Why did his knee burn again?
Why wouldn't it stop?
Damion blinked once, twice. Darkness. Had he gone blind? He stretched out his left arm, his arm that had doubled in weight since the last time he used it. He held it above him for one, two seconds. Three. Stretched his arm taut. He still saw nothing.
He turned his head to the left. Blinked. Saw rectangular outlines against a starry sky.
Ah. Shipping yard. Nighttime. He'd finally gotten some sleep.
His head also felt heavy. As if his brain had doubled in weight. In density. Heh. If it had done just that before, maybe he'd not be in this position. Wounded. Alone.
It hurt.
Where had Theo and James gone? Obviously, Damion wouldn't be going anywhere, so it wasn't like they'd lost him. Had they killed each other? Had one of them killed the other? Or had they just decided to abandon him after their quarrel, dismissed him as a lost cause?
Damion wasn’t sure which option he preferred.
A minute had passed by now, and his arm still stayed in the air, stretched, even after he’d established that he could still see, that he still existed. It hurt. But it was a familiar pain, a pain he had yearned for at one point, before his knee had overwhelmed everything. A pain he still yearned for, perhaps.
He’d felt that pain for a few fleeting seconds before James took it from him just like that. And while it had hurt, it also felt like something else. Something familiar.
In those few seconds the gun had been in his hands, both their eyes were on him. And for those few seconds, Damion had been more than someone to watch over, someone to take care of. He’d been more than a pet. They looked at him the way his groupmates would look at him during a group project, when he’d be calling the shots. The way his teammates would look at him on the field, waiting for him to intercept the ball, keep it from entering the goal. For a few seconds, he actually mattered.
And then Theo and James decided those few seconds were too much. And they prioritized their fucking morals and pride over Damion. And sure, maybe all that actually did matter, maybe they really did need to figure out how they’d go about surviving and all, but couldn’t they have pretended for a few seconds that he mattered? Couldn’t they just give him that?
They never even let him decide whether or not to go through with the plan. Whether or not to become bait.
Not like it mattered what he wanted to do now. James and Theo had made sure of that.
He put his arm down, pressed his other hand against the muscles to relax it. Pressed down harder as his knee began to act up again. Bit his lip as tears leaked out the corners of his eyes.
If a man screams and no one is around to hear him, does he even make a sound?
To the cameras, Damion made plenty of noise.
---
Morning came, shone light on the crimson red puddle that had formed around Damion’s right knee, and the green-red blotches marring the surrounding flesh. It illuminated the bottle of piss sitting a meter from him, the only option he had with his limited mobility. The half-empty bottle of ibuprofen, the one he’d almost surely been using up too quickly. And it gave visibility to the rusty ceiling, the ceiling lined with 81 or 82 ridges, Damion wasn’t quite sure which.
He felt even heavier, surprisingly. As if the Earth couldn’t wait for him to die, as if it just wanted to swallow him whole. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Sweat drops dripped down the side of his neck, and yet, somehow, they felt like sheets of ice just sucking all the heat from him. He had taken off his shirt at one point to stop the sweat, and yet it somehow dripped from him even more, with rivers flowing all over his body. He opted to keep his shirt on, to stick his arms inside and preserve what little warmth remained.
They weren’t nice details to think about, but the terrorists hadn’t left him much choice. With the confiscation of his phone, and his allies simply being gone, there was nothing else to occupy his attention. At least, nothing he wanted to occupy his attention. So, he continued to tally the score, count the damage.
He took out a half-chewed loaf of bread, took a bite. His breakfast. So much had been taken from him already. He wouldn’t let anyone take this from him, this last remaining semblance of normality.
He hadn’t shared much words with James or Theo during their time together, but at least the possibility of a conversation had remained then. At least he could consider what he would say to them, if he would say anything at all, what they would possibly reply, and the almost-conversations he held would’ve been good enough for him.
It would’ve come to an end eventually, he knew that. He just wished it hadn’t ended like this. Of his own doing. Those few seconds of power, of influence, they had been so glorious. A victory. But a pyrrhic one.
Before he could continue thinking, Danya greeted him, and he sat up. His breath stopped. Two names to hang onto, two unsaid requests asked to whoever would, could listen. That one name be said and the other left silent.
One of his requests was almost immediately granted with the announcement of Blaine’s name. He’d provided a show. He’d been bludgeoned.
He tipped his head back and cackled, his mouth gaping as his body shook. It hurt, like most things, but this was a pain he was willing to deal with. He continued until one of his other requests hadn’t been granted. Jasmine. He’d said her name. She was on the living side of the equation, one of those who had ended up on the announcements of their own volition, so there was that. But.
Damion had thought he was well-aware of how deep Jasmine’s hatred for Paris ran. Had heard enough comments spoken under her breath, passionate tear-filled rants and monologues about abandonment and commitment and why wouldn’t he just give her closure, why would he just ignore her like that? He thought he’d known the extent.
And then he moved onto the danger zones, and it turned out there was third request he hung onto, one he hadn’t even remembered until then.
Don’t say the shipping yard. Don’t say the shipping yard. Don’t say the shipping ya
“Anyone camping out in the Mess Hall, on the other hand, should get moving unless you want this meal to be your last.”
He finally started breathing again, his chest heaving as the announcement ended. He then fell back on the ground, and winced as a throbbing began from behind his eyes. He stayed like that, closing his eyes, for a few minutes. To be honest, he’d been hoping to get back to sleep, but that hammer against his knee continued, relentlessly. Even with the painkillers, the throbbing subsided only enough to stop consuming him, to let him think, but not enough to let him rest.
Once a few minutes had passed, once he’d gotten used enough to the headache, this new pain, he raised his right arm once more. Felt that pain again as it stayed there. He closed his left eye to get better focus, and pointed his index and middle finger towards the rusty ceiling. He curled them twice. Bang, bang. One for Vincent, one for Lance. Bang. One for James. Bang. One for Theo. His fingers then almost convulsed. The rest for Blaine.
Was that so hard? It hadn’t been that hard for Jasmine.
He sighed to himself. Closed his eyes. Back to the tunnel. Back to Lance, to Vincent. He could’ve shot them right there. It’s not like they lasted that much longer anyways. If he hadn’t laughed, they wouldn’t have seen him. It would’ve been quick. Painless. Why hadn’t he shot them again? Dignity. For himself. The semblance of morality, as if it mattered whether you died on the first day or the tenth.
Because he cared so much about what people thought of him, about how much Vincent and Lance would hate him, as if they were people he didn’t just ignore when passing by them in the hallways. As if they were more than people he recognized. And because for the longest time, he wanted to keep up the image of being a good person, an unstained person, as if anyone would get out of this ordeal without a single crack, as if the entire world was watching when, most likely, videos of this would be kept away in the depths of LiveLeak, far, far away from the eyes of most people. As if they wouldn’t understand that he just did what he had to do to survive.
The worst part of it all was that part of him still believed in this fantasy, still hung onto it so hard. Maybe it was the part of him that compelled him to take a loaf of bread out in the morning and munch on it, just so he could say he had his breakfast. That last normal thing. But, no, that part of him had lost all authority the moment Blaine shot him, the moment his goodwill and trust had earned him nothing.
James and Theo had asked him yesterday whether to go through with the plan. It’s not like they let him choose anyways because they just left him, it’s not like it would matter, but he was already thinking it, so, would he have done it?
”Yes.”
He let out this single word to the stagnant air, and no one would hear it, no one would understand what he meant, but he said it. Yes, he would’ve gone through with it. Fuck everyone else. If he had to suffer, other had to suffer. It wasn’t fair that only he got punished. And if they asked him afterwards why he’d done it, he’d just say that he needed to survive, and it would’ve been left at that.
If he’d just said it immediately, if he’d just swallowed his pride, maybe he would still have a chance. Maybe he would actually be doing something, something other than rotting away in a shipping crate. The announcements said he’d outlasted eight more people, but did it even count? He was basically camping, hiding out in some far-away place. He hadn’t survived through will or initiative like Jasmine, he’d been brought here by sheer luck. As if he deserved it. As if it could do anything more for him.
But no. James and Theo hadn’t even been on the announcements. So, it was confirmed. They just left him. Found him too useless to be considered company. He hadn’t been decisive enough, hadn’t been mobile enough, hadn’t even been talkative enough. They’d just fought it out and left him there. OK.
And he hated them for that, because they were wrong. Damion could be useful. He could be decisive. He could talk. Words just weren’t needed. He just needed to gather himself. That was all it was.
He hated them because it was easier than hating himself.
The announcements had spared him today. But would they spare him tomorrow? The next day? He couldn’t say. It would be easy to just stay here. Wait for help. Hope for James or Theo to come back, give him another chance. But he’d been lying there for days, and no one else had come. And maybe no one else would ever come to help. Maybe his luck would have run out. And, he couldn’t leave it at that. Jasmine hadn’t left it at that. She’d actually done something.
And Damion Castillo would too, because he didn’t leave things as is. He was tired of relying on luck, relying on the grace of God. He could do this. He was Damion and he could this. He would get out of this crate, out of this yard, find someone, some people to help him. He would meet Jasmine, they would think of something, and he would be something, something more than a victim.
He sat up, reached over, and put back the loaf of bread into his bag. He then grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen. Held it in his hands. He would need this.
He clenched his teeth, and with a scream, he turned himself over, and pulled forward.
---
Damion’s tears fell onto the concrete as sobs echoed and bounced off the crate. Sunlight beat down mercilessly on him, his skin both burning and freezing as sweat flowed. Behind him, a ten-meter long streak of red snaked from the crate, leading up to his sideways-bent leg.
His hands shook as he opened the bottle, poured out five pills. Chewed them up. His third dose.
He pulled forwards.
--
His breakfast leaked out of his mouth. It started gushing in between coughs, gasps for air, splashing on Damion’s shirt. It revolted him, honestly, but he needed the shirt to protect his torso, keep the rocks from slicing up his chest.
After he finished vomiting, he reached for his bag. Pulled out an energy bar. Took a bite. He couldn’t deal with lost nutrients.
This was for Jasmine. For himself.
He continued.
--
The indents the gravel left on his arms started to drip red, joining the rivers of sweat. Stings adding to the deep burning in his muscles. Rectangular shadows now stretched over him, outlined by orange-red light. The streak of red was now thirty meters. In front of him, crate after crate sat there, almost mocking him.
He thought he’d heard a few footsteps before. A silhouette of that sound. Could’ve been seagulls. But it could’ve been people.
He pushed himself up.
”HELP!”
“HELP!”
“Help!”
“help!”
“help”
The echoes mocked him as well. He’d thought they were other people. He’d hoped. Hoped that, even if they weren’t other people, they could bring other people, bring respite.
Someone would hear him. Eventually.
He pushed.
--
He breathed in and out. Heavy breaths.
He could barely see a thing. The moon hung above him, but its light seemed so shallow.
Had there ever been anything more to this island? Anything more than crates and concrete? Maybe, maybe he’d just made it all up, the tunnels and Lance and Vincent and Theo and James.
Maybe he wasn’t really seeing anything, and those bare square silhouettes in front of him were light spots, the same ones you saw when you looked at the light too much. Lord knew how much light had been beaten down onto him these past few hours, how much light he’d absorbed.
And then, he saw a round silhouette. A cylindrical one. Was this a person? He chuckled quietly to himself. Pushed forwards.
“Hey!”
The silhouette didn’t move.
“Hey?”
He continued. Grit his teeth. And then he got a closer look.
A barrel.
He spat in its direction.
--
he was so tired.
So
so
tired.
He was so sick. Of rectangles. Of concrete. Of crawling. Of pain. Of being sick.
There had been something more to his life at some point in time. Something more than pushing forwards. Something beyond this shipping yard. There had been trees. And ground. And voices. People. Friends. And Jasmine. And soccer. And family. And Denton. There had been something more. So much more.
What was it again?
What were those things like again?
When was the last time he’d been happy?
He just needed rest. Respite. Just for a bit.
Just
---
He opened his eyes to sunlight.
“Shitshitshitshitshit-”
He pushed himself up.
Still more crates. Still more meters.
He had to, had to surpass them. Had to get out. Had to.
He dragged himself. His bandage finally fell off. Gravel started rubbing itself into his knee. He screamed. But he continued. He had to. Had to. Had to. Had to. Had
The speakers started crackling. And he stopped. Time stopped.
There were only two things he hung onto. Only two things that mattered to him, because almost everything else was of no consequence. Say James’ name, say Theo’s, say everyone’s, just don’t say those two syllables, don’t even think of these two syllables, these two syllables you’ve held onto for these past few hours, these syllables you’ve depended on, do not think of them now, not now in this time of death, do not jinx it, even if this is just superstition, do not raise the chances by any degree, do not even think about not thinking of her, just please please please don’t say her name don’t allude to it do not involve her in this please please please she has shown up once once is enough please please please
"I'm sorry to say that one of yesterday's MVPs met her end. Brigid Paxton delivered a little karmic justice to Jasmine King via polearm.”
I
I
Justice?
No
No
"The Mess Hall is no longer a Danger Zone, but The Shipping Yard, The Tunnels, The Lighthouse, and The Field of Flowers are all off-limits for at least today. Some of you had better get moving."
NO
beep
NO
NO
NO NO NO NO NONONONONONONONONONONONON O N O N O
no
no.
beep
Damion sobbed into the concrete.
Pounded his fist against the ground once.
beep
He'd asked only two things of the announcements, two things. And both those requests, just stomped into the ground. Ignored.
beep
He honestly didn't know what to do now.
Maybe this wasn't a death sentence. Maybe he could literally just walk off the pain. Or hop it off.
beep
Damion looked up. Saw the dozens of crates in his view. He pushed himself up on his left leg, but simply stumbled forward, scraped his face. He tried this a few more times, but it didn't get him any more progress. Any more time.
He hugged his knee. Cried.
beep
There wasn't anything more to do now, really.
Nothing that could be done.
beep
You know, perhaps this was supposed to happen.
Jasmine was gone, so maybe he was supposed to follow.
beep
Maybe he could live with this.
beep
beep
beep
beep
There was one thing though.
beep
Even after everything, after these past few hours, the adrenaline that had rushed through his veins when he pointed the gun at Vincent, Lance, and when he'd grabbed hold of the grenade launcher, that memory still resonated.
That feeling of control.
beep
He got out the bottle of ibuprofen. The bottle of asprin.
beep
Downed them both. Washed it off with water.
beep
Maybe they would take effect immediately. Hopefully. He didn't know how overdoses work.
beep beep
Maybe they would finally end that hammering, that fire in his knee.
beep beep beep
Maybe he could just fade. Like the movies. Like the books. Walk off into the canteen with Jasmine and Eris and Theo.
beep
Talk about math with James.
beep
Maybe.
beep
He closed his eyes and waited.
beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep
beep beep beep beep beep beep
Why wasn't Jasmine here yet?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Where was his respite? His control?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Why couldn't he just get this one thing? This one request?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He opened his eyes.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
All he wanted was to fade. All he wanted was to be with them one last time. Why couldn't he just get that?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He deserved so much better.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
And he would get so much better. He would get everything he deserved.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He lifted up his head, and smashed it into the concrete.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Did so over and over again. His vision blurred.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Not much time left. Almost none at all.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
It hurt. God, god, it hurt, but he needed to do this. Needed to wrest this one thing from the terrorists because all he needed
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
all he needed was a trip to the canteen with Jasmine and a last run on the soccer field and a last supper a last and first kiss a last
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He scrambled for his first-aid kit, and grabbed the safety scissors. He ran his finger over the edge. Dull. But maybe it would do the trick, so he pointed
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
project last assignment last day in school last graduation last day at home spent watching TV writing codes watching soccer doing
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
it at his torso, and plunged, and it slid, did not sink in, it bruised, and this was not enough, this would not do the trick, so he plunged it and plunged it and
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
absolutely nothing at all just wiling time away when he had time to spare time to waste time to pretend that there was a lot more
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
it did not pierce an inch and the collar this metal choker it just wouldn't stop wouldn't shut up make it shut up and so he raised his head and he
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
than seventeen years to this lonely pitiful wasteful ambition pathetic desperate existence of his more than elementary and middle
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
smashed it against the concrete again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
school and high school more to life than assignments and exams and projects and academics more to life than these hallways and
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
and his skull was cracking and he bled from there and his nose and his mouth and his arms and his knee and WHY WASN'T THIS WORKING WHY WASN'T
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
HE DYING WHY COULDN'T HE JUST DIE WHY COULDN'T HE JUST HAVE A HAPPY ENDING A HAPPY MOMENT A HAPPY SOMETHING
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
HE HURT HE BLED HE SCREAMED AND IT DID NOTHING OF WORTH NOTHING WORKED HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING OF WORTH ANYTHING
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
BEEP
B033: DAMION CASTILLO: DECEASED
37 STUDENTS REMAIN
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Where was his respite? His control?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Why couldn't he just get this one thing? This one request?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He opened his eyes.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
All he wanted was to fade. All he wanted was to be with them one last time. Why couldn't he just get that?
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He deserved so much better.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
And he would get so much better. He would get everything he deserved.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He lifted up his head, and smashed it into the concrete.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Did so over and over again. His vision blurred.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
Not much time left. Almost none at all.
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
It hurt. God, god, it hurt, but he needed to do this. Needed to wrest this one thing from the terrorists because all he needed
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
all he needed was a trip to the canteen with Jasmine and a last run on the soccer field and a last supper a last and first kiss a last
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
He scrambled for his first-aid kit, and grabbed the safety scissors. He ran his finger over the edge. Dull. But maybe it would do the trick, so he pointed
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
project last assignment last day in school last graduation last day at home spent watching TV writing codes watching soccer doing
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
it at his torso, and plunged, and it slid, did not sink in, it bruised, and this was not enough, this would not do the trick, so he plunged it and plunged it and
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
absolutely nothing at all just wiling time away when he had time to spare time to waste time to pretend that there was a lot more
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
it did not pierce an inch and the collar this metal choker it just wouldn't stop wouldn't shut up make it shut up and so he raised his head and he
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
than seventeen years to this lonely pitiful wasteful ambition pathetic desperate existence of his more than elementary and middle
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
smashed it against the concrete again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
school and high school more to life than assignments and exams and projects and academics more to life than these hallways and
beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep beep
and his skull was cracking and he bled from there and his nose and his mouth and his arms and his knee and WHY WASN'T THIS WORKING WHY WASN'T
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
HE DYING WHY COULDN'T HE JUST DIE WHY COULDN'T HE JUST HAVE A HAPPY ENDING A HAPPY MOMENT A HAPPY SOMETHING
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
HE HURT HE BLED HE SCREAMED AND IT DID NOTHING OF WORTH NOTHING WORKED HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING OF WORTH ANYTHING
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
BEEP
B033: DAMION CASTILLO: DECEASED
37 STUDENTS REMAIN
