Neill made vague motions to try and restrain Charlotte, who was becoming slightly erratic, failing miserably. Feeling a little bit embarrassed he turned and followed Robert out of the room, wiping his forehead which was sweating with the exertion of... something. Stress, mostly. He fluffed up his hair in a subconscious gesture, sweat and oil causing odd clumps to remain sticking up even after he'd finished, though he had no idea of this, and in his mind's eye he was now looking rather dashingly scruffy, rather than like a bit of an idiot.
"As if we're gonna get rescued," Neill said glumly. He looked round at the assembled people, also considering those who were still in the room, figuring that they were all going to be dead in a few short days' time. He couldn't see any of them winning, the winner was going to be someone off the football team, or hockey team, or something. Someone tough, and probably someone with a good weapon, like a gun. Not a skateboard. Unless he was going to batter someone to death with it.
"We could..." Neill said slowly, "try to barricade the doors or something, see how long we can hold out here for-" the last word trailed off. "Though I guess we don't want to provoke the supreme overlord," he added, allowing the tiniest touch of sarcasm creep in to his tone.
Filling prescriptions
topic closed
-
xylophonefairy†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:55 am
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Sarah seemed fine, despite the massive amount of glass surrounding her. She seemed that just little bit more interested in helping the girl with one eye who stood behind them.
And then, there were more people coming in out of what seemed like nowhere. There was that rich guy from GODSpeed, Bobby Barron, Raymond had finally caught up to him, and then...a girl with white hair.
Brendan tilted his head at the girl. White hair, that wasn't supposed to be possible. Who wanted their hair white? It seemed like a really strange accesory choice to him, but then again he wasn't the one doing anything remotely helpful, like trying to heal her wounds, now was he?
She wanted all the guys out of the room, apparently. He was fine with that. He was just being an idiot standing there, so he wordlessly followed Neill, Raymond, and Bobby out.
Ray spoke up first, inquiring as to what happened. Brendan wasn't really quite sure how to answer to something like that without sounding...needlessly cruel, so, regretably, he kept his mouth shut.
Bobby, the blonde guy, spoke up next. He asked about rescue. Brendan didn't really know how to respond to that, since according to his sources, no one had ever made it out of the game alive. The guy who won the first game, he remember as Adam Dodd, was simply pushed back into it the previous 'season'. The guy who won the second game had, to Brendan's knowledge, disappeared off the face of the earth.
"Umm...rescue, yeah. I...don't know. I mean, uh, yeah it's possible, it almost happened back in the, uh, second season I think, but I think that everyone here's gonna have to, yeah, face the facts that there's a strong possiblity that they could die in the next week. I'm not, uh, saying that it's gonna happen, but..."
He trailed off at the end of the sentence, not really sure how to finish it off. Brendan gave off the distinct impression of a guy who had no clue what to do in this situation, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. He was speaking like someone who was watching the game, commentating on it. It wasn't really what he wanted to speak like, and quite frankly it was getting weird having to tell himself to not speak like that.
And then came the suggestion of barricading up in this place. Shifting his shoes uncomfortably around on the floor, he scratched his head again.
"Um...Look, I don't like the idea of staying here. I think, since this is like a hospital, there's gonna be people who wanna use it, and I don't think most of them are gonna be very friendly. And there's a lot of people I need to speak to, because, let's just say I do, uh, die and stuff, I..." Brendan trailed off uncomfortably again. He was getting all sentimental, wasn't he? But there was so many things he didn't get to say to anyone before the trip.
Before he could start his rambling again, he was interupted by a loud schreeching sound that echoed throughout the hospital. Looking up in the ceiling corner, he found one of the large gaudy speakers haphazardly attatched to the wall.
And for once, there was sound. And for the first time, Brendan heard the man's voice. The man who was responsible for so much death over the last few years, and who was responsible for the people he had grown to know just that little bit more over the past year, was now...gloating at them. Because...19 of his classmates were already dead.
This was...no, it couldn't be, he had to be lying or something. There was no way that people had started killing that quickly, they couldn't possibly...but, Brendan remembered with a twinge of uncertainty, would they all be like Clio? Cold-blooded murderers?
Next came the list of the dead. All 19 of them resonated in his mind, whether he knew them or not. Remi Pierce...he had no idea. Dallas Reynolds, neither. Warren Brown...he could have sworn he heard his name in assosciation with a band or something - Blank Nation, was it? - killed by Omar Burton. He could of recognized the name, but it seemed irrelevant at the moment. Eric - it was in the split second before the completion of his last name that Brendan took a sharp intake of breathe.
No,nononononononononononono-
Lorenz.
He was...partially relieved.
Reika Ishida- ...oh no, that was, that was Sarah's girlfriend right? Or was it Reiko? Reika was the one who was...Chris Davidson, he'd been there for that, Clio had killed him right in front of him, and would have killed that other kid if he wasn't there. Sally Connolly, the ice-skater, and Cyrille LaBlanche...both actually by Sarah's girlfriend. He couldn't bear to think of what was happening to her at the moment when she found this out. Him abandoning her at the beach couldn't have been good for her. Daniel Vaughan he had no idea, neither this Nick Reid. Petrushka Ivanova, again by Clio. Brendan gritted his teeth at this. He could have stopped her right there at the beach, and now, someone else was dead. It was all his fault, wasn't it?
He didn't know who Megan Nelson, Everett Taylor and Keith Christoph were, but the last name seemed familiar. Paige Strand? He knew that name, it was on the tip of his tounge, but he couldn't place it, neither could he the rest of them until he heard Amber Whimsy. And then he remembered. Amber had bugged him a few times after he arrived at Bayview for an interview, along with Paige, and each time he declined. He didn't see any reason to want to say anything to this nosy girl, and he didn't really care about any school paper anyway. But...she was dead? No...
Brendan could do nothing short of stand and breathe a few moments after the announcements. He was responsible for that Petrushka dying. If he had just managed to stop Clio...
Unable to take it anymore, he saw a chair behind him and sat down, head in hands. Everything Danya said stuck in his mind indefinitely. 19 people, just like him, were dead.
"No..."
The only slim relief that he had was no one he was looking for was gone. The Activist Club, everyone he left at the beach, Chase, Dawne, and Erik, they were all safe. But he had to find them.
He supposed he was lucky that he didn't have to run anymore, the Infirmary not declared as a danger zone, as frankly he wouldn't have had the energy to in the first place.
And then, there were more people coming in out of what seemed like nowhere. There was that rich guy from GODSpeed, Bobby Barron, Raymond had finally caught up to him, and then...a girl with white hair.
Brendan tilted his head at the girl. White hair, that wasn't supposed to be possible. Who wanted their hair white? It seemed like a really strange accesory choice to him, but then again he wasn't the one doing anything remotely helpful, like trying to heal her wounds, now was he?
She wanted all the guys out of the room, apparently. He was fine with that. He was just being an idiot standing there, so he wordlessly followed Neill, Raymond, and Bobby out.
Ray spoke up first, inquiring as to what happened. Brendan wasn't really quite sure how to answer to something like that without sounding...needlessly cruel, so, regretably, he kept his mouth shut.
Bobby, the blonde guy, spoke up next. He asked about rescue. Brendan didn't really know how to respond to that, since according to his sources, no one had ever made it out of the game alive. The guy who won the first game, he remember as Adam Dodd, was simply pushed back into it the previous 'season'. The guy who won the second game had, to Brendan's knowledge, disappeared off the face of the earth.
"Umm...rescue, yeah. I...don't know. I mean, uh, yeah it's possible, it almost happened back in the, uh, second season I think, but I think that everyone here's gonna have to, yeah, face the facts that there's a strong possiblity that they could die in the next week. I'm not, uh, saying that it's gonna happen, but..."
He trailed off at the end of the sentence, not really sure how to finish it off. Brendan gave off the distinct impression of a guy who had no clue what to do in this situation, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. He was speaking like someone who was watching the game, commentating on it. It wasn't really what he wanted to speak like, and quite frankly it was getting weird having to tell himself to not speak like that.
And then came the suggestion of barricading up in this place. Shifting his shoes uncomfortably around on the floor, he scratched his head again.
"Um...Look, I don't like the idea of staying here. I think, since this is like a hospital, there's gonna be people who wanna use it, and I don't think most of them are gonna be very friendly. And there's a lot of people I need to speak to, because, let's just say I do, uh, die and stuff, I..." Brendan trailed off uncomfortably again. He was getting all sentimental, wasn't he? But there was so many things he didn't get to say to anyone before the trip.
Before he could start his rambling again, he was interupted by a loud schreeching sound that echoed throughout the hospital. Looking up in the ceiling corner, he found one of the large gaudy speakers haphazardly attatched to the wall.
And for once, there was sound. And for the first time, Brendan heard the man's voice. The man who was responsible for so much death over the last few years, and who was responsible for the people he had grown to know just that little bit more over the past year, was now...gloating at them. Because...19 of his classmates were already dead.
This was...no, it couldn't be, he had to be lying or something. There was no way that people had started killing that quickly, they couldn't possibly...but, Brendan remembered with a twinge of uncertainty, would they all be like Clio? Cold-blooded murderers?
Next came the list of the dead. All 19 of them resonated in his mind, whether he knew them or not. Remi Pierce...he had no idea. Dallas Reynolds, neither. Warren Brown...he could have sworn he heard his name in assosciation with a band or something - Blank Nation, was it? - killed by Omar Burton. He could of recognized the name, but it seemed irrelevant at the moment. Eric - it was in the split second before the completion of his last name that Brendan took a sharp intake of breathe.
No,nononononononononononono-
Lorenz.
He was...partially relieved.
Reika Ishida- ...oh no, that was, that was Sarah's girlfriend right? Or was it Reiko? Reika was the one who was...Chris Davidson, he'd been there for that, Clio had killed him right in front of him, and would have killed that other kid if he wasn't there. Sally Connolly, the ice-skater, and Cyrille LaBlanche...both actually by Sarah's girlfriend. He couldn't bear to think of what was happening to her at the moment when she found this out. Him abandoning her at the beach couldn't have been good for her. Daniel Vaughan he had no idea, neither this Nick Reid. Petrushka Ivanova, again by Clio. Brendan gritted his teeth at this. He could have stopped her right there at the beach, and now, someone else was dead. It was all his fault, wasn't it?
He didn't know who Megan Nelson, Everett Taylor and Keith Christoph were, but the last name seemed familiar. Paige Strand? He knew that name, it was on the tip of his tounge, but he couldn't place it, neither could he the rest of them until he heard Amber Whimsy. And then he remembered. Amber had bugged him a few times after he arrived at Bayview for an interview, along with Paige, and each time he declined. He didn't see any reason to want to say anything to this nosy girl, and he didn't really care about any school paper anyway. But...she was dead? No...
Brendan could do nothing short of stand and breathe a few moments after the announcements. He was responsible for that Petrushka dying. If he had just managed to stop Clio...
Unable to take it anymore, he saw a chair behind him and sat down, head in hands. Everything Danya said stuck in his mind indefinitely. 19 people, just like him, were dead.
"No..."
The only slim relief that he had was no one he was looking for was gone. The Activist Club, everyone he left at the beach, Chase, Dawne, and Erik, they were all safe. But he had to find them.
He supposed he was lucky that he didn't have to run anymore, the Infirmary not declared as a danger zone, as frankly he wouldn't have had the energy to in the first place.
-
selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Sarah shivered and nodded when Jaclyn pointed at her. Very slowly, she stood up and approached both the girls, but backed off a little when Charlotte started kicking.
Sarah frowned, "Your wounds are infected. Let's clean them and bandage them... we can fix it."
She looked around the room, maybe one of the boys outside could hold Charlotte down while they fixed her up, but she wouldn't do anything without Charlotte's permission.
"I won't do anything you won't want me to do, though." she mumbled, "..but if it hurts... we could... I mean, I could try finding numbing cream... or something... or maybe get one of the boys to hold you down...?"
Her tiny, timid voice was drowned out by the announcements, but Sarah partially ignored them. There were more important things to worry about. Wounds like that would turn into bad fevers if they weren't fixed quickly.
Sarah frowned, "Your wounds are infected. Let's clean them and bandage them... we can fix it."
She looked around the room, maybe one of the boys outside could hold Charlotte down while they fixed her up, but she wouldn't do anything without Charlotte's permission.
"I won't do anything you won't want me to do, though." she mumbled, "..but if it hurts... we could... I mean, I could try finding numbing cream... or something... or maybe get one of the boys to hold you down...?"
Her tiny, timid voice was drowned out by the announcements, but Sarah partially ignored them. There were more important things to worry about. Wounds like that would turn into bad fevers if they weren't fixed quickly.
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Charlotte just wouldn't stay still from the stinging alcohol and it was really beginning to drive away what little patience her white haired medic had left. Even with all the JROTC training and the patient being injured, Jaclyn was finding it very difficult to contain the now hysterically moving girl. As she pinned the left arm with her own two and clamped the right leg between hers, Jaclyn yelled out,
"Fricken stop flaili--"
She wouldn't get the chance to finish that sentence. A white blur could be seen reeling into the hospital floors from a two part kick chain to the gun, then followed up squarely into the jaw. A resounding crash to the quiet room echoed almost deafeningly.
Her body laid there for a moment, trying to register what happened. She got kicked. Yup. She got kicked by an athlete. Yup. She now had the taste of blood in her mouth.
Jaclyn spat out some of it to the white floors.
Yup. That meant add one really ticked off girl into the group. She stormed to her feet and grabbed a hold of the spear that was laid down earlier. Fury now flowed through her eyes and rational thoughts no longer had any place in this hospital ward. Jaclyn was a firm believer of karma and retribution, and boy did she want a bit of that right now!
"You FUCKING DYKE!! This is the thanks I get for FUCKING HELPING your PUSSY ass?! Well FUCK YOU!" Jaclyn screeched out in rage, keeping the pole arm's razor tip poised for assault at Charlotte.
"Fricken stop flaili--"
She wouldn't get the chance to finish that sentence. A white blur could be seen reeling into the hospital floors from a two part kick chain to the gun, then followed up squarely into the jaw. A resounding crash to the quiet room echoed almost deafeningly.
Her body laid there for a moment, trying to register what happened. She got kicked. Yup. She got kicked by an athlete. Yup. She now had the taste of blood in her mouth.
Jaclyn spat out some of it to the white floors.
Yup. That meant add one really ticked off girl into the group. She stormed to her feet and grabbed a hold of the spear that was laid down earlier. Fury now flowed through her eyes and rational thoughts no longer had any place in this hospital ward. Jaclyn was a firm believer of karma and retribution, and boy did she want a bit of that right now!
"You FUCKING DYKE!! This is the thanks I get for FUCKING HELPING your PUSSY ass?! Well FUCK YOU!" Jaclyn screeched out in rage, keeping the pole arm's razor tip poised for assault at Charlotte.
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"Charlotte. You little dyke, you really shouldn't mess with me."
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face."
"You FUCKING DYKE!! This is the thanks I get for FUCKING HELPING your PUSSY ass?! Well FUCK YOU!"
"DYKE"
"DYKE"
Charlotte was beginning to tire of that word. In fact, she was downright sick of it. Back home, she was used to it. Completely able to take it in stride. But this wasn't home. This place was something else entirely. This island... it changed people.
And then the whole world was red.
"Get lost! We don't want to get your cooties!" "Yeah, go play with your dollies or something."
It was hardly biting commentary to any thinking adult, but in their own four-year-old minds, Ben Redmond and Josh Jorgensen were premier geniuses of insult comedy. Indeed, they were artists, true masters of their time-honored craft. And to be fair, considering their target audience, they were just as effective as they needed to be, because it got a reaction out of the little pigtailed redhead. "Dolls are stupid!" Charlotte declared, much as she looked like one herself at that age. "It's not fair, why can't I play with you guys? Stickball is way more fun!"
"Because you're a girl. You do girl things." The voice, coming from behind Charlotte, belonged to Logan Monaghan, an absolute monster of a five-year-old, both in appearance and behavior. He was the picture of the archetypal playground bully; beating up other kids for their lunch money, because he felt they slighted him somehow, or just because he felt like it. His size made him look nearly twice as old as he really was. By the present day, he'd long since dropped out of school, and word had it he was in prison for attempted murder after stabbing either his girlfriend or a hooker, depending on who told the story. Some people were just born without an ounce of good in them, and Logan was one of those people. Ben and Josh just backed down and watched. They were just Logan's toadies, they knew their place in their little preschool hierarchy.
Charlotte didn't get that memo.
"So what?" she inquired, taking this as more of a challenge than anything. "Maybe I don't wanna do girl things. You got a problem with that?" Logan just smirked, swinging the plastic tee-ball bat around threateningly, like he saw mobsters do on TV. It was like a pit bull staring down a growling Jack Russell terrier. "Suit yourself," he replied, before taking the first swing.
Charlotte, somehow, was able to duck under the bat, before slamming headfirst into the larger boy's gut. The tackle knocked Logan off balance, and he went down hard on his back. Charlotte then straddled his chest, and proceeded to pound away at the boy's face, raining down punch
after punch
after punch
after punch
after punch until the bell was sounded and the referee separated the two. It was only the second round, but Michele had already been knocked down three times, and was sporting a severely swollen left eye underneath the facial padding. The ref had no choice but to end the fight in a technical knockout, giving Charlotte the win in her first ever sanctioned fight. She stood at the ropes, closed her eyes, counted to ten, and took deep breaths. The adrenaline faded. She was calm again. Looking back, she saw Michele collapsed on the mat. Couldn't blame her, really. She'd taken a hell of a beating, she could use the rest. Being a good sport, Charlotte approached, tossing her glove aside and extending a hand to help her former opponent up.
"Hey, no hard feelings, right? You did good out there."
No response.
"Chele, c'mon," she said, laughing nervously, "don't leave me hangin' here."
Blood dripped from her broken hand onto Jaclyn Krusche's limp form, as it lay there in a pile of scattered needles and shattered glass, her once white hair stained red, her face pummeled to the approximate consistency of ground beef.
"...Chele?"
It wasn't Michele.
"No..."
She didn't even know what had happened. Her body had charged at full speed into Jaclyn like a red-headed freight train, knocking the other girl backwards into the remains of the broken cabinet, shredding her back on the glass and splinters, leaving her on the ground, screaming in pain before a flurry of blows began to rain down on her face. Bit by bit, blow by blow, the bones of Jaclyn's face cracked and splintered under the weight of punch after punch, like a meat tenderizer hammering at a live cow. Her orbital sockets gave way, her eyes were crushed beneath their lids, her jaw cracked and dislocated, her teeth dislodged and sank down her throat, her nose was pounded down into her frontal lobe, her entire face was beaten concave, and blood covered the floor around her. And all the while, Charlotte smiled a mad, twisted, broken smile, as her mind was somewhere else entirely. The girl was dead some time before Charlotte finally stopped and came to her senses, straddled over the corpse of what had been her classmate, blood and tears dripping down her face.
"What have I..."
"Poor little Charlotte. It's too bad you're a dyke. I bet you'd be really popular with the boys now that you've got that extra hole in your face."
"You FUCKING DYKE!! This is the thanks I get for FUCKING HELPING your PUSSY ass?! Well FUCK YOU!"
"DYKE"
"DYKE"
Charlotte was beginning to tire of that word. In fact, she was downright sick of it. Back home, she was used to it. Completely able to take it in stride. But this wasn't home. This place was something else entirely. This island... it changed people.
And then the whole world was red.
"Get lost! We don't want to get your cooties!" "Yeah, go play with your dollies or something."
It was hardly biting commentary to any thinking adult, but in their own four-year-old minds, Ben Redmond and Josh Jorgensen were premier geniuses of insult comedy. Indeed, they were artists, true masters of their time-honored craft. And to be fair, considering their target audience, they were just as effective as they needed to be, because it got a reaction out of the little pigtailed redhead. "Dolls are stupid!" Charlotte declared, much as she looked like one herself at that age. "It's not fair, why can't I play with you guys? Stickball is way more fun!"
"Because you're a girl. You do girl things." The voice, coming from behind Charlotte, belonged to Logan Monaghan, an absolute monster of a five-year-old, both in appearance and behavior. He was the picture of the archetypal playground bully; beating up other kids for their lunch money, because he felt they slighted him somehow, or just because he felt like it. His size made him look nearly twice as old as he really was. By the present day, he'd long since dropped out of school, and word had it he was in prison for attempted murder after stabbing either his girlfriend or a hooker, depending on who told the story. Some people were just born without an ounce of good in them, and Logan was one of those people. Ben and Josh just backed down and watched. They were just Logan's toadies, they knew their place in their little preschool hierarchy.
Charlotte didn't get that memo.
"So what?" she inquired, taking this as more of a challenge than anything. "Maybe I don't wanna do girl things. You got a problem with that?" Logan just smirked, swinging the plastic tee-ball bat around threateningly, like he saw mobsters do on TV. It was like a pit bull staring down a growling Jack Russell terrier. "Suit yourself," he replied, before taking the first swing.
Charlotte, somehow, was able to duck under the bat, before slamming headfirst into the larger boy's gut. The tackle knocked Logan off balance, and he went down hard on his back. Charlotte then straddled his chest, and proceeded to pound away at the boy's face, raining down punch
after punch
after punch
after punch
after punch until the bell was sounded and the referee separated the two. It was only the second round, but Michele had already been knocked down three times, and was sporting a severely swollen left eye underneath the facial padding. The ref had no choice but to end the fight in a technical knockout, giving Charlotte the win in her first ever sanctioned fight. She stood at the ropes, closed her eyes, counted to ten, and took deep breaths. The adrenaline faded. She was calm again. Looking back, she saw Michele collapsed on the mat. Couldn't blame her, really. She'd taken a hell of a beating, she could use the rest. Being a good sport, Charlotte approached, tossing her glove aside and extending a hand to help her former opponent up.
"Hey, no hard feelings, right? You did good out there."
No response.
"Chele, c'mon," she said, laughing nervously, "don't leave me hangin' here."
Blood dripped from her broken hand onto Jaclyn Krusche's limp form, as it lay there in a pile of scattered needles and shattered glass, her once white hair stained red, her face pummeled to the approximate consistency of ground beef.
"...Chele?"
It wasn't Michele.
"No..."
She didn't even know what had happened. Her body had charged at full speed into Jaclyn like a red-headed freight train, knocking the other girl backwards into the remains of the broken cabinet, shredding her back on the glass and splinters, leaving her on the ground, screaming in pain before a flurry of blows began to rain down on her face. Bit by bit, blow by blow, the bones of Jaclyn's face cracked and splintered under the weight of punch after punch, like a meat tenderizer hammering at a live cow. Her orbital sockets gave way, her eyes were crushed beneath their lids, her jaw cracked and dislocated, her teeth dislodged and sank down her throat, her nose was pounded down into her frontal lobe, her entire face was beaten concave, and blood covered the floor around her. And all the while, Charlotte smiled a mad, twisted, broken smile, as her mind was somewhere else entirely. The girl was dead some time before Charlotte finally stopped and came to her senses, straddled over the corpse of what had been her classmate, blood and tears dripping down her face.
"What have I..."
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Shit!
Her movement was caught a second too late. Only a moment ago was the flailing body of Charlotte still laying on the cold tiles. Jaclyn had kept her eyes focused for all but one time taken to blink. It was that opening she immediately regretted.
As soon as eyelids blinded her vision for that brief interval, the berserked girl had risen and already woven right around her fastened stance. Her vision returning just in time to catch a glimpse of Charlotte's fist right before impact. The whole scene moved so slowly that it began hurting more than what came after. She could see the grooves of her trained knuckles, the grim from outdoor travels, and even the dank scent of perspiration as nothing but black shadows began hailing down.
Sensations grew numbed with every blow. She couldn't even open her jaw to scream out in agony for at that point it had already been bashed straight out of the joint. One half of her peripheral went black, which translated as he probably got an eye crushed. Her remaining vision was blurring fast and what little steam the train of thoughts had was just about pooted out. This was the end of the line.
No more resistance, no more heated cussing would ever come from the white haired vixen. Her skin quickly grew paler ever since the initial spray of mean and sinew showered the walls of the hospital. Broken glass now dimly cast light upon the scene. Jaclyn's life was now freshly pounded out for all of the YouTubers to gloriously gag over, and for Danya to snicker about over a cup of tea.
The spear's reflection was clearly visible through what remained in the glass debris, held tightly with two middle fingers limply dangling towards her assailant. A shine came from its waxy coating, for it would never be bathed in the blood of its wielder.
G99 Jaclyn Krusche- DEAD
Her movement was caught a second too late. Only a moment ago was the flailing body of Charlotte still laying on the cold tiles. Jaclyn had kept her eyes focused for all but one time taken to blink. It was that opening she immediately regretted.
As soon as eyelids blinded her vision for that brief interval, the berserked girl had risen and already woven right around her fastened stance. Her vision returning just in time to catch a glimpse of Charlotte's fist right before impact. The whole scene moved so slowly that it began hurting more than what came after. She could see the grooves of her trained knuckles, the grim from outdoor travels, and even the dank scent of perspiration as nothing but black shadows began hailing down.
Sensations grew numbed with every blow. She couldn't even open her jaw to scream out in agony for at that point it had already been bashed straight out of the joint. One half of her peripheral went black, which translated as he probably got an eye crushed. Her remaining vision was blurring fast and what little steam the train of thoughts had was just about pooted out. This was the end of the line.
No more resistance, no more heated cussing would ever come from the white haired vixen. Her skin quickly grew paler ever since the initial spray of mean and sinew showered the walls of the hospital. Broken glass now dimly cast light upon the scene. Jaclyn's life was now freshly pounded out for all of the YouTubers to gloriously gag over, and for Danya to snicker about over a cup of tea.
The spear's reflection was clearly visible through what remained in the glass debris, held tightly with two middle fingers limply dangling towards her assailant. A shine came from its waxy coating, for it would never be bathed in the blood of its wielder.
G99 Jaclyn Krusche- DEAD
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All eyes were on her. They would have to be, after that display. She could hear Sarah's screams even now, as the poor girl had tried in vain to separate the two.
Not just Sarah. Not just Bobby and the others. The whole world was watching. Her family, friends, everyone she had ever known would know what she had done. The Krusche family would know what she had done. Her church and the God she prayed to every night would know what she had done. She could never face any of them again. Not now. She had murdered Jaclyn Krusche. She had taken a life in cold blood. The tears that flowed down her face as she stared at her work would not change that.
None of them would ever forgive this.
She would never forgive herself.
She would never get the chance.
She started to stand, but something wasn't right. She couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move. She couldn't feel anything below her waist, in fact. She glanced around, trying to figure out what else had happened while she was out of it. Jaclyn's hands were still gripped tightly around something, something long. Something cylindrical. Something that had entered Charlotte's abdomen and exited her back-
...Oh.
The spear. In her rage, she hadn't even noticed Jaclyn holding the thing, let alone running her through. Blood seeped from the wound at a steady pace. How long had it been there? As long as she'd been pounding away? Did it matter? Probably not. Charlotte raised her hand to her mouth and let out a long, hacking cough. Blood there, too. This was really it. She was going to die, right here, like this, and as a murderer at that. For whatever reason, she smiled at the thought. At least this way, she wouldn't have to return home a killer. Her family didn't need that burden. "Mom... Dad..." She knew without looking up that the camera had its eye on her. "I'm sorry... that I couldn't be a better daughter. Promise me... promise me you'll forget... that you'll move on... It's better that way..."
Another cough.
"Sarah... it's okay... this is just what I get."
As blood dripped down her chin, her eyelids closing one last time, she held onto that faint smile, and through it, she breathed her last.
G104 CHARLOTTE CAVE - DECEASED
((OOC: All GMing and post-order fuckery in for the preceding four posts was pre-approved.))
Not just Sarah. Not just Bobby and the others. The whole world was watching. Her family, friends, everyone she had ever known would know what she had done. The Krusche family would know what she had done. Her church and the God she prayed to every night would know what she had done. She could never face any of them again. Not now. She had murdered Jaclyn Krusche. She had taken a life in cold blood. The tears that flowed down her face as she stared at her work would not change that.
None of them would ever forgive this.
She would never forgive herself.
She would never get the chance.
She started to stand, but something wasn't right. She couldn't. Her legs wouldn't move. She couldn't feel anything below her waist, in fact. She glanced around, trying to figure out what else had happened while she was out of it. Jaclyn's hands were still gripped tightly around something, something long. Something cylindrical. Something that had entered Charlotte's abdomen and exited her back-
...Oh.
The spear. In her rage, she hadn't even noticed Jaclyn holding the thing, let alone running her through. Blood seeped from the wound at a steady pace. How long had it been there? As long as she'd been pounding away? Did it matter? Probably not. Charlotte raised her hand to her mouth and let out a long, hacking cough. Blood there, too. This was really it. She was going to die, right here, like this, and as a murderer at that. For whatever reason, she smiled at the thought. At least this way, she wouldn't have to return home a killer. Her family didn't need that burden. "Mom... Dad..." She knew without looking up that the camera had its eye on her. "I'm sorry... that I couldn't be a better daughter. Promise me... promise me you'll forget... that you'll move on... It's better that way..."
Another cough.
"Sarah... it's okay... this is just what I get."
As blood dripped down her chin, her eyelids closing one last time, she held onto that faint smile, and through it, she breathed her last.
G104 CHARLOTTE CAVE - DECEASED
((OOC: All GMing and post-order fuckery in for the preceding four posts was pre-approved.))
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
Sarah wasn't ready for the fighting. She hadn't expected it. In the blink of an eye, Charlotte had launched herself at Jaclyn and started pummeling.
The small Asian girl stood stock still for a moment or two, unsure of what to do. Then, she ran at the pair, trying to separate them, desperate to stop the fighting.
"Charlotte! Stop!" she said to Charlotte, "We're just trying to help you!"
She hadn't been prepared for the escalating violence. She watched as Charlotte pounded fist after fist into Jaclyn's face. When the blood started to flow, Sarah rushed forward, putting her hands on Charlotte's shoulders and trying to pull her back from the fight.
"No... no!" she cried out as she struggled vainly to pull Charlotte from Jaclyn, to seperate the two.
She made no progress in stopping the other girl. Sarah pulled with all her might, but she didn't have much weight, her feet skidded on the floor as she tried stepping back.
"Charlotte! Charlotte! STOP! Please! PLEASE STOP!" she screamed, "STOP STOP STOP! PLEASE SHE'S HURT! PLEASE!"
Charlotte's flailing arms pushed Sarah back from where she was, but she ran forward again, trying to move between the girls and perhaps pull them apart that way. The tiny Asian girl let go of the bigger athelete's shoulders, still begging her to stop. She felt wetness on her cheeks. She didn't even know she was crying.
"Please don't... please stop... please please Charlotte." Sarah whimpered, "Please.... please... I can't fix this please don't... please..."
Charlotte continued to pummel Jaclyn's body long after the other girl had stopped moving. Eventually, the pummels slowed and stopped altogether. Sarah blinked, expecting Jaclyn to stand up and shrug the pummeling off.
She didn't.
Instead, she lay there motionless. Sarah whimpered, realising that Jaclyn was dead. She noticed the spear. Her eyes travelled up from the spear held in Jaclyn's hands to where it pierced Charlotte through.
The athlete looked pained. She said something and then her head drooped down to her chest. Sarah started at Charlotte, then sniffled and rubbed her eyes.
"I... I tried to stop it. I tried... I tried and it didn't work..." she sobbed.
The small Asian girl stood stock still for a moment or two, unsure of what to do. Then, she ran at the pair, trying to separate them, desperate to stop the fighting.
"Charlotte! Stop!" she said to Charlotte, "We're just trying to help you!"
She hadn't been prepared for the escalating violence. She watched as Charlotte pounded fist after fist into Jaclyn's face. When the blood started to flow, Sarah rushed forward, putting her hands on Charlotte's shoulders and trying to pull her back from the fight.
"No... no!" she cried out as she struggled vainly to pull Charlotte from Jaclyn, to seperate the two.
She made no progress in stopping the other girl. Sarah pulled with all her might, but she didn't have much weight, her feet skidded on the floor as she tried stepping back.
"Charlotte! Charlotte! STOP! Please! PLEASE STOP!" she screamed, "STOP STOP STOP! PLEASE SHE'S HURT! PLEASE!"
Charlotte's flailing arms pushed Sarah back from where she was, but she ran forward again, trying to move between the girls and perhaps pull them apart that way. The tiny Asian girl let go of the bigger athelete's shoulders, still begging her to stop. She felt wetness on her cheeks. She didn't even know she was crying.
"Please don't... please stop... please please Charlotte." Sarah whimpered, "Please.... please... I can't fix this please don't... please..."
Charlotte continued to pummel Jaclyn's body long after the other girl had stopped moving. Eventually, the pummels slowed and stopped altogether. Sarah blinked, expecting Jaclyn to stand up and shrug the pummeling off.
She didn't.
Instead, she lay there motionless. Sarah whimpered, realising that Jaclyn was dead. She noticed the spear. Her eyes travelled up from the spear held in Jaclyn's hands to where it pierced Charlotte through.
The athlete looked pained. She said something and then her head drooped down to her chest. Sarah started at Charlotte, then sniffled and rubbed her eyes.
"I... I tried to stop it. I tried... I tried and it didn't work..." she sobbed.
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Ray was quiet as Robert asked the guys what they were doing, and Neill suggested that the group barricade the infirmary, a plan that Ray wasn't entirely against, but also didn't believe would do them much good. It probably would've been a matter of time before one of them figured they could up their chances by eliminating the people in the group
like you you got a fucking sister and a mom to get back to
and leaving before anyone knew what was going on. Brendan had a more fatalistic idea of what they should be doing, including finding what he assumed were friends and talking to them. Ray could get behind that a little more. It was a better plan than sitting in the infirmary waiting for somebody with a piece to come smoke them all. Ray was about to say he'd help Brendan when the speaker crackled to life and Danya, that motherfucker from the auditorium, started talking, making Ray's upper lip curl in an unconscious gesture of revulsion
None of the names were entirely familiar to him,(Clio Gabriella was the chick Brendan mentioned, and Ray made a note that she was not to be fucked with) but the fact that students, high school students just like himself, were already killing each other, was all he needed to know. They were all ten shades of fucked. Every last one
doesn't have to be you you could put motherfuckers in the ground if you wanted Alicia needs you
of them.
After the announcement, Ray almost wanted to sit like Brendan. 19. 19 students dead. And who knows how many were dead by the announcement?
He didn't have time to say anything, as screams from the other room drew Ray's attention. At first all he caught were impassioned shouts of "DYKE", from what he presumed was the white-haired girl with the spear, before hearing terrified shouts from the small Asian girl that had broken the glass. Ray gave a look to the other boys before spinning on his heels and heading back the way they came, Charlotte's modesty be damned.
It really didn't matter. Jaclyn, the white-haired girl, resembled a raw steak more than a human now. Charlotte, the redhead, was impaled to the hilt on the white-haired girl's spear.
"Ho.....Fuck." Ray said, inarticulate in his surprise. His hands came up as if to brush back his hair, but dropped to his sides. He came farther into the room, so confused, not believing the carnage, that he managed no other words but that. The little Asian girl was crying, and he could guess at the events.
Not knowing what else to do, he put his hand on the girl's shoulders, for his comfort as well as hers; he had to stop himself from dry-heaving, from crying right there with her. This was wrong. This was all fucking wrong.
like you you got a fucking sister and a mom to get back to
and leaving before anyone knew what was going on. Brendan had a more fatalistic idea of what they should be doing, including finding what he assumed were friends and talking to them. Ray could get behind that a little more. It was a better plan than sitting in the infirmary waiting for somebody with a piece to come smoke them all. Ray was about to say he'd help Brendan when the speaker crackled to life and Danya, that motherfucker from the auditorium, started talking, making Ray's upper lip curl in an unconscious gesture of revulsion
None of the names were entirely familiar to him,(Clio Gabriella was the chick Brendan mentioned, and Ray made a note that she was not to be fucked with) but the fact that students, high school students just like himself, were already killing each other, was all he needed to know. They were all ten shades of fucked. Every last one
doesn't have to be you you could put motherfuckers in the ground if you wanted Alicia needs you
of them.
After the announcement, Ray almost wanted to sit like Brendan. 19. 19 students dead. And who knows how many were dead by the announcement?
He didn't have time to say anything, as screams from the other room drew Ray's attention. At first all he caught were impassioned shouts of "DYKE", from what he presumed was the white-haired girl with the spear, before hearing terrified shouts from the small Asian girl that had broken the glass. Ray gave a look to the other boys before spinning on his heels and heading back the way they came, Charlotte's modesty be damned.
It really didn't matter. Jaclyn, the white-haired girl, resembled a raw steak more than a human now. Charlotte, the redhead, was impaled to the hilt on the white-haired girl's spear.
"Ho.....Fuck." Ray said, inarticulate in his surprise. His hands came up as if to brush back his hair, but dropped to his sides. He came farther into the room, so confused, not believing the carnage, that he managed no other words but that. The little Asian girl was crying, and he could guess at the events.
Not knowing what else to do, he put his hand on the girl's shoulders, for his comfort as well as hers; he had to stop himself from dry-heaving, from crying right there with her. This was wrong. This was all fucking wrong.
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Killer_Moth†
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 8:22 am
Now safely ensconced in the side room, Bobby sat down. How long had it been since he'd arrived on the island. He had been keeping going for some time now, and fatigue was beginning to sink in. He was only half listening as Neil suggested the barricade, and half nodded, his eyes slowly closing.
He was drifting off when the blare of the announcement startled him back into full wakefulness. Even as he was shaking his head, trying to regain full consciousness, the effect of what he was saying was sinking in. Already people were beginning to die. People like Petrushka, apparently slaughtered by Clio Gabriella. Bobby refused to believe that Clio was capable of killing people. She was in GODSpeed. He wondered if the madman was pumping other names of people killed and people killing into different areas, and how many people were really dead. Propaganda. Politics 101. If you think friends are killing each other, then you'll be more inclined to fight back to defend yourself, to kill others. A vicious cycle. He sincerely doubted that so many of the class would have started going 'Lord of the Flies' already.
It was only when he noticed Brendan tensing at the mention of the name Eric that he finally placed where he recognised him from. He had been Eriks date at Prom. He winced inwardly. Of all the people to end up with. Still, he only had himself to blame. If he'd been more open, then Erik might not have gone for another guy. "You worried about him too?" Bobby hoped the question was both open and innocuous enough that Brendan wouldn't think him as a threat, but recognise him as somebody who shared a friend. "If we need to move, to look, then that's fine. Just, after that message, I don't know how safe it is out there. We can hold out here, unless it's declared."
There was a sudden commotion from the room he had mentally marked as the surgery. Shouting, fighting. Something was clearly going wrong in there. He was hot on Ray's heels as they moved back to see what was happening. The sight in front of him was unbearable, and he turned away.
He had been so naive. Hoping that death would stay away just because he refused to believe in it. Now he was confronted with it face on. Not in some kind of arbitrary way, or some way that he could accept, like when his Grandmother had passed. Here were two girls who had been alive a few minutes ago. Charlotte had been a friend when he needed one on the island, Jaclyn a forceful presence who could take charge. Real, living people. Now, it was all thrown away. He didn't want to think what had led them here, or about what had just been lost. Even when he had been confronted with Phil, he hadn't felt the real threat of what he was undergoing. Of what the whole class was undergoing.
Bobby swallowed back the tears that he could feel rising. Not now. Now there were things to be taken care of, people to keep calm, to make sure that this didn't escalate. There would be time for tears later. His earlier tiredness forgotten, he stepped over to Sarah and put an arm round her. "It's OK. Come on, let's get you out of here."
He was drifting off when the blare of the announcement startled him back into full wakefulness. Even as he was shaking his head, trying to regain full consciousness, the effect of what he was saying was sinking in. Already people were beginning to die. People like Petrushka, apparently slaughtered by Clio Gabriella. Bobby refused to believe that Clio was capable of killing people. She was in GODSpeed. He wondered if the madman was pumping other names of people killed and people killing into different areas, and how many people were really dead. Propaganda. Politics 101. If you think friends are killing each other, then you'll be more inclined to fight back to defend yourself, to kill others. A vicious cycle. He sincerely doubted that so many of the class would have started going 'Lord of the Flies' already.
It was only when he noticed Brendan tensing at the mention of the name Eric that he finally placed where he recognised him from. He had been Eriks date at Prom. He winced inwardly. Of all the people to end up with. Still, he only had himself to blame. If he'd been more open, then Erik might not have gone for another guy. "You worried about him too?" Bobby hoped the question was both open and innocuous enough that Brendan wouldn't think him as a threat, but recognise him as somebody who shared a friend. "If we need to move, to look, then that's fine. Just, after that message, I don't know how safe it is out there. We can hold out here, unless it's declared."
There was a sudden commotion from the room he had mentally marked as the surgery. Shouting, fighting. Something was clearly going wrong in there. He was hot on Ray's heels as they moved back to see what was happening. The sight in front of him was unbearable, and he turned away.
He had been so naive. Hoping that death would stay away just because he refused to believe in it. Now he was confronted with it face on. Not in some kind of arbitrary way, or some way that he could accept, like when his Grandmother had passed. Here were two girls who had been alive a few minutes ago. Charlotte had been a friend when he needed one on the island, Jaclyn a forceful presence who could take charge. Real, living people. Now, it was all thrown away. He didn't want to think what had led them here, or about what had just been lost. Even when he had been confronted with Phil, he hadn't felt the real threat of what he was undergoing. Of what the whole class was undergoing.
Bobby swallowed back the tears that he could feel rising. Not now. Now there were things to be taken care of, people to keep calm, to make sure that this didn't escalate. There would be time for tears later. His earlier tiredness forgotten, he stepped over to Sarah and put an arm round her. "It's OK. Come on, let's get you out of here."
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xylophonefairy†
- Posts: 182
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 5:55 am
As chaos erupted in the room next to them, Neill had no idea what to do, how to react. Screaming, and what sounded vaguely like... pummeling. He followed the other guys into a mad dash into the room, everything about their previous small talk forgotten, the announcement forgotten (he'd tried to block out the names; if one of his friend's was dead then he didn't want to know). He burst into the other room right behind Ray and Bobby, and immediately felt sick.
It was carnage. He looked first at Sarah, who being the only girl left alive in the room was the most likely culprit. But she couldn't have, no way could she have done all that, she was tiny. And traumatised in the wrong kind of way, Neill didn't know how precisely it was the 'wrong kind of way' but she didn't look guilty. Ray went up to her and tried to comfort her, as did Bobby a couple of seconds later. Neill stood just to the side of the door, leaning against the wall, trying to stop his head from spinning. That was spear carrying girl, she'd had a good way of speaking and he'd liked her, she was bossy yes, but she didn't deserve to die for it.
In fact if Sarah wasn't guilty, then they must have somehow killed each other. Neill stared numbly at the bodies, trying to figure out the logistics of how that might have happened, but it was difficult to look straight at them. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real... He suddenly became acutely aware that half the world was probably watching them, watching their reactions to the dead bodies of their peers, watching Sarah deal with it especially. But the thought didn't bother him as much as it might have; he sunk down the wall until he was sitting on his heels and kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. Not real, not real, not real, not real... the mantra went over and over in his head several times before he looked up and towards Sarah, Bobby and Ray.
"Now what?" he said in a croaking voice.
It was carnage. He looked first at Sarah, who being the only girl left alive in the room was the most likely culprit. But she couldn't have, no way could she have done all that, she was tiny. And traumatised in the wrong kind of way, Neill didn't know how precisely it was the 'wrong kind of way' but she didn't look guilty. Ray went up to her and tried to comfort her, as did Bobby a couple of seconds later. Neill stood just to the side of the door, leaning against the wall, trying to stop his head from spinning. That was spear carrying girl, she'd had a good way of speaking and he'd liked her, she was bossy yes, but she didn't deserve to die for it.
In fact if Sarah wasn't guilty, then they must have somehow killed each other. Neill stared numbly at the bodies, trying to figure out the logistics of how that might have happened, but it was difficult to look straight at them. It's not real, it's not real, it's not real... He suddenly became acutely aware that half the world was probably watching them, watching their reactions to the dead bodies of their peers, watching Sarah deal with it especially. But the thought didn't bother him as much as it might have; he sunk down the wall until he was sitting on his heels and kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. Not real, not real, not real, not real... the mantra went over and over in his head several times before he looked up and towards Sarah, Bobby and Ray.
"Now what?" he said in a croaking voice.
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Apparently, his face wasn't that unreadable. Bobby caught Brendan's attention and mention something about worrying. So it was that obvious huh?
So apparently Bobby knew Erik, huh? Well, at least he had some common ground to spread himself with. And he actually made good on his suggestion, because there didn't seem to be any objections on Neill or Ray's behalf. Well, not that they actually had the chance to object, since any further conversation was cut off by a loud ruckus the next room over.
Brendan didn't want to move. No, he couldn't move. It was just him telling himself that no, nothing was happening, and that everything would be alright. No one was getting hurt next door, everyone was alright, everyone was GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.
Almost like a ghost, he followed everyone to the next room.
And Brendan saw what he prayed had never happened.
The two girls from before, the white haired one and the short-haired one with an eye missing, were in battle pose, or so it would seem to be if they still had souls left in their bodies. The one who was severely injured before, missing an eye and all, was run through with the spear like a shish kebab. Her entire body was limp, blood pooling beneath her...and beneath her was no better. Jaclyn's face was almost indescribable. He could see that one person, the little Sarah girl, was still alive, now being consoled by two of the other guys.
But Brendan, again, just stood there.
The next thing he did was barge through the nearest door, which happened to be a large linen closet, and hurled into the laundry basket that stood at the other end of the room. It came up like the main valve to his body had just burst, and continued on an on, as though he was expelling a sewer. His knees grew weak, and he had to hold the metal frame of the large basket to keep himself from collapsing and drenching himself in his own vomit.
What the hell was wrong with everyone? Why were they killing each other? What happened between them that could possibly end like this?
He didn't ponder what could have happened, but simply tried to stop himself from upping the rest of his stomach. It stopped, thankfully, and Brendan needed the entirity of his energy to stop himself collapsing on a heap to the floor. Instead, he simply stood there, facing the dusty darkness, and ignored the world in his own little space.
...
There are a lot of sheets in here, aren't there?
...sheets.
So...he was in a hospital, right? An infirmary to be exact? This wasn't a beach anymore. These bodies had a lot more people taking care of them.
Brendan knew he could do something, just a little gesture of faith towards the two people who couldn't make it. It was something. A fat lot more than he did back at the beach, no doubt, with that girl...
Taking a look around, he took a large white bedsheet off the topmost shelf in his reach. It was large. It would definitely do the trick. He took another one for the other one, and opened the door to his little refuge. Yes, they would stare at him, as he was probably the weakest willed one there. But as much as it knawed at the back of his mind, it didn't matter that much at the moment.
Brendan stood to the side, and waited for his turn.
So apparently Bobby knew Erik, huh? Well, at least he had some common ground to spread himself with. And he actually made good on his suggestion, because there didn't seem to be any objections on Neill or Ray's behalf. Well, not that they actually had the chance to object, since any further conversation was cut off by a loud ruckus the next room over.
Brendan didn't want to move. No, he couldn't move. It was just him telling himself that no, nothing was happening, and that everything would be alright. No one was getting hurt next door, everyone was alright, everyone was GOING TO BE ALRIGHT.
Almost like a ghost, he followed everyone to the next room.
And Brendan saw what he prayed had never happened.
The two girls from before, the white haired one and the short-haired one with an eye missing, were in battle pose, or so it would seem to be if they still had souls left in their bodies. The one who was severely injured before, missing an eye and all, was run through with the spear like a shish kebab. Her entire body was limp, blood pooling beneath her...and beneath her was no better. Jaclyn's face was almost indescribable. He could see that one person, the little Sarah girl, was still alive, now being consoled by two of the other guys.
But Brendan, again, just stood there.
The next thing he did was barge through the nearest door, which happened to be a large linen closet, and hurled into the laundry basket that stood at the other end of the room. It came up like the main valve to his body had just burst, and continued on an on, as though he was expelling a sewer. His knees grew weak, and he had to hold the metal frame of the large basket to keep himself from collapsing and drenching himself in his own vomit.
What the hell was wrong with everyone? Why were they killing each other? What happened between them that could possibly end like this?
He didn't ponder what could have happened, but simply tried to stop himself from upping the rest of his stomach. It stopped, thankfully, and Brendan needed the entirity of his energy to stop himself collapsing on a heap to the floor. Instead, he simply stood there, facing the dusty darkness, and ignored the world in his own little space.
...
There are a lot of sheets in here, aren't there?
...sheets.
So...he was in a hospital, right? An infirmary to be exact? This wasn't a beach anymore. These bodies had a lot more people taking care of them.
Brendan knew he could do something, just a little gesture of faith towards the two people who couldn't make it. It was something. A fat lot more than he did back at the beach, no doubt, with that girl...
Taking a look around, he took a large white bedsheet off the topmost shelf in his reach. It was large. It would definitely do the trick. He took another one for the other one, and opened the door to his little refuge. Yes, they would stare at him, as he was probably the weakest willed one there. But as much as it knawed at the back of his mind, it didn't matter that much at the moment.
Brendan stood to the side, and waited for his turn.
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selphie_trabia†
- Posts: 197
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:51 am
All was not well in Sarah's headspace. The tiny girl sat hunched over in the corner, close to the bodies. She felt someone putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned and hugged that person, not caring who it was. She sniffled into his shoulder, her eyes shut tight. Then, just as suddenly, she wrenched herself out of the person's grip and scrambled across the floor to the two bodies. To Charlotte and Jaclyn.
"No! No no no!" she whimpered.
Through tearful eyes, she looked at the two bodies, at Charlotte's half-opened eyes. She put her hand to Charlotte's mouth, trying to see if there was any breathing. There wasn't. Sarah pushed and pulled at Charlotte's body until she could squeeze past her to where Jaclyn was. In a brisk, businesslike manner, she examined Jaclyn's body, putting her fingers to the other girl's neck to check the pulse.
Despite her efforts to find a sign of life, breathing... or a pulse, she couldn't find any. The girls were gone. Sarah fell back onto her rump, staring with open mouthed horror. If only she knew something more... some more medicine. If she were faster, stronger... she could have stopped the fight. Charlotte didn't deserve this. She didn't even if she said she did. Sarah should have stopped the fight.
She stared at the two bodies for a while. There was something else she had to do, but right now, she couldn't remember what it was. Sarah wanted to go home. She wanted to be somewhere safe. She looked up at the faces around her.
"I wanna go home..." she sobbed.
"No! No no no!" she whimpered.
Through tearful eyes, she looked at the two bodies, at Charlotte's half-opened eyes. She put her hand to Charlotte's mouth, trying to see if there was any breathing. There wasn't. Sarah pushed and pulled at Charlotte's body until she could squeeze past her to where Jaclyn was. In a brisk, businesslike manner, she examined Jaclyn's body, putting her fingers to the other girl's neck to check the pulse.
Despite her efforts to find a sign of life, breathing... or a pulse, she couldn't find any. The girls were gone. Sarah fell back onto her rump, staring with open mouthed horror. If only she knew something more... some more medicine. If she were faster, stronger... she could have stopped the fight. Charlotte didn't deserve this. She didn't even if she said she did. Sarah should have stopped the fight.
She stared at the two bodies for a while. There was something else she had to do, but right now, she couldn't remember what it was. Sarah wanted to go home. She wanted to be somewhere safe. She looked up at the faces around her.
"I wanna go home..." she sobbed.
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Ray was almost taken aback by the hug, the contact shocking him out of the reverie he'd found himself in. It took him a bit to return the hug, wrapping the girl up in arms more used to clinches than embraces. It didn't last long as the girl went back to the two corpses on the ground in front of all of them. Ray wanted to kick himself, wished he had something insightful to say, but he was sure he was still too rattled to make words.
Ray watched as Bobby knelt down and grabbed hold of Sarah, and mentioned getting her out of there. Ray didn't know much about him (a pattern) except that he dressed nice and was probably loaded, but that one act with Sarah now made Ray respect him already. Anyone that could remain that calm and be compassionate was someone worth liking.
Brendan came back as Ray was about to head back over to Sarah and Bobby. He had in his hands a pair of sheets, and Ray had a vague idea what he wanted to do with them. Ray decided Brendan was alright, too. He walked over to him and nodded wordlessly, taking one of the sheets from the boy.
"We...we gonna move them?" He asked as he swung the sheet out to unfurl it.
Ray watched as Bobby knelt down and grabbed hold of Sarah, and mentioned getting her out of there. Ray didn't know much about him (a pattern) except that he dressed nice and was probably loaded, but that one act with Sarah now made Ray respect him already. Anyone that could remain that calm and be compassionate was someone worth liking.
Brendan came back as Ray was about to head back over to Sarah and Bobby. He had in his hands a pair of sheets, and Ray had a vague idea what he wanted to do with them. Ray decided Brendan was alright, too. He walked over to him and nodded wordlessly, taking one of the sheets from the boy.
"We...we gonna move them?" He asked as he swung the sheet out to unfurl it.
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Killer_Moth†
- Posts: 259
- Joined: Sat Sep 01, 2018 8:22 am
"It's OK Sarah. We'll get you home." Bobby felt rotten about saying something like that, knowing that he had no way to guarantee it, but sometimes these things had to be said. To give somebody else faith, to help them all get through it. Even as Sarah had fought Ray off, he had moved in and taken hold of her again, trying to guide her away from the carnage in the room.
He nodded to Brendan and Ray as they made to cover the bodies with the sheets they'd recovered. A small gesture like that was all that they could do under the circumstances. Bobby would have preferred to see them properly buried, but knew just how impractical it would be. "Get them laid out properly. I don't know what faith they were, but I'd like to say a prayer for their souls. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome."
He motioned for Neill to come closer to him while the others were occupied, and spoke to him quietly. "I figure we stay here tonight at least. We can sleep in another room, set up a watch system. Tomorrow, we can decide where we go from here." He turned again to Sarah, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. "Nobody is blaming you for this. There's nothing you could have done. Now come on, get some rest. There's no need for you to see this."
He nodded to Brendan and Ray as they made to cover the bodies with the sheets they'd recovered. A small gesture like that was all that they could do under the circumstances. Bobby would have preferred to see them properly buried, but knew just how impractical it would be. "Get them laid out properly. I don't know what faith they were, but I'd like to say a prayer for their souls. Anyone who wants to join me is welcome."
He motioned for Neill to come closer to him while the others were occupied, and spoke to him quietly. "I figure we stay here tonight at least. We can sleep in another room, set up a watch system. Tomorrow, we can decide where we go from here." He turned again to Sarah, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. "Nobody is blaming you for this. There's nothing you could have done. Now come on, get some rest. There's no need for you to see this."
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