((Matias Juarez continues from Matias & Me))
The glove gun went into Matias' backpack, the first of Leslie's belongings to change ownership. Next came the ammo. Then the instruction manual, just in case. Next after that came the remaining food. Seaweed chips, dried squid, fish. Seafood was okay, he guessed. The tuna sandwich he'd had earlier was good enough, he guessed. Didn't feel as good now. Whatever. Then there was bread, oyster crackers, water, Gatorade, Life Savers. Not enough rum to get drunk. And that was it in terms of food.
The sextant would stay, neither Matias nor Ashanti had any use for it as far as he knew, and they each had their own anyways. Same with the map, superfluous. Leslie had taught him that word, back in the library. It meant extra, unnecessary, had nothing to do with the flow of water like Matias had first thought. He thought that was a better fitting meaning for that word. Leslie had agreed back then. Whatever. Flashlight went. Condom stayed. First aid kit went.
He wouldn't get Leslie's clothes. They were in his size, they were too big for Matias, too baggy. They'd take up too much space anyways. And they were his, anyways. His things. They could stay on him. Would. Should.
He noticed, just now, that he didn't have his hat with him, the dark blue one. Leslie liked that hat. He'd been wearing it the day they were abducted. It should've been here with him, but it wasn't.
He wondered whether or not he should have gotten the bandanna. It was the one personal effect Leslie had on him, aside from his clothes.
It was just lying on the ground. Easy enough to get, physically. It was hard to see. It was close enough to Leslie, and the moonlight was dim enough that it blended in, kinda, was starting to soak up the pool of blood that had started collecting beneath Leslie's head—
Matias leaned over the railing of the boat, threw up into the sea.
The retching subsided eventually. He wiped from his mouth, with the back of his hand, the digested Subway sandwich bits. He looked over at Ashanti. She still hovered across the other side of the boat, as if of the three of them on this boat, she was the ghost.
Ghosts were company anyways.
"Ashanti," he called out, his voice wavering, unsteady. "Little help over here? With sorting things out?"
Loyalty: 1
Private, immediately after Matias & Me
Loyalty: 1
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
((Ashanti Baker continued from Matias & Me))
At some point, Ashanti had stopped stepping backwards.
Not because she wanted to, but because she'd hit the boat's cabin. From there, she stood, still wanting to move backwards and crush the wall behind her like paper mache yet forced to watch as Matias-
as Matias-
And she still watched as he rummaged his corpse, pilfered his belongings, and eventually vomited off the side of the boat.
Good, she'd thought.
She didn't know where that thought came from, but she didn't feel like a person anymore.
Part of her wanted to float into the sky, fall behind the cameras and watch this from home. There must have been so many lucky people who weren't picked, who got to live the rest of their lives while she enacted what production wanted from her as she tried in vain to keep ahold of something that was hers. She hadn't thought about them yet, about the ones who got to stay home and watch classmates die. She wasn't sure what she thought of them. But they might as well have not existed.
She heard her name.
But she ignored it.
Instead, she slid backwards down the cabin's outer wall, eventually coming to a stop as her rear end hit the deck, and stared into nothing.
At some point, Ashanti had stopped stepping backwards.
Not because she wanted to, but because she'd hit the boat's cabin. From there, she stood, still wanting to move backwards and crush the wall behind her like paper mache yet forced to watch as Matias-
as Matias-
And she still watched as he rummaged his corpse, pilfered his belongings, and eventually vomited off the side of the boat.
Good, she'd thought.
She didn't know where that thought came from, but she didn't feel like a person anymore.
Part of her wanted to float into the sky, fall behind the cameras and watch this from home. There must have been so many lucky people who weren't picked, who got to live the rest of their lives while she enacted what production wanted from her as she tried in vain to keep ahold of something that was hers. She hadn't thought about them yet, about the ones who got to stay home and watch classmates die. She wasn't sure what she thought of them. But they might as well have not existed.
She heard her name.
But she ignored it.
Instead, she slid backwards down the cabin's outer wall, eventually coming to a stop as her rear end hit the deck, and stared into nothing.
She didn't answer. Fucking fine then. He'd take care of things himself. Had been taking care of things himself since the start, nothing new.
He turned back to his bag, attempted to pull the zipper shut, and it caught on Leslie's first-aid kit. He pulled once, twice more, and it didn't budge, corners and edges of things attempting to jut out through the fabric of his bag. The thing was, like, he knew that the things could all fit, they weren't that big, he'd seen some other kids scavenge through three, four corpses just fine. It could fit, he could do this. It would be fine. The zipper was just being a bit—he tugged again, an inch of progress was made, nothing more—fucking stubborn. But if he just. Pulled. A bit. More. Then the thing. Would. Fucking. Close—
The zipper gave way, along with the teeth holding the bag shut. Everything he'd packed away spilled out onto the deck, some of it into the pool of blood.
A long, angry shout tore through his throat.
He stood up and kicked at the bag again and again and again, scattering his things, Leslie's things even more. His hands clenched, he drew back his arm and slammed his fist into his bag
the same way his fist slammed into Leslie's forehead
the same the glove gun triggered, tore through Leslie's head.
His fist stayed buried in his bag. He stayed hunched over the bag, face red, eyes wet, stomach heaving, dryly. There was nothing left to expel.
A minute or so after, he looked around himself, at all the things scattered around him. He turned back to Leslie's bag, dumped out the clothes, useless rags. He reached out to the debris, tried pulling the things closer to him so he could start packing again. One of the first-aid kits was slick on the surface, it slipped from his hand when he tried picking it up. He grabbed at it again, it slid from him further.
He looked down at his own hands, glared at them. They wouldn't stop shaking.
He looked towards the other side of the ship.
"Ashanti, please, could you just— I just need some— help me, please? Please?"
He turned back to his bag, attempted to pull the zipper shut, and it caught on Leslie's first-aid kit. He pulled once, twice more, and it didn't budge, corners and edges of things attempting to jut out through the fabric of his bag. The thing was, like, he knew that the things could all fit, they weren't that big, he'd seen some other kids scavenge through three, four corpses just fine. It could fit, he could do this. It would be fine. The zipper was just being a bit—he tugged again, an inch of progress was made, nothing more—fucking stubborn. But if he just. Pulled. A bit. More. Then the thing. Would. Fucking. Close—
The zipper gave way, along with the teeth holding the bag shut. Everything he'd packed away spilled out onto the deck, some of it into the pool of blood.
A long, angry shout tore through his throat.
He stood up and kicked at the bag again and again and again, scattering his things, Leslie's things even more. His hands clenched, he drew back his arm and slammed his fist into his bag
the same way his fist slammed into Leslie's forehead
the same the glove gun triggered, tore through Leslie's head.
His fist stayed buried in his bag. He stayed hunched over the bag, face red, eyes wet, stomach heaving, dryly. There was nothing left to expel.
A minute or so after, he looked around himself, at all the things scattered around him. He turned back to Leslie's bag, dumped out the clothes, useless rags. He reached out to the debris, tried pulling the things closer to him so he could start packing again. One of the first-aid kits was slick on the surface, it slipped from his hand when he tried picking it up. He grabbed at it again, it slid from him further.
He looked down at his own hands, glared at them. They wouldn't stop shaking.
He looked towards the other side of the ship.
"Ashanti, please, could you just— I just need some— help me, please? Please?"
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Ashanti's eyes eventually flickered into focus, hearing her name again. Matias still wanted her help. Funny, he didn't need her help earlier, when she offered it to him. To help him talk things through.
Weird how this relationship worked, wasn't it?
Ashanti remained silent. But she pulled herself up from the deck and began walking closer to her partner with her own bag. The closer she got to what used to be Leslie's head, she was filled with a mixed paint can of feelings.
A little of it was disgust. Nauseau.
The rest was hate. Hate for a single person.
Ashanti zipped open her bag, threw it down next to the pile of blood, and began scooping up every other duplicate.
She didn't look at Matias. She still hadn't said a single word since it happened, hands or otherwise.
Weird how this relationship worked, wasn't it?
Ashanti remained silent. But she pulled herself up from the deck and began walking closer to her partner with her own bag. The closer she got to what used to be Leslie's head, she was filled with a mixed paint can of feelings.
A little of it was disgust. Nauseau.
The rest was hate. Hate for a single person.
Ashanti zipped open her bag, threw it down next to the pile of blood, and began scooping up every other duplicate.
She didn't look at Matias. She still hadn't said a single word since it happened, hands or otherwise.
He jolted. His body stiffened as the bag dropped next to him with force.
He glanced over, saw Ashanti sort the things, her arms moving, stopping abruptly. Throwing the things into the bag, yanking the zipper open, closed. And not a single glance back at him. Another breeze passed by. The wind bit into his fingers, they were starting to numb.
She moved as if she had any stake in the decision Matias had made. She acted as if what he'd done had been such an affront to her, as if she had any stake in the decision.
The fucking gall of her.
It wasn't his fault, right? Leslie had asked him to do it, right? He'd just obliged. Leslie asked, and he'd obliged. She had the fucking gall to be mad at him for a decision he'd made for another person. Leslie wasn't her friend. There was nothing in it for her one way or the other. It's not like she'd lost anything when Leslie died. So, how could she— why did he feel like he was supposed to feel bad— why did he feel bad—why was she mad at him when it wasn't his fault— What did he do—
Stop it. Shut the fuck up. Stop. She'd get over herself. She'd signed up for this when she agreed to come with him. She didn't have the right to act otherwise.
He turned away from her. Put his own things back in with force. Jerked the zipper shut as well, nothing breaking this time. Yanked it up into the air, moved away from Leslie, feet thudding. There was nothing left for them here, nothing he wanted to stick around for.
He was only a few steps away from the ladder leading off the boat when he turned around, saw that Ashanti hadn't moved an inch. He scoffed, his voice took on an edge.
"You coming?"
He glanced over, saw Ashanti sort the things, her arms moving, stopping abruptly. Throwing the things into the bag, yanking the zipper open, closed. And not a single glance back at him. Another breeze passed by. The wind bit into his fingers, they were starting to numb.
She moved as if she had any stake in the decision Matias had made. She acted as if what he'd done had been such an affront to her, as if she had any stake in the decision.
The fucking gall of her.
It wasn't his fault, right? Leslie had asked him to do it, right? He'd just obliged. Leslie asked, and he'd obliged. She had the fucking gall to be mad at him for a decision he'd made for another person. Leslie wasn't her friend. There was nothing in it for her one way or the other. It's not like she'd lost anything when Leslie died. So, how could she— why did he feel like he was supposed to feel bad— why did he feel bad—why was she mad at him when it wasn't his fault— What did he do—
Stop it. Shut the fuck up. Stop. She'd get over herself. She'd signed up for this when she agreed to come with him. She didn't have the right to act otherwise.
He turned away from her. Put his own things back in with force. Jerked the zipper shut as well, nothing breaking this time. Yanked it up into the air, moved away from Leslie, feet thudding. There was nothing left for them here, nothing he wanted to stick around for.
He was only a few steps away from the ladder leading off the boat when he turned around, saw that Ashanti hadn't moved an inch. He scoffed, his voice took on an edge.
"You coming?"
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
This was just how it was going to be, wasn't it?
Ashanti doing all the little work, while Matias pretended that he was the only one who was suffering.
Never mind he'd be nowhere without her.
Never mind the fact she was the one carrying the jetpack around, and he hadn't offered to carry it once. Not even an offer.
Never mind that she was the one who told him, hey, you don't have to do this. You can avoid this.
She could have done it. She could have killed Leslie. She could have, if she'd chosen that path, but ever since she agreed to what Matias said back in the bowels of the cruise ship, she'd resigned herself to not going back on her word anymore. And every time something hard came up, she had to make a choice, and she had to see that choice through. When she told herself not to speak, when she told Matias she was doing for the finger across the palm, when she told Matias they couldn't kill Leslie because it was personal. These were choices she had to stick with, choices she couldn't go back on, because she didn't know what was going on in Matias's head.
There was an imbalance of power.
And when Matias asked if she was coming, she flared to life.
The paint can was only a single shade now.
Ashanti looked at Matias, and then without missing a beat, stormed over to him and pushed him into the side of the trawler.
She let the action hang there, just for a moment, before she finally started speaking again.
"I hate you."
Ashanti doing all the little work, while Matias pretended that he was the only one who was suffering.
Never mind he'd be nowhere without her.
Never mind the fact she was the one carrying the jetpack around, and he hadn't offered to carry it once. Not even an offer.
Never mind that she was the one who told him, hey, you don't have to do this. You can avoid this.
She could have done it. She could have killed Leslie. She could have, if she'd chosen that path, but ever since she agreed to what Matias said back in the bowels of the cruise ship, she'd resigned herself to not going back on her word anymore. And every time something hard came up, she had to make a choice, and she had to see that choice through. When she told herself not to speak, when she told Matias she was doing for the finger across the palm, when she told Matias they couldn't kill Leslie because it was personal. These were choices she had to stick with, choices she couldn't go back on, because she didn't know what was going on in Matias's head.
There was an imbalance of power.
And when Matias asked if she was coming, she flared to life.
The paint can was only a single shade now.
Ashanti looked at Matias, and then without missing a beat, stormed over to him and pushed him into the side of the trawler.
She let the action hang there, just for a moment, before she finally started speaking again.
"I hate you."
The railing knocked the breath out of him.
Did she just—
His eyes widened.
She just fucking—
Blood rushed through the back of his neck.
She just. She—
He whipped his body around, arms propelled forward. He rammed his hands into her shoulders, shoved her onto the ground.
His teeth ground into one another.
It took all he had not to go further.
"What the FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?"
Did she just—
His eyes widened.
She just fucking—
Blood rushed through the back of his neck.
She just. She—
He whipped his body around, arms propelled forward. He rammed his hands into her shoulders, shoved her onto the ground.
His teeth ground into one another.
It took all he had not to go further.
"What the FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?"
The urge to speak had become so repressed that Ashanti didn't even let out an exhalation the moment she hit the deck. She simply looked back at Matias from the floor below, regained her footing, dusted herself off even though there was no dust to be found, and continued speaking.
"I hate you, Matias."
She locked with his eyes and did not let go.
"I hate you, and I'm never going to stop hating you."
There must have been a lot of questions, questions that Matias himself had asked, but Ashanti didn't let that stop her.
"This is who we are now. This is who we need to be. We have to kill to get out of here. We've got no other option. We are walking down that road."
Ashanti paused. She balled her fingers into a fist, before continuing.
"But that's not why I hate you."
It was why she hated him, it was one of many reasons why Ashanti hated Matias, but she had something else to point out.
"Do you know what happens if I die?"
"If I die, you get to move on. You get to speak again, like you've been speaking now. You can join our team. You get to find people who don't hate you, who you get along with. Maybe they won't ask you to kill them."
She felt her chest shake.
"Do you know what happens if you die?"
"If you die, I've got nobody. As far as I know, you and me are the only people here who speak this language, but right now I'm the only one who needs to."
"I need you more than you need me."
"And I know this."
"So no matter how much I hate you, or no matter how much you think the same of me, I have to stay with you, and I have to help you, because I-"
Ashanti paused. She'd forgotten a word again.
"L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y."
"-have no other choice."
Ashanti's brow furrowed. She brought her thumb up to beneath her eye and wiped. It came away wet. It was never not going to be strange that she was allowed to cry all she wanted but she'd never be able to sob again.
"I hate you, Matias."
She locked with his eyes and did not let go.
"I hate you, and I'm never going to stop hating you."
There must have been a lot of questions, questions that Matias himself had asked, but Ashanti didn't let that stop her.
"This is who we are now. This is who we need to be. We have to kill to get out of here. We've got no other option. We are walking down that road."
Ashanti paused. She balled her fingers into a fist, before continuing.
"But that's not why I hate you."
It was why she hated him, it was one of many reasons why Ashanti hated Matias, but she had something else to point out.
"Do you know what happens if I die?"
"If I die, you get to move on. You get to speak again, like you've been speaking now. You can join our team. You get to find people who don't hate you, who you get along with. Maybe they won't ask you to kill them."
She felt her chest shake.
"Do you know what happens if you die?"
"If you die, I've got nobody. As far as I know, you and me are the only people here who speak this language, but right now I'm the only one who needs to."
"I need you more than you need me."
"And I know this."
"So no matter how much I hate you, or no matter how much you think the same of me, I have to stay with you, and I have to help you, because I-"
Ashanti paused. She'd forgotten a word again.
"L-I-T-E-R-A-L-L-Y."
"-have no other choice."
Ashanti's brow furrowed. She brought her thumb up to beneath her eye and wiped. It came away wet. It was never not going to be strange that she was allowed to cry all she wanted but she'd never be able to sob again.
Matias regarded her the entire time with piercing eyes. Once she finished speaking, he nodded slowly, shoulders rising, falling, matching the inflow, outflow of air from his lungs.
"Y- you done with your monologue now? You done?"
Matias spoke with a wobbly voice, quiet. Eyes piercing.
"I'm really glad to know I mean so fucking much to you, Ashanti, I really needed to hear that, it's really fucking heartwarming. And... I just, I'm, I'm really FUCKIN' curious as to whether or not- as to why, if you know you need me, if you know we need each OTHER, why you- you- you fuckin' push me and antagonize me, why you blame me for- for- for-"
His voice broke off.
"You heard the guy, right? Leslie? You heard him? He was going, and I didn't want him to go, but it was either I- it was either- why the fuck does it matter so much to you? Why does he matter so much to you? We meet, like, once in middle school and you never even give a FUCK about me after that, I don't even think you even fuckin' met Leslie, you never- you with your ditzy friends and your ditzy interests in this ditsy fuckin' school, you never gave a fuck about any of us, and then- why did you feel you even had the fuckin' RIGHT to step in, huh? I didn't- I DIDN'T WANT THIS. I DIDN'T WANT THIS. I wanted him to- I didn't want him to die, but I- if I didn't do it, then someone else would, if I didn't do it, then someone else would make him hurt and I- I can't handle that! I can't fucking stomach the thought of that, so I- I- I-"
His hand dragged through his hair, nails scraped over his scalp, his cheeks, covered his face. He began to fold in on himself, the only sound after the storm being a frenzied wheezing, deep, shaky breaths.
"Y- you done with your monologue now? You done?"
Matias spoke with a wobbly voice, quiet. Eyes piercing.
"I'm really glad to know I mean so fucking much to you, Ashanti, I really needed to hear that, it's really fucking heartwarming. And... I just, I'm, I'm really FUCKIN' curious as to whether or not- as to why, if you know you need me, if you know we need each OTHER, why you- you- you fuckin' push me and antagonize me, why you blame me for- for- for-"
His voice broke off.
"You heard the guy, right? Leslie? You heard him? He was going, and I didn't want him to go, but it was either I- it was either- why the fuck does it matter so much to you? Why does he matter so much to you? We meet, like, once in middle school and you never even give a FUCK about me after that, I don't even think you even fuckin' met Leslie, you never- you with your ditzy friends and your ditzy interests in this ditsy fuckin' school, you never gave a fuck about any of us, and then- why did you feel you even had the fuckin' RIGHT to step in, huh? I didn't- I DIDN'T WANT THIS. I DIDN'T WANT THIS. I wanted him to- I didn't want him to die, but I- if I didn't do it, then someone else would, if I didn't do it, then someone else would make him hurt and I- I can't handle that! I can't fucking stomach the thought of that, so I- I- I-"
His hand dragged through his hair, nails scraped over his scalp, his cheeks, covered his face. He began to fold in on himself, the only sound after the storm being a frenzied wheezing, deep, shaky breaths.
For every piercing word, Ashanti moved nought. For every assumption Matias made about her life, Ashanti remained still. The tears were still wet on her thumb.
But once he stopped, Ashanti felt the shaking in her chest stop and become replaced with something else entirely.
She stepped forward, and did not stop stepping forward until Matias was the meat in a sandwich with her and the railing as the bread.
"I don't know how to explain this, but-"
If Ashanti could have spoken words with her mouth, they would have poisoned him. She thought about watching him die from it. But she snapped back and moved her hands as close as possible to Matias' face.
"NOT. EVERYTHING. IS. ABOUT. YOU."
Her point had been communicated. She stepped back. She could still feel his hot breath clogging her pores.
"I don't care about your feelings, or your shitty dead friend's feelings, or my shitty living friends' feelings. This has nothing to do with how you feel, or how I feel, or how anyone here with a bomb around their neck feels."
"We aren't victims here, no matter how much you want to believe it. We're actors. We act out the script, and we are being forced along by production. This isn't a tragedy, this is business. And the sooner you get that through your head, and stop acting like what's happened to you is the worst thing to ever happen to anyone, like nobody in the past fifteen years has been forced to kill their friend, the sooner we can leave."
"So man the fuck up."
There were many names that Ashanti had spoken with over the years who would have been proud of Ashanti right now. They contained numbers, inappropriate capitalizations, and profile pictures with cartoons in them. She would never let them know that they'd taught her this.
But once he stopped, Ashanti felt the shaking in her chest stop and become replaced with something else entirely.
She stepped forward, and did not stop stepping forward until Matias was the meat in a sandwich with her and the railing as the bread.
"I don't know how to explain this, but-"
If Ashanti could have spoken words with her mouth, they would have poisoned him. She thought about watching him die from it. But she snapped back and moved her hands as close as possible to Matias' face.
"NOT. EVERYTHING. IS. ABOUT. YOU."
Her point had been communicated. She stepped back. She could still feel his hot breath clogging her pores.
"I don't care about your feelings, or your shitty dead friend's feelings, or my shitty living friends' feelings. This has nothing to do with how you feel, or how I feel, or how anyone here with a bomb around their neck feels."
"We aren't victims here, no matter how much you want to believe it. We're actors. We act out the script, and we are being forced along by production. This isn't a tragedy, this is business. And the sooner you get that through your head, and stop acting like what's happened to you is the worst thing to ever happen to anyone, like nobody in the past fifteen years has been forced to kill their friend, the sooner we can leave."
"So man the fuck up."
There were many names that Ashanti had spoken with over the years who would have been proud of Ashanti right now. They contained numbers, inappropriate capitalizations, and profile pictures with cartoons in them. She would never let them know that they'd taught her this.
He froze completely as the force pushing him against the cold metal bars registered itself in his mind, as he became acutely aware of the frigid air slightly tugging at the back of his hoodie. His breaths slowed almost to a stop. His eyes widened, enough to show the whites above, as his pupils slowly drifted over to the hateful, spiteful bitch making signs right in his fucking face.
He meant nothing to her, he realized. It was fucking killing him. He fuckin- he poured his heart out, and it meant nothing to her. He needed- he didn't need her but he needed someone, he needed someone to fucking listen, and she wasn't doing that. He could just spiral down and she would just fucking watch. She needed him in that she needed someone to help her fulfill whatever petty-ass vendetta she had against the producers or whatever, but that was all. And he was supposed to just, to just fucking grind his teeth while she talked shit about the guy who'd died not more than five fucking minutes ago.
He hated her, he realized. Abso-fucking-lutely despised her.
He wanted to fucking snap her hands off.
She finished speaking, smug fucking face still breathing tuna-tainted air right into his face, and he stepped forward. His arms swooped downwards, grabbed onto her wrists, nails digging into the flesh. His grip was enough to leave his knuckles white, enough to make his arms shake.
"What happened to 'This is too personal,' huh?" he asked through teeth clenched so hard it felt like they'd collapse into each other. "So- so I have to care about your fucking feelings, but my feelings don't? I have to man the fuck up, I have to fucking GET OVER IT, but you risk witnessing a tiny little bit of violence, and that's too much for you? That's TOO FUCKING PERSONAL?"
His face was leaned in close enough now that his mouth was not even an inch away from her nose, that he could fucking maul her face if he were so inclined.
Their eyes locked for seconds, an eternity, it didn't matter.
"Fuck you."
He threw down his arms, yanked hers in the process. Stepped sideways out of the little sandwich thing they had going on, walked towards the ladder leading off the boat.
"I'll keep that in mind next time one of your friends dies. Look forward to it, actually."
He paused. Hitched up his bag, looked behind him.
"You can stay silent for now, sign your fuckin' monologues to yourself.
"You fuckin' cunt."
He hopped off the ship, and walked off into the jetties.
((Matias Juarez continues in Everything Is Going According to Plan))
He meant nothing to her, he realized. It was fucking killing him. He fuckin- he poured his heart out, and it meant nothing to her. He needed- he didn't need her but he needed someone, he needed someone to fucking listen, and she wasn't doing that. He could just spiral down and she would just fucking watch. She needed him in that she needed someone to help her fulfill whatever petty-ass vendetta she had against the producers or whatever, but that was all. And he was supposed to just, to just fucking grind his teeth while she talked shit about the guy who'd died not more than five fucking minutes ago.
He hated her, he realized. Abso-fucking-lutely despised her.
He wanted to fucking snap her hands off.
She finished speaking, smug fucking face still breathing tuna-tainted air right into his face, and he stepped forward. His arms swooped downwards, grabbed onto her wrists, nails digging into the flesh. His grip was enough to leave his knuckles white, enough to make his arms shake.
"What happened to 'This is too personal,' huh?" he asked through teeth clenched so hard it felt like they'd collapse into each other. "So- so I have to care about your fucking feelings, but my feelings don't? I have to man the fuck up, I have to fucking GET OVER IT, but you risk witnessing a tiny little bit of violence, and that's too much for you? That's TOO FUCKING PERSONAL?"
His face was leaned in close enough now that his mouth was not even an inch away from her nose, that he could fucking maul her face if he were so inclined.
Their eyes locked for seconds, an eternity, it didn't matter.
"Fuck you."
He threw down his arms, yanked hers in the process. Stepped sideways out of the little sandwich thing they had going on, walked towards the ladder leading off the boat.
"I'll keep that in mind next time one of your friends dies. Look forward to it, actually."
He paused. Hitched up his bag, looked behind him.
"You can stay silent for now, sign your fuckin' monologues to yourself.
"You fuckin' cunt."
He hopped off the ship, and walked off into the jetties.
((Matias Juarez continues in Everything Is Going According to Plan))
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
And that wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
Ashanti had seen this exact same conversation happen over and over again, between pairs and couples and lovers and exes on this show - one was doubtful, the other pulled them through.
What had she done wrong?
She'd said everything right.
And before Ashanti knew it, she had been staring motionless at the night sky for hours.
Ashanti had seen this exact same conversation happen over and over again, between pairs and couples and lovers and exes on this show - one was doubtful, the other pulled them through.
What had she done wrong?
She'd said everything right.
And before Ashanti knew it, she had been staring motionless at the night sky for hours.
There was something Ashanti was just going to have to come to grips with, and it was the fact that Matias more than likely wasn't coming back. She'd refused to let the thought pass through her mind to any meaningful extent. The words had begun, but she'd created her own screams to kill them in the crib. They weren't real. They weren't real.
And it took only a few moments after the sentence finished for Ashanti to realize the iron grip her hands had on the railings of the trawler, and just how quick her breaths were escaping her lungs.
She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn't. That was the reality of it, that from the moment she'd met Matias she'd had to monitor every single sound that escaped her mouth, lest they be compared to words. And even in moments of distress, like when Matias refused to listen to her or when she stood here, hands rusted, she had to control herself far more than anyone else, which in all sincerity was the story of her life.
And the longer she stared at the blue horizon, the more she remembered the people. They scuttled around, out of view to her but eyes everywhere. Just like the cameras, she didn't know where they were but she knew she could be seen by them. It was too open right now.
A few moments passed as she tried to pry her own fingers apart, and eventually they unclasped. It felt unnatural that she could move them, hell it felt unnatural at all that she was doing anything at all without Matias. Had she really relied on him that much? With how much her back ached she felt it unlikely. From where she stood, she saw the cabin, and curled her lips. There was a door somewhere in the four walls behind there, and under that door was the rest of the boat, not just the deck. She only had the words on the map describing this boat to go off of, but there could be a bed down there. Bed meant sleep, and sleep didn't mean safety but it meant less being awake, and after the last few hours that was good enough.
Ashanti started powering her legs in motion towards the cabin, only to stop and turn back towards the initial entrance. A pile of silver and tubes, sitting there. She was going to have to carry those again, wasn't she? Of course she was. She'd never even given herself the opportunity to pawn it off onto Matias, not even for a moment. He couldn't have even had the decency to take it with him when he stormed off, the process of which she was going to have to explain to herself once it was down with her in the bowels of a new boat.
She scratched the edge of her forehead, before trudging herself over to one of the handles and giving it a good yank. It did not elegantly glide across the deck like she wished, but it made some distance. Not enough, but it was moving quicker than she'd moved all day. She pulled again, and it made it further, and soon it was resting on the corner.
She opened the doorway, and gave it another yank.
And at some point, she'd forgotten where the edge began, and her ankle met air.
Ashanti felt the wind sailing by her ears.
((Ashanti Baker continued elsewhere))
And it took only a few moments after the sentence finished for Ashanti to realize the iron grip her hands had on the railings of the trawler, and just how quick her breaths were escaping her lungs.
She wanted to ignore them, but she couldn't. That was the reality of it, that from the moment she'd met Matias she'd had to monitor every single sound that escaped her mouth, lest they be compared to words. And even in moments of distress, like when Matias refused to listen to her or when she stood here, hands rusted, she had to control herself far more than anyone else, which in all sincerity was the story of her life.
And the longer she stared at the blue horizon, the more she remembered the people. They scuttled around, out of view to her but eyes everywhere. Just like the cameras, she didn't know where they were but she knew she could be seen by them. It was too open right now.
A few moments passed as she tried to pry her own fingers apart, and eventually they unclasped. It felt unnatural that she could move them, hell it felt unnatural at all that she was doing anything at all without Matias. Had she really relied on him that much? With how much her back ached she felt it unlikely. From where she stood, she saw the cabin, and curled her lips. There was a door somewhere in the four walls behind there, and under that door was the rest of the boat, not just the deck. She only had the words on the map describing this boat to go off of, but there could be a bed down there. Bed meant sleep, and sleep didn't mean safety but it meant less being awake, and after the last few hours that was good enough.
Ashanti started powering her legs in motion towards the cabin, only to stop and turn back towards the initial entrance. A pile of silver and tubes, sitting there. She was going to have to carry those again, wasn't she? Of course she was. She'd never even given herself the opportunity to pawn it off onto Matias, not even for a moment. He couldn't have even had the decency to take it with him when he stormed off, the process of which she was going to have to explain to herself once it was down with her in the bowels of a new boat.
She scratched the edge of her forehead, before trudging herself over to one of the handles and giving it a good yank. It did not elegantly glide across the deck like she wished, but it made some distance. Not enough, but it was moving quicker than she'd moved all day. She pulled again, and it made it further, and soon it was resting on the corner.
She opened the doorway, and gave it another yank.
And at some point, she'd forgotten where the edge began, and her ankle met air.
Ashanti felt the wind sailing by her ears.
((Ashanti Baker continued elsewhere))