SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

“Soo-hoo boo-hoo,“ she said accentuating that last syllable, “who would have thought that killing more than the Columbine shooters would get you shitlisted.”

Erika wanted to live.

That was a goal like any other but it was a stupid goal.

“You don’t have any ambition,” she sighed “you’re too short term minded if that’s a thing.”

Paloma shrugged. Erika didn’t think this through, clearly. As long as she killed, the bigger the target grew on top of her. Paloma knew it, she just meant the consequences of it. But it was a balancing act, a fine line between senseless murdering and pragmatism.

Erika had blurred the two to become whatever she was now.

“I’m setting up a future where nobody will bother me.” These were words she didn’t want to say because it was admitting defeat in front of her enemy. “Where nobody will ask me what I want, what I care about, what I think off, what I... whatever.”

She flipped her index at Erika then at the body of Amber.

“But you on the hand, you just want to live even if you’re miserable afterward and you don’t have anybody to care about you,” the venom in her voice her changes to fake pity, “too bad sweetheart, you fucked up your chance at a quiet life.

She tapped a chin once then twice as if she didn’t know the words that were coming out next. But she had rehearsed them mechanically. She was a woman of habit, and Erika was just another one.

“Or maybe you didn’t want one. Maybe you’re like your boyfriend and you just like stirring shit up. I thought opposite attracted,” she crossed her right arm against her chest, “but I guess I was wrong.”

Paloma shrugged again.

“Why don’t you ask him what he thinks? I’m sure he’ll understand.”

That was something. It stung, a bit.

More than a bit.

Paloma knew what to say. Erika looked aside for a moment, processing what she heard. Maybe Paloma was being indignant because she figured she was going to die.

Maybe she’s just a bitch.

There was a lot to say. It was clear where the lines were drawn between them; Paloma made that abundantly clear. Optimism had taken her too far, thinking Paloma was the sort of person who’d want to brag about her actions at length.

She let the comment about Ty slide. It didn’t matter. She couldn't let him matter right now, not unless she had to face him.

Though her confidence wavered for a moment, it quickly returned as she continued to take stock of the situation.

“I'm thinking in the long term. I am ambitious, that’s why you’re still alive. And, you killed a guy everyone seemed to think was Jesus. Punched your ticket, huh? Doesn’t sound like anyone was gonna just let that go. I can’t see them doing it back home, but...”

One thing did stick out though, in what Paloma had said. A future. They were similar enough, just with different goals in mind. Paloma spent more time thinking about the kind of life she wanted to have. Erika just thought life on its own was enough. She couldn’t tell which one of them was in the wrong, on that alone.

From where they were sitting though, she knew.

“A future…” Erika shot Paloma a blank stare, wondering where Paloma had hoped to end up. If the things she’d cherish on the other side of this were the same as the ones she’d try to.

A quiet future.

They were different. Paloma wouldn’t appreciate it. A novel sort of malice rose up in Erika. It wasn’t a question she wanted an answer to. Her finger hovered over the trigger.

It wasn’t like it was with Amber, or any of the others. Maybe Paloma had taught her something, even if she didn’t meant to. Now she just wanted it to hurt. She wanted Paloma to be afraid. That might’ve been what she needed.

“Lemme ask you something. If the way you chose to live, doing what you did to get your quiet future, led you to me - then what was the point?”

“Dude, let’s not get into this fates bullshit or whatever,” she pointed the cameras, “we’re on SOTF, not some low-brow-wants-to-be-high-brow bullshit.”

Paloma moved to a chair. She was tired of standing, but not enough to sit next to next to Amber’s corpse.

“They want blood and gore or whatever, not some fatalist philosophical bullshit your kind gets off to.”

She sat on the chair, it was wood and raw. She felt it through her pants. There were tiny shards of wood going through. As blood continued to pour down her face, she was reminded that she was supposed to do something about her injury.

“Just so you know,” she put the baseball bat on her knees and her elbows on the table, “I’m not going to give you what you want, whatever it is.”

Paloma snorted.

“If you want to see me beg for my life and cry, you’re too late for that. Either shoot me or leave, I don’t care about either options.

“And if you have death wish and you want me to bash your skull in, I don’t need to.

“And finally if you’re just a masochist - which you probably are, let’s face it - you can get your high somewhere else.”

Paloma stared at Erika’s round eyeballs. There wasn’t any fear inside of Paloma.

Just spite.

“I’m not your fucking play doll.”

“Sharp tongue, for a dead girl.” She spat, raising the shotgun.

Blood and gore. That’s all we’ve got left. No answers. No fear. No more of whatever the hell this is.

Inspiring.

One day Erika hoped she’d meet her end with half as much courage. Half as much spite. This wasn’t so different from Tanisha, save one thing; someone like Paloma might’ve deserved to die in fear. Wanting desperately not to be alone at the end and meeting it that way anyways, and precisely because of what she had done. Punishment. Instant karma.

It was what Erika knew was awaiting her, if she failed here. What she probably deserved. She’d need a lifetime to figure out how to meet it any other way.

Walking in here, she hadn’t felt she needed to kill Paloma. Then the girl spelled out just how limited her intentions were on the rest of the island. It wasn’t useful. It wasn’t even interesting. Not something she could turn that anxious part of her mind to, something to focus on or interrogate that distracted her from the images and memories and thoughts and impulses that held her back from doing what had to be done.

In the end, Paloma talked her into it. Blood and gore was what they'd get, then.

Just as her finger tickled the end of the trigger, Erika heard a cough. She froze.

It wasn’t Paloma.

"Wh-"

A sudden breath, a great gasp of life.

Amber's eyelids flew open, as she coughed and hacked. Her right eye began looking around wildly, while her left eye remained curiously still.

Blood dripped down the left side of her head, landing on her shoulder. The right side of her face was drooping, with her right eyelid remaining half open and the corner of her mouth seemingly frozen in a perpetual frown, even as the other side remained neutral.

She turned her head from one side of the room to the other, her right eye focusing briefly on both Paloma and Erika.

"Who... are you?" She asked, her speech slurred, and slow, the right corner of her mouth barely moving with the rest of it. "Where... am I?"

"You're in Hell, loser."

Paloma pointed Erika with her chin.

"That's the loser in charge for you, she'll guide you through Styx and other fuckery."

But her smile dropped and she turned toward Erika again. The shotgun was pointed at her. She was kinda glad that she didn't shoot her now because she got to see Amber rise back from the dead. It was always curious

While it felt good to take jabs at Erika, there was now a new 'threat' at hand. Amber wasn't really dead or maybe she was and Paloma was actually dead and hallucinating her last moments on her Earth. It wouldn't be cool to be stuck here with Loser #1 and Loser #2 for eternity, but she'd take what she'd get.

"Yeah no but really, this is a bad dream, go back to bed."

Should’ve pulled the trigger. Just done it twice. Keep going.

This isn’t right. This wasn’t right. She was dead. Erika shot her in the head and she went down fast, she was sure. She waited. It was over. Amber was over.

Erika couldn’t take her eyes off of Amber. Even though she knew Paloma was still there, still a potential threat. Still spiteful and remorseless and no use at all.

Her face. It didn’t look right. She was only half alive, the eye that moved seemed almost as vacant as the other. Didn’t know their names, or where she was, or what had happened, or what Erika had done to her or what Paloma did before that.

Amber was gone, and she was still here. Everything she was had gone, and she was still breathing.

She’s gone. She’s not gone.

What did that mean?

She didn’t want to say it to herself, but she knew what it meant.

Eyes wide, Erika looked back to Paloma, then to not-Amber once again. Still seemingly unaware of the hole in her head.

This isn’t right.

“Amber… I…”

Shoot. End it.

Words didn’t cut it. She held the shotgun tightly, the end of the barrel trembling slightly as she fumbled around in her own mind, searching for a way to process what she was seeing.

"...Hell?"

Amber looked between the two of them vacantly, for several moments.

"I don't... think I'm dreaming," she slurred. "Something is... wrong..."

Another splash of blood dripped onto her left shoulder. Amber looked at it, only to then reach a shaking hand up to touch the side of her head. She brought it in front of her her face, now bloody. She started at it for several seconds.

"Am I... hurt?"

"Oh gosh, this is actually happening."

Paloma stood up. Her knee hurt but it wasn't as bad as her face. As she walked over to Amber, Erika clearly. She didn't quite feel bad, but it felt wrong. Maybe it was just a ploy to get Paloma near to do her in, and maybe that what's she wanted.

As she bent over next to Amber's bag, she took a look at the extent of the injuries. They were gnarly and bloody. Amber was mangled in more than one pieces, her brain was on the floor and she was still talking. It was kinda fascinating how humans wanted to live despite their body's weaknesses but that wasn't one of their wonders.

"Yeah, this is wrong and yeah, you're hurt." She pointed the shiv. "I stabbed you a bunch then you got a shot by the lady over here."

Then she pointed her face.

"And then you did this but you're forgiven." Paloma put started to pat Amber's body. "We had a girl fight. That's what girls do, we fight then we make up. We're making up right now."

She turned her head toward Erika. She mouthed the word please then she turned back to Amber.

"You should honestly just close your eyes and like wait."

Sputtering through a shattered maw of gore. Wheezing as his body failed him, the poison paralyzing and choking him. Reaching out to her girlfriend, only to find she’d been hit too. Crying, giving up because he couldn’t remember what it was like to be happy. Labored breathing cut short, from unimaginable pain and blood pooling out from gunshot wounds. Laughing. Cowering, alone and exposed.

Death. The last page of a book, after which there’s supposed to be nothing but air. The moment after the heart stops, as the brain follows with it. When all the electrical signals fade. That blank space every single person who ever lived has tried to explain and failed.

She was still there, still awake. And she wasn’t. No mind, no person. She was still talking.

this isn’t right

Like sleeping. That was the best way to go. Fade away into a dream.

look away

Paloma looked at her. Mouthed a plea. Erika couldn’t help but stare back, aghast.

run

The camera peered down at them. It was easy to imagine turning the shotgun on it, so no one could see.

no one should see this

Erika sat up slowly, keeping the shotgun trained on the two of them. Paloma was ruthless, but not unfazed.

“Yeah, Amber. It’s - it’s over now. We made up. You’re - you’re not alone.”

She’s here. She’s on the wall, and the ground. Still breathing.

I’m really here.

And nowhere else.

Amber gazed absentmindedly at the two of them as they spoke, her arm falling back to to her side, thumping against the floor.

"Made up... but I'm hurt... you're hurt..." She slurred, her head turning downwards, her eyes focusing on the shiv protruding from her chest. "This hurts..."

Her bloody hand rose again, towards the shiv, fingers curling around the end of the bone, before abruptly ripping it out. Moving her hand back to her side, she let it go, the shiv emitting a clatter as it hit the floor.

She continued to look at her chest, watching the red stain on her tank top grow in size.

"...Ow."

"Girl-" she put her hand on Amber's but it was too late. The shard was out of her chest. "That is so gross."

Paloma turned back to Erika.

Well, at least Amber wouldn't need to be put down anyways. She was already emptying herself on the floor but she then decided to make it faster. Paloma assumed the part of the brain that got shot out was the one that was made her not self-destroy or something.

It was some fucked up shit.

"Baby girl."

Paloma sighed. She didn't want to feel bad but Jesus. Amber really looked miserable. She was the peak ten and it made Paloma just angry. It wasn't fair. She just have died on the floor and nobody would have cared. But now, Paloma and Erika did. That was super rude of her.

"Please just close your eyes, okay?" Paloma nodded once. "You'll go to sleep and you'll wake up with your boyfriend and you're going to get dicked and it's going to be great, you just need to like let go or something."

Nowhere else.

Didn’t matter when. One day, the ants and worms and fungi would have their fill. Decomposers, returning her to the dirt. Dust to dust. Spread over the forest floor. Life to everything else, but nothing she used to be.

It would happen.

Chest tight. Breathing rapid, and shallow. Held onto the gun, onto what she knew. Wanted to end it. It couldn’t be piecemeal. That wasn’t right.

It was always going to happen.

"You can sleep. It's okay."

Nine pellets. Point blank. All at once. Quickly. It should have been faster.

What if it wasn't fast? What if she saw it coming?



Erika remained still.

More blood dripped onto Amber's shoulder, a bit more quickly than before.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Amber's right eye remained affixed on Paloma, her lips moving to mirror the movements of Paloma's own, only with a noticeable delay.

"Sleep..? But..."

She turned her gaze away from Paloma, staring at the bloody floor underneath her. "Something's wrong... I need... help..."

Her head slumped back against the wall, her right eye now looking off into space. "Someone's... usually here, I think... a friend... my friend, who helps me..."

"Always with me," she whispered.

"...But, something's wrong," she slurred, a hint of urgency beginning to creep into her voice, as she weakly reached her hands up to clutch the sides of her jaw. "She's not... she's not here, and something's wrong..."

Tears began to well up in her eyes, but the rest of her face remained the same. She looked back at Paloma, blankly.

"Are... you my friend?"