph's corpse. Slowly, gingerly, dreamily, she picked her way through the house. They had really settled in here, the last few days. Even with everything Daria had gathered, ready for her mission of peace out into the Island, there was plenty to find. Steph's stuff. Her stuff. The little knick-knacks and comforts they'd set up in their placid serenity. The fake garden they'd made, where they'd pretended they wouldn't die. She gathered everything together just outside the bathroom, carefully choosing and discarding what would come with her, until she'd packed a back near to bursting with all their gathered items-including the nail-laden bat she'd struck Blaise with (swung, fell).

Whose tune would i dance to? Yours? Mine? Or Danya's?

When she was sure there was nothing left to pack, she pulled an old sheet from the closet, and carefully wrapped Stephanie's body in it, swaddling her as though she were a baby. Her arms and back strained when she lifted her corpse into the air, and strained again when she lowered her gently into the tub, only her face exposed, glassy eyes still staring into space.

She stripped off her blood-stained clothes, and dug out the last clean clothes she'd brought with her on the long-forgotten trip that had preceded this nightmare--loose, functional jeans and one final pair of plain white underwear. For her top, she raided the closet for a man's red flannel shirt. When she stepped back into the bathroom, she ook a moment to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. Lumberjack, wild-haired woman, with eyes that burned with something like madness.

In the reflection, high up in one corner, she spied a camera.

Why do you speak to the cameras?

"I'm a coward," Daria said--the first words she'd spoken, since before Steph had died. "I'm a coward, pretending I'm brave." She glanced at Steph's body, slumped and lifeless. "Decided...I was gonna die. Decided that meant I wasn't gonna play. Decided...that was enough."

You must have heard. I, there have been so many, I kept telling myself I had no choice but it was wearing hollow, I was going to...but I heard you first.

"You kept saying her name," Daria said. "Blaise's name, I mean. Over and over. Before I really started talking to you. After, too. You said it this morning, but I had my...story. Making a place of peace. Finding people to join me. Telling people what this game was..."

You're so right. It's all his fault.

"Thirty of us left?" Daria asked. "S'what you said, right? Thirty, out of...how many? How many of us were on that trip? How many have you killed?"

Daria's voice was hoarse, and her eyes burned, but she would not let herself cry. That time was past.

"This world's a rotten place, Danyuh. But you're one of the most rotten fuckers in it. You and your friends. What's the point of this, Danyuh? What are you trying to prove?" Her voice shook. "Or maybe there's no point. Maybe you sick fucks just...enjoy this." She managed a trembling laugh. "At this point, I might...I might almost prefer that. Make you proper fucking monsters. I can't imagine there could be anything human in any of you."

They were all his fault. The rest will be too.

"Or in her."

Daria shook her head slowly. "Blaise. Quinn. They're only playing because you gave them the chance. You took the leash off of'em. This all goes back to you. Every death. Every tragedy. You're the source. You're...cancerous, Danyuh. Cancerous like...like I didn't know anyone could be. You're a malignancy in the soul."

"Carrie was right, though. They aren't human anymore. Monsters in their eyes. Is that the plan? You need more demons, so you make'em out of us? Only way to get what you..."

She was rambling. She was shaking. She was so close to sobbing. She was so tired. She was so afraid. She looked at Steph again, and it felt like her heart was cracking. Steph, who she'd barely known; Steph, who'd lost the woman she loved; Steph, who had taken the burden of this game from Daria's shoulders and kept it off of her, who had supported her mad plan to make a place of peace.

Steph, who had screamed for Daria to save her, and had died all the same.

Daria closed her eyes, and breathed. In. Out.

"I wanted peace," she said, eyes still closed. "I wanted to save people. Not their bodies, but their souls. We're all gonna die anyways, right?"

"But some of those souls can't be saved."

She opened her eyes again. She didn't recognize the woman looking at her in the mirror. Not the soul behind her eyes.

"No more peace," Daria said softly. "I'm out for justice. For Blaise. And for you." She turned away from the mirror, glared at the camera. "I'm coming for you. You and every monster you've made. You and all your friends. You're going to get what you deserve."

She looked away from the camera, and knelt besides the path tub. She ran another finger down Steph's jawline, then leaned forward and kissed her friend's corpse on the forehead. Then she closed her eyelids, grabbed a hanging section of sheet, and wrapped it around Steph's face.

She went to the door to the bathroom. She shouldered her pack. She hefted her bat. She paused for just a moment, looking not at the corpse but up into the sky.

"I'm not gonna cry again, Steph," Daria said. "But they will."

(Daria Bhatia continued in ali bomaye)