"Uhhhhh."
Well.
Amber was a known weirdo so it wasn't strange she would bring something like that into the conversation as she was dying. But Paloma decided to run with it. There was a limb to grab so she grabbed the entire body, she just hoped she wouldn't be dragged to hell alongside with her.
"Sure." Paloma whispered. "We're friends. I told you. We got in a fight but now we made up, so we're even better friends."
Paloma opened her arms then turned her head back to Erika. What a cowardly piece of shit who couldn't end what she started. Paloma knew better than to do this, but she still did it anyways. It just felt like the right thing to do.
Which made Paloma cringed. Doing the right things didn't get her anywhere. It only made her go down a path that had blood and guts and savagery, but it was the path she took so she would stick to it. Maybe she just needed to even out her karma before going on to the next step of this because Erika's shotgun was a looming reminder that her head was about to blown up.
Paloma leaned forward and cupped Amber's back with her hands. She felt sticky. Paloma wished she could take a shower or five after this.
"We're hugging." She whispered calmly into Amber's ear. "That's what friends do, right?"
Don't Stop Dancing
Day 7 Morning (After Announcements), Private Now
friend
Friends didn’t just throw each other away. Didn’t shoot each other in the head. No, if a friend needed to die it was supposed to be quick. That was the point, that was the trope. If they had to die, they reached out to someone they trusted to make it quick. To make the inescapable somehow bearable.
inescapable.
it’s all in my head.
that’s why it’s always here.
i’m always here.
where am I?
in my head, obviously.
Having enough knowledge and awareness to be frightened of what happens when she’s not there anymore. It was right here. Right in front of her. Asking if these people who broke her heart and killed her were friends.
Lying was the right thing to do. It usually wasn’t. But lying made it easier.
easier for who?
The two of them. The pieces that were left.
where is her friend, Erika?
She was trying to be honest. Trying to face it. Now she couldn’t face it, because she failed her. Failed to kill her. Failed by killing her.
Killed ten people and she couldn’t just follow through for a friend.
Couldn’t spare a friend.
can’t find her friend.
Right here. Nowhere else. On display, pieces of dreams and hopes and knowing where your friends were. Dissolving in slow motion.
What’s worse - screams in your head, or listening to all the voices fade?
Let me ask me something. If the way you chose to live led here,
what
Erika’s chest rose and fell, slow steady breaths. Her weapon was loaded, aimed, ready. At least she thought it was a weapon. It was a bunch of shapes, she knew it was a shotgun. It killed, whatever that meant to her. She’d have been prepared to kill, if she was still sure she was standing there.
Friends didn’t just throw each other away. Didn’t shoot each other in the head. No, if a friend needed to die it was supposed to be quick. That was the point, that was the trope. If they had to die, they reached out to someone they trusted to make it quick. To make the inescapable somehow bearable.
inescapable.
it’s all in my head.
that’s why it’s always here.
i’m always here.
where am I?
in my head, obviously.
Having enough knowledge and awareness to be frightened of what happens when she’s not there anymore. It was right here. Right in front of her. Asking if these people who broke her heart and killed her were friends.
Lying was the right thing to do. It usually wasn’t. But lying made it easier.
easier for who?
The two of them. The pieces that were left.
where is her friend, Erika?
She was trying to be honest. Trying to face it. Now she couldn’t face it, because she failed her. Failed to kill her. Failed by killing her.
Killed ten people and she couldn’t just follow through for a friend.
Couldn’t spare a friend.
can’t find her friend.
Right here. Nowhere else. On display, pieces of dreams and hopes and knowing where your friends were. Dissolving in slow motion.
What’s worse - screams in your head, or listening to all the voices fade?
Let me ask me something. If the way you chose to live led here,
what
is
the point?Erika’s chest rose and fell, slow steady breaths. Her weapon was loaded, aimed, ready. At least she thought it was a weapon. It was a bunch of shapes, she knew it was a shotgun. It killed, whatever that meant to her. She’d have been prepared to kill, if she was still sure she was standing there.
-
VoltTurtle
- Posts: 801
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
"...Yeah."
Amber moved her bloody hand, placing it on Paloma's back, while letting go of her jaw with the other hand.
Drip.
"But, something's wrong..."
She swallowed, her throat visibly moving. She stared at the ceiling blankly, quietly.
"I don't remember... but I think... my friend's different from you..."
Drip.
Her breathing grew more rapid, and shallow.
"I need to find her... always helps me, when I need it..."
Drip.
She let go of Paloma, pushing her bloodied hand against the wall as her left leg shifted and strained to push herself off the floor. All the while, her right leg remained still.
"Something's wrong... I need go..."
Amber moved her bloody hand, placing it on Paloma's back, while letting go of her jaw with the other hand.
Drip.
"But, something's wrong..."
She swallowed, her throat visibly moving. She stared at the ceiling blankly, quietly.
"I don't remember... but I think... my friend's different from you..."
Drip.
Her breathing grew more rapid, and shallow.
"I need to find her... always helps me, when I need it..."
Drip.
She let go of Paloma, pushing her bloodied hand against the wall as her left leg shifted and strained to push herself off the floor. All the while, her right leg remained still.
"Something's wrong... I need go..."
"Ai'ght, I tried," Paloma moved to away from Amber as she did the little lost puppy gig. Her head turned to Erika. "You're turn."
Paloma moved a second time, this time with the bag. It was hers, now. It felt good to have something like this back. There was food and water and bandages and a lot more to help her. If she played it safe now, she wouldn't need to find another one. Paloma would probably be able to sustain herself with whatever was left in it.
And plus, there was some clothes.
Paloma grabbed a shirt of Amber and put it up her face to soak up the blood. It was still pouring out like a frenzy and while she was getting lightheaded, she didn't really have the opportunity to show weakness in front of Erika. Amber's final moments were messy and Paloma had tried to make them better, but she was busy off in her tiny world without her brain.
Paloma reached the - her - baseball bat and then grabbed it with one hand. She was back at square one with her baseball bat, her new bag, and a sudden urge to whack Erika over the head. But she too was busy in her made up world or something. There was this glassy look over her eyes. It was the same one she had right before she wanted to shoot her but Amber came back to life.
Perhaps she should be thankful that Amber had saved her life but it would just be something else to hold against the girl, so she quietly mused over the thought to ignore whatever would next. Just lay low for another day, patch up her face, make sure it doesnt get dirtier.
It was a fair goal.
"You know, that's what I meant by short term," Paloma had to get one last taunt in, "can't even finish off this fucking dog."
Paloma moved a second time, this time with the bag. It was hers, now. It felt good to have something like this back. There was food and water and bandages and a lot more to help her. If she played it safe now, she wouldn't need to find another one. Paloma would probably be able to sustain herself with whatever was left in it.
And plus, there was some clothes.
Paloma grabbed a shirt of Amber and put it up her face to soak up the blood. It was still pouring out like a frenzy and while she was getting lightheaded, she didn't really have the opportunity to show weakness in front of Erika. Amber's final moments were messy and Paloma had tried to make them better, but she was busy off in her tiny world without her brain.
Paloma reached the - her - baseball bat and then grabbed it with one hand. She was back at square one with her baseball bat, her new bag, and a sudden urge to whack Erika over the head. But she too was busy in her made up world or something. There was this glassy look over her eyes. It was the same one she had right before she wanted to shoot her but Amber came back to life.
Perhaps she should be thankful that Amber had saved her life but it would just be something else to hold against the girl, so she quietly mused over the thought to ignore whatever would next. Just lay low for another day, patch up her face, make sure it doesnt get dirtier.
It was a fair goal.
"You know, that's what I meant by short term," Paloma had to get one last taunt in, "can't even finish off this fucking dog."
-
VoltTurtle
- Posts: 801
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Amber forced herself up with great effort, grabbing whatever she could in order to stand, using all of her strength. Finally standing, she leaned onto her left leg, her right leg still as limp as before.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Her tank top was soaked in her own blood. She was starting to look pale.
"I... gotta..."
She started moving towards the door out of the house as soon as Paloma moved out of the way, her single functioning eye transfixed on it. Her right leg was limply dragging behind as she moved, Amber nearly losing her balance with every pained step she took.
"I'm hurt... something's wrong... but I'll fix it... I'll get help..."
The slurring in her words was even worse than before, to the point it was hard to tell what she was saying. Slowly, painstakingly, she moved towards the door, acting as if she were unaware there were other people in the room.
Then-
Drip. Drip. Drip. Her tank top was soaked in her own blood. She was starting to look pale.
"I... gotta..."
She started moving towards the door out of the house as soon as Paloma moved out of the way, her single functioning eye transfixed on it. Her right leg was limply dragging behind as she moved, Amber nearly losing her balance with every pained step she took.
"I'm hurt... something's wrong... but I'll fix it... I'll get help..."
The slurring in her words was even worse than before, to the point it was hard to tell what she was saying. Slowly, painstakingly, she moved towards the door, acting as if she were unaware there were other people in the room.
Then-
Killed a piece at a time.
That was what she was looking at.
All of them, torn apart in one way or another. Wrecked inside, in ways people couldn’t put into words.
The bullet in Amber’s skull just made the damage more obvious.
Everything meaningful about Amber ran in a little stream from the hole in her head. Gone before her heart stopped.
Every choice Erika made was another piece of herself blown away. Trading structure for chaos. Tissue for hemorrhage. Change as a constant was only comforting if there was still something left to recognize.
The incomplete sum of their lives and memories. Their history.
Here it was, limping away. No idea where she was. No idea what happened to her. Looking for a friend who wasn’t ever going to find her.
There was stumbling proof that all thought and time and memory lived between their temples. All they’d lost and would lose manifest in someone so broken they could barely apprehend reality. Each plea and confused look a reminder that little parts of them would die well before the rest was gone.
Maybe it wasn’t so different than the others who died in front of her. It might not have mattered. She saw it now, at this moment, and understood why she was here.
Piece by piece,
we dissipate.
This is what the end looks like, isn’t it?
Staggering, feeling real life spill out of you. Not blood - memories. Awareness.
It’s so hopeless it’s almost beautiful. That’s what I keep seeing. That’s why I couldn’t understand. Somber, I think that’s the right word. Not frightening. It’s exactly what it has to be.
And it has to be. That’s why it’s not right, to stay caught in between.
It’s all so precious. Up to the last moments. They might be the most important.
Paloma’s right, about one thing. Amber can’t stay like this. I can’t stay like this.
My instincts were right. I was just too scared to really accept them. If I don't, then I'm nothing at all. Lying in between, waiting to die.
And Amber…
Erika blinked, suddenly aware of how dry her eyes felt. She hadn’t looked away as Amber got up and moved towards the door.
Her whole body seemed to reanimate, breaking out of a stillness that had begun with fear and now ended in serenity. With a speed that only came from memory and precision that rose out of absolute calm, she raised the shotgun and squeezed the trigger.
That was what she was looking at.
All of them, torn apart in one way or another. Wrecked inside, in ways people couldn’t put into words.
The bullet in Amber’s skull just made the damage more obvious.
Everything meaningful about Amber ran in a little stream from the hole in her head. Gone before her heart stopped.
Every choice Erika made was another piece of herself blown away. Trading structure for chaos. Tissue for hemorrhage. Change as a constant was only comforting if there was still something left to recognize.
The incomplete sum of their lives and memories. Their history.
Here it was, limping away. No idea where she was. No idea what happened to her. Looking for a friend who wasn’t ever going to find her.
There was stumbling proof that all thought and time and memory lived between their temples. All they’d lost and would lose manifest in someone so broken they could barely apprehend reality. Each plea and confused look a reminder that little parts of them would die well before the rest was gone.
Maybe it wasn’t so different than the others who died in front of her. It might not have mattered. She saw it now, at this moment, and understood why she was here.
Piece by piece,
we dissipate.
This is what the end looks like, isn’t it?
Staggering, feeling real life spill out of you. Not blood - memories. Awareness.
It’s so hopeless it’s almost beautiful. That’s what I keep seeing. That’s why I couldn’t understand. Somber, I think that’s the right word. Not frightening. It’s exactly what it has to be.
And it has to be. That’s why it’s not right, to stay caught in between.
It’s all so precious. Up to the last moments. They might be the most important.
Paloma’s right, about one thing. Amber can’t stay like this. I can’t stay like this.
My instincts were right. I was just too scared to really accept them. If I don't, then I'm nothing at all. Lying in between, waiting to die.
And Amber…
Erika blinked, suddenly aware of how dry her eyes felt. She hadn’t looked away as Amber got up and moved towards the door.
Her whole body seemed to reanimate, breaking out of a stillness that had begun with fear and now ended in serenity. With a speed that only came from memory and precision that rose out of absolute calm, she raised the shotgun and squeezed the trigger.
-
VoltTurtle
- Posts: 801
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Amber fell down.
She never got back up.
G049 - Amber Yates: Deceased
She never got back up.
G049 - Amber Yates: Deceased
She felt the ear-splitting report reverberate in her chest, and errant specks of blood spraying from what little was left of Amber’s head.
No longer numb, or laid low by the pain. She felt all of it, everything she needed to keep going. Accepted what was already happening. It was the only way to fight it. The only way to still feel alive, somewhere inside. To know she could only ever save a piece of herself, and to watch the rest die with some amount of resolve.
Erika turned to look at Paloma. The vacant look in her eyes was long gone. They lit up, a flash of lightning out of an abyss. Thunder would soon follow.
No longer numb, or laid low by the pain. She felt all of it, everything she needed to keep going. Accepted what was already happening. It was the only way to fight it. The only way to still feel alive, somewhere inside. To know she could only ever save a piece of herself, and to watch the rest die with some amount of resolve.
Erika turned to look at Paloma. The vacant look in her eyes was long gone. They lit up, a flash of lightning out of an abyss. Thunder would soon follow.
"Welp," Paloma raised her foot against the edge of the table, "color me surprise."
She would be lying if she wasn't scared, but that fear was drowned by her determination to get out of there alive. With Amber dead, that was one more person out of the way for her to survive. With every deaths, Paloma's vigor flared up into a new sense of bravery. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't going to spit on the energy she was receiving.
"Deuces!"
((Paloma deuced out.))
She would be lying if she wasn't scared, but that fear was drowned by her determination to get out of there alive. With Amber dead, that was one more person out of the way for her to survive. With every deaths, Paloma's vigor flared up into a new sense of bravery. She wasn't sure why, but she wasn't going to spit on the energy she was receiving.
"Deuces!"
((Paloma deuced out.))
Erika had only moments to react as Paloma flipped a table and bolted. The sudden movement caught her off guard, forced a moment’s hesitation as she looked to see where the other girl was heading.
The aftershock of Amber’s death still lingered, still threw her off just enough. After that moment’s hesitation, Erika fired after Paloma - far too late. The shotgun blasts tore through wood and wallpaper, punching holes in the wall and the front door. She doubted that she managed to clip Paloma on the way out. Erika began to go after her, fishing a few shells out of her pocket to load back into the shotgun as she did so. Halfway through the room, standing amidst the sulphury haze, she stopped.
All kinds of fucked up, and hated by anyone who remembers her. Unrepentant, and determined. Tenacious but not really able to fight anyone off. Easier to just let her go and let things happen naturally.
Deep breaths. Slow down. Think a few steps ahead. Erika felt something wet on her face; specks of Amber’s blood. She wiped it away with her sleeve.
Paloma’s taunts stuck with her, choosing this moment to kick around in her head again. Thinking about the kind of person she was made it easier to step back, to let the others on the island deal with her.
Erika tasted blood moments after her lips parted, unable to restrain a smirk at the thought.
The more other people are fighting with one another, the less they’re fighting with me. Somebody like her isn’t going to have any problem starting a fight she can’t win.
The smile didn’t last. What was on her face didn’t taste any different than her own blood, but she knew where it came from. The thought made her a bit queasy. Once again, she reached up and tried to wipe it away with her sleeve. It came away streaked with red, but wiping it away didn’t erase the taste.
She spat on the ground, as if that would make it any better. It didn't.
Feeling numb, or nothing at all - she wasn’t sure she’d ever get it. Everything felt empty, and kind of unreal, but it was still affecting her. She just wasn’t sure that she had much of a stake in what things felt like to her, anymore. Suddenly it seemed easier to see things from the outside looking in, as if she’d been something other than Erika Stieglitz and was only now starting to realize it.
I’m not here, in the way I used to be somewhere else. It’s different now.
The room, the gun, her clothes, Amber’s body - they seemed more like collections of shapes and colours than separate entities with names. She understood what they all meant, what it was supposed to be, but it was almost as if she was more attuned to the constituent pieces of everything now. Looking over the room, she couldn’t help but find the shape of the world unfamiliar. Too many hard edges, dull colours, shapes that blended into other shapes and letters that should’ve meant words together but didn’t anymore.
Down to her hands, and Erika wasn’t sure if her fingers were supposed to be there anymore. Why wouldn’t they be somewhere else? She didn’t know if her shotgun was a Browning Auto-5, or just a collection of parts that happened to be holding themselves together. Amber certainly didn’t look much like Amber anymore. But her corpse didn’t look like much of a corpse. Only human parts, that happened to be arranged in that spot, in that state, leaking out onto the floor and through wooden boards.
Erika looked inward.
Am I all that’s left?
She looked out at the world, searching for something she might recognize.
There wasn’t much. It was familiar, but distant.
Am I doing this?
Shaking off a chill, Erika readied her weapons and quickly made for the door.
The aftershock of Amber’s death still lingered, still threw her off just enough. After that moment’s hesitation, Erika fired after Paloma - far too late. The shotgun blasts tore through wood and wallpaper, punching holes in the wall and the front door. She doubted that she managed to clip Paloma on the way out. Erika began to go after her, fishing a few shells out of her pocket to load back into the shotgun as she did so. Halfway through the room, standing amidst the sulphury haze, she stopped.
All kinds of fucked up, and hated by anyone who remembers her. Unrepentant, and determined. Tenacious but not really able to fight anyone off. Easier to just let her go and let things happen naturally.
Deep breaths. Slow down. Think a few steps ahead. Erika felt something wet on her face; specks of Amber’s blood. She wiped it away with her sleeve.
Paloma’s taunts stuck with her, choosing this moment to kick around in her head again. Thinking about the kind of person she was made it easier to step back, to let the others on the island deal with her.
Erika tasted blood moments after her lips parted, unable to restrain a smirk at the thought.
The more other people are fighting with one another, the less they’re fighting with me. Somebody like her isn’t going to have any problem starting a fight she can’t win.
The smile didn’t last. What was on her face didn’t taste any different than her own blood, but she knew where it came from. The thought made her a bit queasy. Once again, she reached up and tried to wipe it away with her sleeve. It came away streaked with red, but wiping it away didn’t erase the taste.
She spat on the ground, as if that would make it any better. It didn't.
Feeling numb, or nothing at all - she wasn’t sure she’d ever get it. Everything felt empty, and kind of unreal, but it was still affecting her. She just wasn’t sure that she had much of a stake in what things felt like to her, anymore. Suddenly it seemed easier to see things from the outside looking in, as if she’d been something other than Erika Stieglitz and was only now starting to realize it.
I’m not here, in the way I used to be somewhere else. It’s different now.
The room, the gun, her clothes, Amber’s body - they seemed more like collections of shapes and colours than separate entities with names. She understood what they all meant, what it was supposed to be, but it was almost as if she was more attuned to the constituent pieces of everything now. Looking over the room, she couldn’t help but find the shape of the world unfamiliar. Too many hard edges, dull colours, shapes that blended into other shapes and letters that should’ve meant words together but didn’t anymore.
Down to her hands, and Erika wasn’t sure if her fingers were supposed to be there anymore. Why wouldn’t they be somewhere else? She didn’t know if her shotgun was a Browning Auto-5, or just a collection of parts that happened to be holding themselves together. Amber certainly didn’t look much like Amber anymore. But her corpse didn’t look like much of a corpse. Only human parts, that happened to be arranged in that spot, in that state, leaking out onto the floor and through wooden boards.
Erika looked inward.
Am I all that’s left?
She looked out at the world, searching for something she might recognize.
There wasn’t much. It was familiar, but distant.
Am I doing this?
Shaking off a chill, Erika readied her weapons and quickly made for the door.
((Erika Stieglitz continued elsewhere.))