Will's mind was racing as he looked around the room. There was a girl in there, and Will got a quick glance across the layout of the room before his eyes fixed on the most important feature. Harold had a gun. Will froze at the sight. So far, he'd been acting under the assumption that everyone could have a gun, but seeing it confirmed his fear. He didn't have a backup situation to fall back to for when he screws up; he couldn't fight guns with his stick! Perhaps it was already all over.
In the moment before Harold could reassure Will of his intent these thoughts and more sped through Will's mind. Comparatively, the realisation of what Harold had said drifted in at a glacial pace. When it hit him, Will let his arms fall and opened his mouth to say something that never emerged.
Harold wasn't going to kill him! He'd found a friend! The opening stages of the game were over, and Will now had something to work with! A friend with a gun, and a girl who, if looks were any indication, needed protecting. Will had seen her around, but never really talked to her outside class. Her name might've been Hillary or something like that; she seemed smart enough, but might need a bit much protecting. Harold could look after her, if he wanted; Will had other people to save. Not that he wouldn't help if she needed it!
Harold was gesturing towards one of the couches, and was explaining something to the girl. He was already helping her, so Will decided there was nothing to worry about there. Will started strolling over to a couch, a faint smile sneaking its way onto his face when he heard the crack from the back of the building. Raising his stick in both hands, he pointed it to the back of the building, extended as a threat. Though it was a little ridiculous, Will felt he was in control, channelling his focus through his makeshift sword. This time he had friends to back him up. Friends with guns.
Rest and Relaxation
The Rec Center - Open Thread / The Rec Center - NOW CLOSED
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banthesun†
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:49 am
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler banthesun. 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.
(Okay, skipping turn order a few in order to save my character from inactivity)
Upon hearing no other noise inside the theater, Harold decided that maybe he had simply been hearing things. He'd been nervous enough to interpret the noise as a sneeze, and the atmosphere was enough on this island for any person to be jumpy. Giving a sheepish look at the two people who he'd drawn a pistol in front of, he turned from the theater and began to walk back to them.
All things considered, he was lucky that he didn't accidentally discharge a round at Will and Hilary when the announcement suddenly boomed across the island. Instead, he simply leapt for the nearest wall and pressed against it, before suddenly realizing that he recognized that voice. It was the same man who had taken him captive, and judging by the distortion in the voice, it was coming from a loudspeaker of some kind. At first, it seemed to be fairly normal, and then the deaths began to be rattled off, and the self-proclaimed genius suddenly felt very very small. There were killers on this island, quite a few in fact, and some of them had already murdered two people.
Suddenly, a new feeling welled up in Harold, an idea, as it were. If he began to hunt down these killers, to bring them down with skillful shots from the gun hanging limply from one hand, why, he could be a hero. People would be amazed at his prowess, and he could gather followers to himself under the guise of hunting down the murderers on the island. But in reality, he would merely be leading people in to be fish in a barrel, cutting down a large number of sheep in one go. It was brilliant, far better than hunting cowards one by one, and all that he needed to do was hunt down the people who were likely already becoming used to the art of killing and kill them first. How? He would find out when he got there.
At last! This is the makings of a plan! All I need to do is to find one of these people.
Still, as the announcement pointed out, he knew which areas he could narrow down. That only left...more than a dozen large places to investigate, and many smaller ones besides. This would take a lot of leg work.
"You know what, you take care of her," he said to Will. "I've got better things to do, like dealing with murderers who pretend to be our peers. Wish me luck!"
And so, without another word, Harold walked out the door of the recreation center, not even paying heed to the man peering in from outside. He was a man on a mission, and he would let nothing stand in his way. He had a gun, and he had a stable mind. This would be simplicity itself.
(Harold Fisher continued in No Rest for the Wicked)
Upon hearing no other noise inside the theater, Harold decided that maybe he had simply been hearing things. He'd been nervous enough to interpret the noise as a sneeze, and the atmosphere was enough on this island for any person to be jumpy. Giving a sheepish look at the two people who he'd drawn a pistol in front of, he turned from the theater and began to walk back to them.
All things considered, he was lucky that he didn't accidentally discharge a round at Will and Hilary when the announcement suddenly boomed across the island. Instead, he simply leapt for the nearest wall and pressed against it, before suddenly realizing that he recognized that voice. It was the same man who had taken him captive, and judging by the distortion in the voice, it was coming from a loudspeaker of some kind. At first, it seemed to be fairly normal, and then the deaths began to be rattled off, and the self-proclaimed genius suddenly felt very very small. There were killers on this island, quite a few in fact, and some of them had already murdered two people.
Suddenly, a new feeling welled up in Harold, an idea, as it were. If he began to hunt down these killers, to bring them down with skillful shots from the gun hanging limply from one hand, why, he could be a hero. People would be amazed at his prowess, and he could gather followers to himself under the guise of hunting down the murderers on the island. But in reality, he would merely be leading people in to be fish in a barrel, cutting down a large number of sheep in one go. It was brilliant, far better than hunting cowards one by one, and all that he needed to do was hunt down the people who were likely already becoming used to the art of killing and kill them first. How? He would find out when he got there.
At last! This is the makings of a plan! All I need to do is to find one of these people.
Still, as the announcement pointed out, he knew which areas he could narrow down. That only left...more than a dozen large places to investigate, and many smaller ones besides. This would take a lot of leg work.
"You know what, you take care of her," he said to Will. "I've got better things to do, like dealing with murderers who pretend to be our peers. Wish me luck!"
And so, without another word, Harold walked out the door of the recreation center, not even paying heed to the man peering in from outside. He was a man on a mission, and he would let nothing stand in his way. He had a gun, and he had a stable mind. This would be simplicity itself.
(Harold Fisher continued in No Rest for the Wicked)
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
What was going on?!
Will had a collar, just like them, Harold had a gun, and now he was shouting at whoever else was in this place, probably just as confused as Hilary was. Shuffling back, she slumped down onto the sofa, paying more attention to her own thoughts than the shit-storm that was inevitably about to happen. She watched the boy walk towards her before raising his weapon, and wondered what those two had heard that she had obviously missed. Maybe this was all part of the prank, making up things about an intruder or something while she sat defenceless in her seat. Looking towards the door, she wondered if she'd be able to leave without the guys noticing, but she'd be slow with those bags on her shoulders, wouldn't she? Although, she could leave them behind - it wasn't like she really needed them, but then this "G056" would probably kill her if they knew that someone had just left it there.
Oh God, why was she thinking about this now? Harold had a gun, and they all had collars. Something horrible was going on, and until she saw proof of what it was exactly, she had no choice but to go along with what she'd been told just a minute before. They were being forced to fight each other, apparently, but that sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world. How would someone kidnap the three of them without anyone noticing? It was stupid, and so was she for even starting to believe it.
Her mind racing, she got to her feet to make for the door, when a horrible screeching sound erupted from the speakers outside.
"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing. Blood! Tragedy! Explosions! Mayhem! You've utterly smashed the record for first day kills; it makes an old man proud to see you all taking his instructions so thoroughly to heart! Congratulations to those of you that are still alive, because you've already outlasted 19 of your classmates."
Her heart broke.
"...No, it can't... i-it can't be..."
"Remi Pierce elected to try and remove his collar. Needless to say, it worked... just not without taking his head off along with it"
She choked.
She couldn't even move. Frozen by the ongoing announcement, she dared not move in fear of joining poor Remi in the great beyond.
Dallas, Warren, Eric, Reika, the list kept going and going, taking an eternity to finish and even longer to sink in completely. This couldn't be happening, could it? It couldn't actually be happening? It was just impossible. This guy was telling them that their classmates had died, had been murdered and savaged by the others in her year. What sense did that make? What reason did these guys have for doing this to her? This was already the most frightened she'd ever found herself, and thinking that it could just be a gigantic wind-up only took her mind back to that one evil night, back home. Shuddering, she pulled her coat further down, in a vain attempt to hide her thighs. No, this was far too elaborate, far too cruel. Why was Hilary always the victim? Why did everyone hate her so much?! She'd done nothing, to anyone, and yet here she was again, being played for the gullible fool she was.
"Well, that's it for today. See you all in twenty-four hours! Well, those of you that are still alive, at least..."
By the time it was over, the girl was visibly shaking on the spot, unable to move. Harold obviously hadn't noticed, deciding to ditch the two of them, and she watched with tearing eyes as he abandoned her just when he'd been starting to explain everything.
Her eyes turned to Will, the only person she had left now.
And she cried.
Her bags fell to the floor alongside herself, and the tears burst forth with a horrifying crash.
"I-I wanna go hooo-ome! I don't want this!! I d-don't like this!! I don't! I don't like this! I don't like this!!"
Will had a collar, just like them, Harold had a gun, and now he was shouting at whoever else was in this place, probably just as confused as Hilary was. Shuffling back, she slumped down onto the sofa, paying more attention to her own thoughts than the shit-storm that was inevitably about to happen. She watched the boy walk towards her before raising his weapon, and wondered what those two had heard that she had obviously missed. Maybe this was all part of the prank, making up things about an intruder or something while she sat defenceless in her seat. Looking towards the door, she wondered if she'd be able to leave without the guys noticing, but she'd be slow with those bags on her shoulders, wouldn't she? Although, she could leave them behind - it wasn't like she really needed them, but then this "G056" would probably kill her if they knew that someone had just left it there.
Oh God, why was she thinking about this now? Harold had a gun, and they all had collars. Something horrible was going on, and until she saw proof of what it was exactly, she had no choice but to go along with what she'd been told just a minute before. They were being forced to fight each other, apparently, but that sounded like the most ridiculous thing in the world. How would someone kidnap the three of them without anyone noticing? It was stupid, and so was she for even starting to believe it.
Her mind racing, she got to her feet to make for the door, when a horrible screeching sound erupted from the speakers outside.
"Kids, I have to say that I'm truly impressed with your first day showing. Blood! Tragedy! Explosions! Mayhem! You've utterly smashed the record for first day kills; it makes an old man proud to see you all taking his instructions so thoroughly to heart! Congratulations to those of you that are still alive, because you've already outlasted 19 of your classmates."
Her heart broke.
"...No, it can't... i-it can't be..."
"Remi Pierce elected to try and remove his collar. Needless to say, it worked... just not without taking his head off along with it"
She choked.
She couldn't even move. Frozen by the ongoing announcement, she dared not move in fear of joining poor Remi in the great beyond.
Dallas, Warren, Eric, Reika, the list kept going and going, taking an eternity to finish and even longer to sink in completely. This couldn't be happening, could it? It couldn't actually be happening? It was just impossible. This guy was telling them that their classmates had died, had been murdered and savaged by the others in her year. What sense did that make? What reason did these guys have for doing this to her? This was already the most frightened she'd ever found herself, and thinking that it could just be a gigantic wind-up only took her mind back to that one evil night, back home. Shuddering, she pulled her coat further down, in a vain attempt to hide her thighs. No, this was far too elaborate, far too cruel. Why was Hilary always the victim? Why did everyone hate her so much?! She'd done nothing, to anyone, and yet here she was again, being played for the gullible fool she was.
"Well, that's it for today. See you all in twenty-four hours! Well, those of you that are still alive, at least..."
By the time it was over, the girl was visibly shaking on the spot, unable to move. Harold obviously hadn't noticed, deciding to ditch the two of them, and she watched with tearing eyes as he abandoned her just when he'd been starting to explain everything.
Her eyes turned to Will, the only person she had left now.
And she cried.
Her bags fell to the floor alongside herself, and the tears burst forth with a horrifying crash.
"I-I wanna go hooo-ome! I don't want this!! I d-don't like this!! I don't! I don't like this! I don't like this!!"
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Hallucinojelly. 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.
There was some conversation going on from inside the room that just instilled fear incarnate into the 19 year old. And while he could only make out bits and pieces... It almost seemed as if the entire situation had diffused on it's own. For no reason whatsoever, with no provocation. That just... didn't happen. It really couldn't have; could it?
He refused to loosen his grip on the slab of concrete which had already began to cut into his palms, however he did calm down enough to lower it from head level, slowly creep around the corner, and peek his head into the room.
And what he saw shocked him almost as much as if he had seen absolute carnage.
Everyone was sitting around and talking. There wasn't more than the standard "We're all about do die" fear in everyone's tone. No imminent danger. When just a moment ago, he had been scared shit-less, getting ready to fight for his life against a mob of crazy teenagers.
And finally, his grip on the slab of concrete relaxed. His fingers loosed until a small splash of blood rolled down the gray piece of earth, pricks from where it was lodged just beginning to bleed. And Chadd didn't even notice. He was just so relieved to see actual, sane people on the island. And with that, he stood. For some strange reason, he felt safe approaching these people suddenly.
*CRUNCH*
No matter how soft the sound was in actuality, to him it was still one of the loudest things that he had ever heard. It signaled that not all the chips were being shown at this particular gathering. There was still something definitely going on here, hidden behind the scenes.
And Chadd wasn't gonna stick around to find out what the fuck it was. Again he assumed his low position, creeping back over to the side of the building. He quickly and quietly collected his provided daypack... And then spun on his heel and fled, off to the north; not that he had any idea where he was going. Just away, that was all that he was concerned with. Away from the deception, away from that situation. Just towards freedom.
((Chadd Crossen continued in Sometimes Sanctuary isn't that Far Away...))
He refused to loosen his grip on the slab of concrete which had already began to cut into his palms, however he did calm down enough to lower it from head level, slowly creep around the corner, and peek his head into the room.
And what he saw shocked him almost as much as if he had seen absolute carnage.
Everyone was sitting around and talking. There wasn't more than the standard "We're all about do die" fear in everyone's tone. No imminent danger. When just a moment ago, he had been scared shit-less, getting ready to fight for his life against a mob of crazy teenagers.
And finally, his grip on the slab of concrete relaxed. His fingers loosed until a small splash of blood rolled down the gray piece of earth, pricks from where it was lodged just beginning to bleed. And Chadd didn't even notice. He was just so relieved to see actual, sane people on the island. And with that, he stood. For some strange reason, he felt safe approaching these people suddenly.
*CRUNCH*
No matter how soft the sound was in actuality, to him it was still one of the loudest things that he had ever heard. It signaled that not all the chips were being shown at this particular gathering. There was still something definitely going on here, hidden behind the scenes.
And Chadd wasn't gonna stick around to find out what the fuck it was. Again he assumed his low position, creeping back over to the side of the building. He quickly and quietly collected his provided daypack... And then spun on his heel and fled, off to the north; not that he had any idea where he was going. Just away, that was all that he was concerned with. Away from the deception, away from that situation. Just towards freedom.
((Chadd Crossen continued in Sometimes Sanctuary isn't that Far Away...))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler T-Fox. 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.
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banthesun†
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:49 am
Only when everything seems to be working out can it all wrong. Will had a party of friends, a safe spot to rest, and time to plan and prepare. For now, he was safe. But then, before Will could even comprehend his fortune Danya took it all away again with a screech of speakers across the island. Will was taken off guard by the announcement. Faces and scenes flashed through his head as the megaphones rattled off a list of names. In his mind he saw kills from the previous versions being re-enacted by his friends and classmates. How many of them were dead already? Will wondered if he should be taking notes; the names were coming too fast for him to take them in. He glanced to Harold and the girl, but they seemed as shocked as he was.
How had so many people died already? Had the Danya's crew dropped everyone in the same location or something? Slowly, Will came to realise what had happened. It was the second day. He must have been hit with extra sleeping gas, or maybe it had affected him worse because he was so skinny. He'd been asleep for a whole day. Either that or the terrorists had dropped them off over the course of a day. Either way, Will realised he was extremely lucky to have woken up at all. What if someone had taken him out while he was still asleep? That would've sucked hard. The realisation made Will finally understand just how much he had control of on this island. How many of those killed were only half awake when they'd been shot by someone they thought a friend? They never had a chance to prove themselves.
Harold's voice snapped Will out of his introspection, and Will turned to look at the boy. His words weren't making sense. Why was he telling Will to look after th- Wait! Why was he leaving? He had the gun; he was a key part here!
"Harold!" Will called, running to the door after him.
As he reached the threshold, Will glanced back, and immediately regretted it. That girl was staring at him. And she was crying. Will stopped, caught between breaths as he made his decision. This girl wasn't helpful! She didn't have a gun; she probably couldn't even wield a stick in combat! She was a liability, probably not even useful as a bullet shield! She wasn't his friend; he couldn't even remember her name! How was he supposed to find Bounce and the others while protecting her? There was no reason to stay and look after her!
Will walked over to the girl.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Standing over her, Will raised his hands awkwardly. He wasn't sure if he should hug her or put his hands on her shoulders or something. He wanted to comfort her but he wasn't sure how. But he wasn't going to be the heatless loser Harold was. He was going to escape this island and save his friends, and he was going to do it while he was protecting this girl! He would show them all!
"Uh, don't worry , it's gonna be alright."
As the words left Will's mouth he felt cruel laughter echo round his mind. Who was he trying to fool?
How had so many people died already? Had the Danya's crew dropped everyone in the same location or something? Slowly, Will came to realise what had happened. It was the second day. He must have been hit with extra sleeping gas, or maybe it had affected him worse because he was so skinny. He'd been asleep for a whole day. Either that or the terrorists had dropped them off over the course of a day. Either way, Will realised he was extremely lucky to have woken up at all. What if someone had taken him out while he was still asleep? That would've sucked hard. The realisation made Will finally understand just how much he had control of on this island. How many of those killed were only half awake when they'd been shot by someone they thought a friend? They never had a chance to prove themselves.
Harold's voice snapped Will out of his introspection, and Will turned to look at the boy. His words weren't making sense. Why was he telling Will to look after th- Wait! Why was he leaving? He had the gun; he was a key part here!
"Harold!" Will called, running to the door after him.
As he reached the threshold, Will glanced back, and immediately regretted it. That girl was staring at him. And she was crying. Will stopped, caught between breaths as he made his decision. This girl wasn't helpful! She didn't have a gun; she probably couldn't even wield a stick in combat! She was a liability, probably not even useful as a bullet shield! She wasn't his friend; he couldn't even remember her name! How was he supposed to find Bounce and the others while protecting her? There was no reason to stay and look after her!
Will walked over to the girl.
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Standing over her, Will raised his hands awkwardly. He wasn't sure if he should hug her or put his hands on her shoulders or something. He wanted to comfort her but he wasn't sure how. But he wasn't going to be the heatless loser Harold was. He was going to escape this island and save his friends, and he was going to do it while he was protecting this girl! He would show them all!
"Uh, don't worry , it's gonna be alright."
As the words left Will's mouth he felt cruel laughter echo round his mind. Who was he trying to fool?
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler banthesun. 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.
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Hallucinojelly†
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 6:17 am
"Uh, don't worry , it's gonna be alright."
Hilary continued to cry; Will's words having fallen onto deaf, inconsolable ears. There was nothing he could do to make her feel better right now, when all she wanted to do was bury herself. What were they supposed to do? People had died out there, and she'd been none the wiser. She didn't even know what was happening to her - she was pathetic. And that's all she'd ever been really, to anyone who knew her. Useless, naive, gullible Hilary, who only managed to bag herself a boyfriend out of pity, and now she was stuck in some rec center in the middle of nowhere. What did this mean? Why on earth was she in this situation to begin with?
Will didn't have the answers, and she doubted she'd find them sitting about here. If she wanted to know what was really going on she'd have to stop her stupid whining and actually do something for herself. It'd be like ice skating again, a whole new experience to prove that she could do anything if she gave herself the chance. Of course, thinking about the rink only brought her mind back to Brock again, and she started to ponder his fate while her tear glands ran the extra mile. If Brock hadn't been mentioned on that announcement, did that mean he was alive? Failing that, was he even here at all, like her? That was it. The answers, some kind of hope; these were things only one person could provide her with, and that person was out there somewhere, hopefully looking for Hilary too.
She sniffed, wiping away the wetness from her face before rising shakily to her feet. Her throat was coarse from crying, but she felt like she owed Will an explanation for what she was about to do. Slinging both packs over her shoulders, she looked up at him through watered eyes.
"I..."
Stuttered breaths as her lungs gasped for air in between every empty sob.
"Will, I-I'm... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I-I've got to- I've gotta- I need to find someone."
She could feel her voice crack under the guilt, but at least she was honest. She was sorry Will wasn't Brock. And she was sorry for leaving him alone because she just couldn't trust him.
Hanging her head, she shuffled carefully past the boy, taking care not to push him aside with her bag. As she reached the door, she took a long look at him while her hand tightened itself around the cold metal of the handle. It reminded her that once she left this room she'd likely never see him again, for one reason or another. The thought caused her to well up again, but she swallowed it back. As soon as she left, she'd have to become strong. She'd need to. If she didn't, this island would offer her nothing in the way of protection, and she'd quickly learn what it was like to have no-one else to depend on.
"...Will."
She hiccuped.
"T-take care."
((Hilary Strand continued in instinctalgorithm))
Hilary continued to cry; Will's words having fallen onto deaf, inconsolable ears. There was nothing he could do to make her feel better right now, when all she wanted to do was bury herself. What were they supposed to do? People had died out there, and she'd been none the wiser. She didn't even know what was happening to her - she was pathetic. And that's all she'd ever been really, to anyone who knew her. Useless, naive, gullible Hilary, who only managed to bag herself a boyfriend out of pity, and now she was stuck in some rec center in the middle of nowhere. What did this mean? Why on earth was she in this situation to begin with?
Will didn't have the answers, and she doubted she'd find them sitting about here. If she wanted to know what was really going on she'd have to stop her stupid whining and actually do something for herself. It'd be like ice skating again, a whole new experience to prove that she could do anything if she gave herself the chance. Of course, thinking about the rink only brought her mind back to Brock again, and she started to ponder his fate while her tear glands ran the extra mile. If Brock hadn't been mentioned on that announcement, did that mean he was alive? Failing that, was he even here at all, like her? That was it. The answers, some kind of hope; these were things only one person could provide her with, and that person was out there somewhere, hopefully looking for Hilary too.
She sniffed, wiping away the wetness from her face before rising shakily to her feet. Her throat was coarse from crying, but she felt like she owed Will an explanation for what she was about to do. Slinging both packs over her shoulders, she looked up at him through watered eyes.
"I..."
Stuttered breaths as her lungs gasped for air in between every empty sob.
"Will, I-I'm... I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, but I-I've got to- I've gotta- I need to find someone."
She could feel her voice crack under the guilt, but at least she was honest. She was sorry Will wasn't Brock. And she was sorry for leaving him alone because she just couldn't trust him.
Hanging her head, she shuffled carefully past the boy, taking care not to push him aside with her bag. As she reached the door, she took a long look at him while her hand tightened itself around the cold metal of the handle. It reminded her that once she left this room she'd likely never see him again, for one reason or another. The thought caused her to well up again, but she swallowed it back. As soon as she left, she'd have to become strong. She'd need to. If she didn't, this island would offer her nothing in the way of protection, and she'd quickly learn what it was like to have no-one else to depend on.
"...Will."
She hiccuped.
"T-take care."
((Hilary Strand continued in instinctalgorithm))
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banthesun†
- Posts: 73
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:49 am
Will hadn't realised what was going on when Hilary began to walk around him. He was planning on checking the kitchen, and wondering where he could find her a good weapon. And then, Will was left standing confused, wondering why she was leaving. They were going to go and look for people, weren't they? As he watched her leave he wanted to call out and stop her, but he hesitated. He wasn't even sure if he'd remembered her name correctly. And then she was gone.
"Hilary..."
Too late.
He felt drained and defeated. Stumbling over to the nearest couch Will threw himself down onto it and tossed his stick to the ground. Lying on his back, Will pushed a hand to his face and closed his eyes. This was a lot harder in real life.
If he'd been sleeping for a whole day at least then why did he feel so tired? Realising he hadn't eaten in all that time was a start, and Will pulled himself upright and started digging through his bag. The bread he'd been given wasn't too bad but seemed to stick in his throat a bit. A bit of water and some jelly beans from his bag helped it down, and soon Will was feeling a bit better. It was time to hop back into action, lying exposed on some couch wasn't helping anything.
Ducking round to the hallway, Will quickly found his way to the kitchen. A quick survey showed that the knives were missing, amongst a few other things. Will wasn't really surprised, but was still disappointed; this wasn't making things any easier. Hopefully, it was the terrorists that had taken them, not one of Will's classmates. Searching thoroughly, Will had a bit of luck, and found himself the other thing he'd been hoping for in the kitchen. Tucked at the back of one of the drawers was a half used container of aluminium foil. Will's throat grew tight; unlike weapons, this wasn't something those terrorists would want him to have.
Trying his hardest to look nonchalant, Will flipped his bag open and drew it close to the edge of the drawer. Pulling the roll out as quickly as he could, he didn't notice that his bag's flap had fallen shut, causing it to get stuck. Cursing rapidly under his breath, Will struggled to fit it into his bag. Eventually stuffing it in, he pulled the flap shut and glanced around. In a panic, Will dashed out of the kitchen. Spotting the back door, he ran out of the building, too scared to even think about what he was doing.
((William Sears continued in Just Close Your Eyes))
"Hilary..."
Too late.
He felt drained and defeated. Stumbling over to the nearest couch Will threw himself down onto it and tossed his stick to the ground. Lying on his back, Will pushed a hand to his face and closed his eyes. This was a lot harder in real life.
If he'd been sleeping for a whole day at least then why did he feel so tired? Realising he hadn't eaten in all that time was a start, and Will pulled himself upright and started digging through his bag. The bread he'd been given wasn't too bad but seemed to stick in his throat a bit. A bit of water and some jelly beans from his bag helped it down, and soon Will was feeling a bit better. It was time to hop back into action, lying exposed on some couch wasn't helping anything.
Ducking round to the hallway, Will quickly found his way to the kitchen. A quick survey showed that the knives were missing, amongst a few other things. Will wasn't really surprised, but was still disappointed; this wasn't making things any easier. Hopefully, it was the terrorists that had taken them, not one of Will's classmates. Searching thoroughly, Will had a bit of luck, and found himself the other thing he'd been hoping for in the kitchen. Tucked at the back of one of the drawers was a half used container of aluminium foil. Will's throat grew tight; unlike weapons, this wasn't something those terrorists would want him to have.
Trying his hardest to look nonchalant, Will flipped his bag open and drew it close to the edge of the drawer. Pulling the roll out as quickly as he could, he didn't notice that his bag's flap had fallen shut, causing it to get stuck. Cursing rapidly under his breath, Will struggled to fit it into his bag. Eventually stuffing it in, he pulled the flap shut and glanced around. In a panic, Will dashed out of the kitchen. Spotting the back door, he ran out of the building, too scared to even think about what he was doing.
((William Sears continued in Just Close Your Eyes))
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