((Kami Steele continued from Picture This))
Wow... this is not symbolic at all.
And where did our heroine find herself next?
A jailhouse. No seriously, that was the building she had been trying to enter earlier. In all honesty, that was what it was.
Of course it was a fucking jailhouse. Look at all the cells. Look at the bars. These were like the ones in those stories where the prisoners tried to get the keys off the dog or something silly like that.
And of course it would be amusing to see a fledgling murderer enter a jailhouse if she wasn't the murderer.
Well, at least it had someplace to lay down.
Kami quickly found a nice bed inside one of the cells, and plopped herself down on it.
Well then.
She stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought.
Never in her life would she ever expect to shoot a drunk chick. Or- well, anyone really. She wasn't the type to picture herself mowing down the people she went to school with. Sure, she had wishes that she could do something like that from time to time when people annoyed her, but she never wanted to actually go out and do it. She wasn't a serial killer or anything like that. She did like creepy things from time to time, she admit, but shooting people wasn't one of those creepy things she liked.
Absentmindedly rubbing her aching wrists, she continued staring at the ceiling. Maybe she could... just not think about it? Sure.
Besides. That drunk chick was asking for it. She was threatening her! What was Kami supposed to do, just stand there as Ms. I-Fought-John-Ferrari-And-Eat-People-For-Breakfast killed her and took her gun? Never! It was kill-or-be-killed here.
And she said she'd play, right? She'd play and kill everyone here. It was morally acceptable, right? No one was looking down on her for defending herself. Self-defense. That was what it was. And once she got home? She had reminded herself that once she got home, she was going to be seen as an old war hero, not some sort of psycho. Yes! She'd be like some decorated war hero! They'd see her as a survivor and someone doing a service for her country! It wasn't anything bad, it was something encouraged! She had to play the game.
And thus, Kami had deluded herself further into thinking she was doing the right thing. It was, of course, natural here.
For now, though, she would rest. Hopefully some kid didn't come in and get her while she was resting. But, Kami took out her gun and placed it next to herself. There! Safe again. It hurt like fuck the last time she shot it, but hopefully she would be left alone for the time being.
Cell Block Tango
Moderator: Sh4dE
((Rena Bellaire continued from Mark It Up))
Rena Bellaire found herself looking at yet another building. Of course, that wasn't saying much. This place was nothing but buildings. No grass, no trees, nothing but concrete and buildings. It was all rather depressing really. She always hoped she was going to die somewhere a bit more... picturesque. Maybe a field of flowers, or in a dense forest. Or hell, in a hospital bed when she was 90 and surrounded by those she loved. None of that was going to happen now. Well, unless she somehow survived. Not likely though.
Back to the building. This one for some reason seemed more.... ominous than the others. Rena didn't quite know why, but it seemed to give off a grim aura. Her mind was screaming at her to avoid it, and yet she felt herself moving toward it. Her hands shakily grasped her gun, the one source of comfort she had left in this place, as she slowly entered the building.
It appeared to be a prison of some form. For some reason, Rena didn't think of the fact that a place like this might require a prison, but reflecting on what she had seen, she wasn't overly surprised. Guess they needed somewhere to keep the unruly ones. Rows upon rows of cells lined the hallways. The girl took a few steps into the building, holding her breath and trying to be as quiet as possible.
Her bag had other things on it's mind.
There was a loud clang as one of the fastenings on the side swung errantly with her steps, hitting the metal bars of the cell beside her. Rena flinched, instinctively clasping her hand over her mouth. She hoped that there was no one in this place, or else she would be in big trouble.
Rena Bellaire found herself looking at yet another building. Of course, that wasn't saying much. This place was nothing but buildings. No grass, no trees, nothing but concrete and buildings. It was all rather depressing really. She always hoped she was going to die somewhere a bit more... picturesque. Maybe a field of flowers, or in a dense forest. Or hell, in a hospital bed when she was 90 and surrounded by those she loved. None of that was going to happen now. Well, unless she somehow survived. Not likely though.
Back to the building. This one for some reason seemed more.... ominous than the others. Rena didn't quite know why, but it seemed to give off a grim aura. Her mind was screaming at her to avoid it, and yet she felt herself moving toward it. Her hands shakily grasped her gun, the one source of comfort she had left in this place, as she slowly entered the building.
It appeared to be a prison of some form. For some reason, Rena didn't think of the fact that a place like this might require a prison, but reflecting on what she had seen, she wasn't overly surprised. Guess they needed somewhere to keep the unruly ones. Rows upon rows of cells lined the hallways. The girl took a few steps into the building, holding her breath and trying to be as quiet as possible.
Her bag had other things on it's mind.
There was a loud clang as one of the fastenings on the side swung errantly with her steps, hitting the metal bars of the cell beside her. Rena flinched, instinctively clasping her hand over her mouth. She hoped that there was no one in this place, or else she would be in big trouble.
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Kami woke up with a start.
God damn it, now what?
Quickly grabbing her gun, Kami leaped out of the bed and stepped towards the cell's exit.
A girl. No, not Annoying Girl or Drunk Girl back from the dead. A different girl this time. Who? Damn, a girl she vaguely recognized, but did not flat-out know. As always. Nothing particularly notable about her either. She looked somewhat... generic. White shirt, jeans, black-and-white headband.
Damn it! Her too? How many people was she going to run into here? Just how many? There were around 50, right? Well, it would figure at least one of those 50 would happily enter her new shelter and make noise, and most likely attack her. Of course she would attack her.
She... she was going to have to fight again, wasn't she? Well, of course she was. Someone had wandered in and was doing god knows what and most likely had a weapon that wasn't a hairbrush and would do something that she wouldn't like and... and...
Kami pointed her gun towards the girl and shouted.
"Hey person! What... what are you doing?!"
And suddenly, her throat tightened again. Oh hell. This all over again. Well, she had said she was going to play, right? She had to shoot this girl if she had to live. Just shoot her. It was hard to do, but she could... she could do it right? It wasn't hard. She did it once before. Shot that drunk girl. Shot that drunk girl who fought Ferrari man who had the largest gun here or something. See? Easy. Easy easy.
If only she could breathe properly, though.
God damn it, now what?
Quickly grabbing her gun, Kami leaped out of the bed and stepped towards the cell's exit.
A girl. No, not Annoying Girl or Drunk Girl back from the dead. A different girl this time. Who? Damn, a girl she vaguely recognized, but did not flat-out know. As always. Nothing particularly notable about her either. She looked somewhat... generic. White shirt, jeans, black-and-white headband.
Damn it! Her too? How many people was she going to run into here? Just how many? There were around 50, right? Well, it would figure at least one of those 50 would happily enter her new shelter and make noise, and most likely attack her. Of course she would attack her.
She... she was going to have to fight again, wasn't she? Well, of course she was. Someone had wandered in and was doing god knows what and most likely had a weapon that wasn't a hairbrush and would do something that she wouldn't like and... and...
Kami pointed her gun towards the girl and shouted.
"Hey person! What... what are you doing?!"
And suddenly, her throat tightened again. Oh hell. This all over again. Well, she had said she was going to play, right? She had to shoot this girl if she had to live. Just shoot her. It was hard to do, but she could... she could do it right? It wasn't hard. She did it once before. Shot that drunk girl. Shot that drunk girl who fought Ferrari man who had the largest gun here or something. See? Easy. Easy easy.
If only she could breathe properly, though.
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
((Abby Erickson continued from Mark it Up))
"God damn it!"
It was growing so frustrating she almost wanted to scream. She'd been thinking that thought a lot as of late There was absolutely nothing. Not a blade of grass, not a comforting noise. Only fear and silence, punctuated by the occasional gunshot in the distance. At least, she was fairly certain they were gunshots. Abby had never heard a gun fire close by, but she figured it was similar to how it was in the movies, only far deadlier. No ten minute speeches on virtue and comradeship, just pain and blood and the pissing of ones pants.
Abby had come up empty in terms of a plan.
That sounds too nice. I've come up with jackshit is what I should say.
As she trudged around the back of what she could only assume was another storage building of some kind, Abby put her head in her hands and stumbled around in a circle.
"Oh God. I'm talking to myself again. I'm swearing at nothing, like some pissed off 12 year old who just got killed in a video game. I've got no idea, no clue. Absolutely nothing. Nothing, no plan, just been running and hiding, and screaming like a little girl where appropriate. And I'm going crazy too. Fuckin' God. Fuckin' fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."
With a sigh Abby leaned against the side of the building sinking down into a heap on the ground. For what seemed like the billionth time she scratched dirt from her gloves, keeping one eye open for any possible sneak attacks.
"I'm just going in circles. I've done all of this before, and I keep thinking if I come back to it I'll get it done different. When did the rat ever win on this type of show? I'd still have to kill someone, even if I sneak around until the end. And I've got nothing in my head, absolutely no songs. I'm probably riding a strong 0.something in the popularity polls." She muttered to herself, huddled down on the ground.
Oh Goddd... this sucks. I need to sleep or I'm going to start hallucinating.
Abby looked up, glancing around the area. She'd slept little since her arrival, always scared she'd be found and caught unawares. It would be a stupid way to die, and with her luck it would be some rapist boy who'd stumble upon her. Her fear of that was what had kept her motivated, and kept her hammer close at hand. Still, no matter how appealing the notion of breaking a rapist's dick in half was, sticking silently to the shadows was far better in the long run.
Don't want to get on the announcements. I wonder how many are dead now? Do I even know any of these people? I guess it was a good thing, being ostracized. Less emotional turmoil over the death of pricks and racists. And they wouldn't put Alex in the game, not with me. Ratings ploy, but it's not just about the ratings. This show is about control. And fear.
She knew fear well. With another sigh Abby rose to her feet, readjusting her bag. She was starving, aching from the constant paranoia.
Guess I could see what's in here. A safe place, if only for the time being...
Turning the corner however, her heart slammed to a halt. Noise. People. Weapons. Threats.
"Ffffff-" As quick as the last time, Abby scrambled back around the corner.
She hadn't been spotted. Another lucky break. Craning her neck she listened. A voice... familiar. Did she know her from somewhere? Abby was never good with her memory. Had they shared a class, the bus?
It didn't matter. All that mattered was quiet. Abby began to clean her bright blue gloves, coated in dirt from God knew where...
"God damn it!"
It was growing so frustrating she almost wanted to scream. She'd been thinking that thought a lot as of late There was absolutely nothing. Not a blade of grass, not a comforting noise. Only fear and silence, punctuated by the occasional gunshot in the distance. At least, she was fairly certain they were gunshots. Abby had never heard a gun fire close by, but she figured it was similar to how it was in the movies, only far deadlier. No ten minute speeches on virtue and comradeship, just pain and blood and the pissing of ones pants.
Abby had come up empty in terms of a plan.
That sounds too nice. I've come up with jackshit is what I should say.
As she trudged around the back of what she could only assume was another storage building of some kind, Abby put her head in her hands and stumbled around in a circle.
"Oh God. I'm talking to myself again. I'm swearing at nothing, like some pissed off 12 year old who just got killed in a video game. I've got no idea, no clue. Absolutely nothing. Nothing, no plan, just been running and hiding, and screaming like a little girl where appropriate. And I'm going crazy too. Fuckin' God. Fuckin' fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."
With a sigh Abby leaned against the side of the building sinking down into a heap on the ground. For what seemed like the billionth time she scratched dirt from her gloves, keeping one eye open for any possible sneak attacks.
"I'm just going in circles. I've done all of this before, and I keep thinking if I come back to it I'll get it done different. When did the rat ever win on this type of show? I'd still have to kill someone, even if I sneak around until the end. And I've got nothing in my head, absolutely no songs. I'm probably riding a strong 0.something in the popularity polls." She muttered to herself, huddled down on the ground.
Oh Goddd... this sucks. I need to sleep or I'm going to start hallucinating.
Abby looked up, glancing around the area. She'd slept little since her arrival, always scared she'd be found and caught unawares. It would be a stupid way to die, and with her luck it would be some rapist boy who'd stumble upon her. Her fear of that was what had kept her motivated, and kept her hammer close at hand. Still, no matter how appealing the notion of breaking a rapist's dick in half was, sticking silently to the shadows was far better in the long run.
Don't want to get on the announcements. I wonder how many are dead now? Do I even know any of these people? I guess it was a good thing, being ostracized. Less emotional turmoil over the death of pricks and racists. And they wouldn't put Alex in the game, not with me. Ratings ploy, but it's not just about the ratings. This show is about control. And fear.
She knew fear well. With another sigh Abby rose to her feet, readjusting her bag. She was starving, aching from the constant paranoia.
Guess I could see what's in here. A safe place, if only for the time being...
Turning the corner however, her heart slammed to a halt. Noise. People. Weapons. Threats.
"Ffffff-" As quick as the last time, Abby scrambled back around the corner.
She hadn't been spotted. Another lucky break. Craning her neck she listened. A voice... familiar. Did she know her from somewhere? Abby was never good with her memory. Had they shared a class, the bus?
It didn't matter. All that mattered was quiet. Abby began to clean her bright blue gloves, coated in dirt from God knew where...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Rena managed to wrestle her bag away from the metal bars, assuring herself that it wasn't going to cause her any more problems. Of course, she was already in a big problem as it was, assuming that there was anyone else here. The best she could do was hope no one was ther-
A voice rang out, and Rena knew she was caught. Looking up from her bag, she found herself looking at one of her classmates. A classmate with a gun. Bad news. Then again, she had a gun too, so maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Even still, her hand tightened it's grip around the weapon, feeling reassured with it in her grasp.
"I'm not going to hurt you!" Rena called out to the other girl, not daring to move too fast in case she decided she was a threat.
Of course, things never went the way things should go. Unfortunately for Rena, she forgot one important thing about guns. Guns have triggers. Triggers are generally easy to pull. At some point, Rena had placed a finger on the trigger.
A trigger which ended up being pulled.
A voice rang out, and Rena knew she was caught. Looking up from her bag, she found herself looking at one of her classmates. A classmate with a gun. Bad news. Then again, she had a gun too, so maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Even still, her hand tightened it's grip around the weapon, feeling reassured with it in her grasp.
"I'm not going to hurt you!" Rena called out to the other girl, not daring to move too fast in case she decided she was a threat.
Of course, things never went the way things should go. Unfortunately for Rena, she forgot one important thing about guns. Guns have triggers. Triggers are generally easy to pull. At some point, Rena had placed a finger on the trigger.
A trigger which ended up being pulled.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
Not going to hurt her, eh?
She seemed scared... of course she would be scared. Kami had just pulled a gun out on her. She had a gun, too. This one seemed bigger, but she wasn't going to try to compare them like how men compare penis sizes or something. Did she steal it from Ferrari man? Maybe she did. Or it was hers to begin with. Or someone else had it taken by her.
In any case, she had it. And that wasn't good.
She wasn't going to hurt her, though? That was probably a lie. She didn't look like the type to use it, but you never know. Kami didn't believe this girl for one second. Why would she? She had no reason to believe this girl wouldn't attack her. She could be putting on an act or something. That would be natural. She'd probably do the same if she had better social skills. But she didn't. And so she couldn't do anything like that.
And naturally, she was proven correct.
A gunshot cracked, and suddenly Kami found herself flinching. She just... fired that thing! That wasn't good. Oh dear. Thankfully, it had missed her, but only barely. Only barely. Maybe Annoying Girl was right when she said guns were hard to aim. But if she had only been about a foot to the right, then... she could have been shot. It had only been a matter of a foot, no, inches if she miscalculated, and...
Kami's throat began to tighten even further. Fuck. So this girl... this bitch... had shot at her. She just tried to kill her. Kami had only been fortunately enough that it had missed. She started to breathe heavily as her heart raced. Oh what the fuck. She wasn't going to live now. Nope. Because she was going to die. Going to get shot. She had a gun as well. She could play this game she wanted to play. She was going to lose horribly, though. Kami wasn't taking any chances this time. Not like what she did with Annoying Girl or Drunk Chick.
Her heart raced as she tried to point the gun back at the girl, her teeth starting to grit tightly. Her hands started to shake, both from anger and fear.
"BITCH!"
And fired back.
God fucking damn. When would she run into people who didn't want to kill her? She didn't want to kill again, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to defend herself and make it to the end! That's what you had to do here. Simple as that.
She seemed scared... of course she would be scared. Kami had just pulled a gun out on her. She had a gun, too. This one seemed bigger, but she wasn't going to try to compare them like how men compare penis sizes or something. Did she steal it from Ferrari man? Maybe she did. Or it was hers to begin with. Or someone else had it taken by her.
In any case, she had it. And that wasn't good.
She wasn't going to hurt her, though? That was probably a lie. She didn't look like the type to use it, but you never know. Kami didn't believe this girl for one second. Why would she? She had no reason to believe this girl wouldn't attack her. She could be putting on an act or something. That would be natural. She'd probably do the same if she had better social skills. But she didn't. And so she couldn't do anything like that.
And naturally, she was proven correct.
A gunshot cracked, and suddenly Kami found herself flinching. She just... fired that thing! That wasn't good. Oh dear. Thankfully, it had missed her, but only barely. Only barely. Maybe Annoying Girl was right when she said guns were hard to aim. But if she had only been about a foot to the right, then... she could have been shot. It had only been a matter of a foot, no, inches if she miscalculated, and...
Kami's throat began to tighten even further. Fuck. So this girl... this bitch... had shot at her. She just tried to kill her. Kami had only been fortunately enough that it had missed. She started to breathe heavily as her heart raced. Oh what the fuck. She wasn't going to live now. Nope. Because she was going to die. Going to get shot. She had a gun as well. She could play this game she wanted to play. She was going to lose horribly, though. Kami wasn't taking any chances this time. Not like what she did with Annoying Girl or Drunk Chick.
Her heart raced as she tried to point the gun back at the girl, her teeth starting to grit tightly. Her hands started to shake, both from anger and fear.
"BITCH!"
And fired back.
God fucking damn. When would she run into people who didn't want to kill her? She didn't want to kill again, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to defend herself and make it to the end! That's what you had to do here. Simple as that.
-
Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
The gunshot was louder then she could have imagined. It seemed to run through her body, from top to bottom like a particularly loud bass, bubbling her blood. The sheer utter panic she felt in those first few seconds was unlike anything she had ever experienced in her life. Her initial thoughts had been that the bullet had hit her. Even with no proof or rational reasoning to back it up, she could feel it- feel her blood leaking out of her, feel her vision dimming.
Oh God. Oh God, not yet, not yet!
In a blind panic, gibbering nonsense in terror she desperately dived downwards, covering her still ringing ears with her hands. It did little good. There was another shout, from the girl evidently inside. Then another explosion of sound. Abby screamed.
She was going to die. If not now, soon. Staying low wasn't going to work after all. She couldn't get her hands on a gun, let alone shoot one. She wasn't made for this. She was breathing far too fast. Far. Too. Fast.
I'm next. I'm next, then it's all over, then it's all black, never going to say bye to Alex, to Mom, to- to-
Oh God. Oh God, not yet, not yet!
In a blind panic, gibbering nonsense in terror she desperately dived downwards, covering her still ringing ears with her hands. It did little good. There was another shout, from the girl evidently inside. Then another explosion of sound. Abby screamed.
She was going to die. If not now, soon. Staying low wasn't going to work after all. She couldn't get her hands on a gun, let alone shoot one. She wasn't made for this. She was breathing far too fast. Far. Too. Fast.
I'm next. I'm next, then it's all over, then it's all black, never going to say bye to Alex, to Mom, to- to-
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Little Boy. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Rena flinched as her gun went off, closing her eyes and letting out a tiny yelp. She didn't mean to do it, and she was glad that she hadn't hit anyone. The other girl didn't look amused.
"I-I'm sorry..." Rena muttered, quiet enough that no one would have heard her. She kept repeating the phrase over and over, her entire body shaking from anxiety. Opening her eyes, they widened in shock at what she saw.
Next thing she knew, she was staring at the ceiling.
Rena didn't last for much longer after that. The bullet had hit her in the chest, hitting a lung and severing an artery connecting to her heart. The blood pooled on the ground, exiting her body from the two holes in her chest and back. There were no words, no feelings, no revelations.
She was just dead.
Female Student #7: Rena Bellaire, Deceased
"I-I'm sorry..." Rena muttered, quiet enough that no one would have heard her. She kept repeating the phrase over and over, her entire body shaking from anxiety. Opening her eyes, they widened in shock at what she saw.
Next thing she knew, she was staring at the ceiling.
Rena didn't last for much longer after that. The bullet had hit her in the chest, hitting a lung and severing an artery connecting to her heart. The blood pooled on the ground, exiting her body from the two holes in her chest and back. There were no words, no feelings, no revelations.
She was just dead.
Female Student #7: Rena Bellaire, Deceased
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Rocky.
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Little Boy*
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 5:35 am
WHUMP.
Abby looked, shivering and shaking from her spot against the wall. Something had fallen, something heavy. A terrible uneasy feeling gripped her as she looked towards the corner. It was silent again, if only for a moment.
This isn't good.
She knew in her gut what had happened. She was in The Program, it was foolish to block it out, to pretend it wasn't happening.
Someone's gone.
She couldn't resist. Slowly, as carefully and cautiously as she dared Abby inched forth, towards the corner. She had to see. Just to be sure, just to assure herself that it was real, that the game was real.
This is stupid Abby. Right now, Alex is watching with Mom, and they both think you're stupid.
But she didn't slow down. She just had to know. Finally she was there. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Abby put her back to the wall, nervously rubbing her gloved hands together.
Just a quick look. Just see who it is, then get out. It's stupid. But you know this feeling. You're going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don't. Shit. Okay. Okay...
Abby held her breath and angled her head around the corner.
Rena Bellaire lay in a growing puddle of her own blood. The girl wasn't moving. The girl wasn't doing anything. She was dead. Abby slowly let out her breath, and a peculiar relief began to flow through her.
It wasn't that the sight of the dead girl was bad. It was shocking, and Abby felt herself growing guilty at expressing any emotion other then sorrow. But she couldn't help it. It didn't look all that bad. There had been pain, of that Abby was sure. But Rena looked to be asleep. In the end, peaceful. And moreover, SHE felt peaceful. She hadn't puked, which was what she'd been expecting upon seeing the body. She hadn't expected the strange almost clinical detachment she was feeling. For a second, her fears were driven back. The Program suddenly started to lose its edge.
Even if I die, I'll just sleep. Look at it that way. Upside to everything Abby. You always liked to sleep in, didn't you?
She had to look away, mentally scolding herself for her thoughts. This wasn't how she was supposed to feel about the dead. It wasn't normal. She stared down at her blue gloves, coated in dirt.
Never been all that normal... Nearly halfway done now. If the announcements are any indication. Close calls aside, I'm not like Rena. Maybe I could win this. Maybe that's all it'll take, getting to the final four. Maybe they will let me live, if I kill the last one... Maybe I can do it, before something happens to me. Before I go crazy. Because I am going crazy. This game is doing it. I'm. Going. Crazy.
"Maybe..." She silently whispered to herself, inching back towards her pack. Abby bit her lip. She had to think, had to break herself out of this cycle, find a goal, something to work towards rather then hiding and sneaking. She wouldn't find it with Rena, and she certainly wouldn't find it with whoever was lurking nearby. Quickly she grabbed her things, shouldered her back and scurried off, towards the back of the building. Whoever had fired the gun had probably heard her shout in panic. They'd be looking for her.
Can't end up like Rena. Not yet. Not yet, definitely not yet...
It was strange, the disappearance of her fear. A part of her was disgusted with her trivialization of the girls demise. She'd gone to school with her, for several years now. They'd shared classes together, and now... now? She was dead. No one would write poems about it, or lament her for too long. Her family would move on eventually. Abby hadn't even remember she had been picked on announcement day. Then again, that day seemed so long ago she didn't remember any of it... Detachment is what she felt. She almost missed her fear.
At least that had been familiar territory for her.
((Abby Erickson continues in Actions Speak Louder Then Words))
Abby looked, shivering and shaking from her spot against the wall. Something had fallen, something heavy. A terrible uneasy feeling gripped her as she looked towards the corner. It was silent again, if only for a moment.
This isn't good.
She knew in her gut what had happened. She was in The Program, it was foolish to block it out, to pretend it wasn't happening.
Someone's gone.
She couldn't resist. Slowly, as carefully and cautiously as she dared Abby inched forth, towards the corner. She had to see. Just to be sure, just to assure herself that it was real, that the game was real.
This is stupid Abby. Right now, Alex is watching with Mom, and they both think you're stupid.
But she didn't slow down. She just had to know. Finally she was there. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Abby put her back to the wall, nervously rubbing her gloved hands together.
Just a quick look. Just see who it is, then get out. It's stupid. But you know this feeling. You're going to regret it if you do, regret it if you don't. Shit. Okay. Okay...
Abby held her breath and angled her head around the corner.
Rena Bellaire lay in a growing puddle of her own blood. The girl wasn't moving. The girl wasn't doing anything. She was dead. Abby slowly let out her breath, and a peculiar relief began to flow through her.
It wasn't that the sight of the dead girl was bad. It was shocking, and Abby felt herself growing guilty at expressing any emotion other then sorrow. But she couldn't help it. It didn't look all that bad. There had been pain, of that Abby was sure. But Rena looked to be asleep. In the end, peaceful. And moreover, SHE felt peaceful. She hadn't puked, which was what she'd been expecting upon seeing the body. She hadn't expected the strange almost clinical detachment she was feeling. For a second, her fears were driven back. The Program suddenly started to lose its edge.
Even if I die, I'll just sleep. Look at it that way. Upside to everything Abby. You always liked to sleep in, didn't you?
She had to look away, mentally scolding herself for her thoughts. This wasn't how she was supposed to feel about the dead. It wasn't normal. She stared down at her blue gloves, coated in dirt.
Never been all that normal... Nearly halfway done now. If the announcements are any indication. Close calls aside, I'm not like Rena. Maybe I could win this. Maybe that's all it'll take, getting to the final four. Maybe they will let me live, if I kill the last one... Maybe I can do it, before something happens to me. Before I go crazy. Because I am going crazy. This game is doing it. I'm. Going. Crazy.
"Maybe..." She silently whispered to herself, inching back towards her pack. Abby bit her lip. She had to think, had to break herself out of this cycle, find a goal, something to work towards rather then hiding and sneaking. She wouldn't find it with Rena, and she certainly wouldn't find it with whoever was lurking nearby. Quickly she grabbed her things, shouldered her back and scurried off, towards the back of the building. Whoever had fired the gun had probably heard her shout in panic. They'd be looking for her.
Can't end up like Rena. Not yet. Not yet, definitely not yet...
It was strange, the disappearance of her fear. A part of her was disgusted with her trivialization of the girls demise. She'd gone to school with her, for several years now. They'd shared classes together, and now... now? She was dead. No one would write poems about it, or lament her for too long. Her family would move on eventually. Abby hadn't even remember she had been picked on announcement day. Then again, that day seemed so long ago she didn't remember any of it... Detachment is what she felt. She almost missed her fear.
At least that had been familiar territory for her.
((Abby Erickson continues in Actions Speak Louder Then Words))
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She... she did it again.
She shot someone.
She killed someone.
Kami simply stared at what was left of the girl. Simply...
Stared.
And hurriedly she ran back into her cell.
Damn it! She had hurt someone again! This was the second time. She thought that this was going to be easy, but nope. It wasn't. Simply wasn't. Damn it. Killing was turning out to have a bit of a toll on her.
Kami plopped herself onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. Those girls... she had shot them. Kami knew she had to kill again, but... she couldn't help but feel ill. It didn't help that there was that smell of gunpowder combined with the smell of blood.
She didn't want to be here.
She didn't want to exist...
And suddenly, she blacked out. Or maybe fell asleep. She wasn't sure. But she woke up what seemed to be hours later, face still buried in the pillow.
She... might as well head out, then.
Kami picked up her things, and headed out of the cell, feeling unsteady. Taking a token glance at the girl, she quickly whipped her head away.
She didn't want to dwell on it, but she had to survive.
((Kami Steele continued in Hell On Bare Feet))
She shot someone.
She killed someone.
Kami simply stared at what was left of the girl. Simply...
Stared.
And hurriedly she ran back into her cell.
Damn it! She had hurt someone again! This was the second time. She thought that this was going to be easy, but nope. It wasn't. Simply wasn't. Damn it. Killing was turning out to have a bit of a toll on her.
Kami plopped herself onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow. Those girls... she had shot them. Kami knew she had to kill again, but... she couldn't help but feel ill. It didn't help that there was that smell of gunpowder combined with the smell of blood.
She didn't want to be here.
She didn't want to exist...
And suddenly, she blacked out. Or maybe fell asleep. She wasn't sure. But she woke up what seemed to be hours later, face still buried in the pillow.
She... might as well head out, then.
Kami picked up her things, and headed out of the cell, feeling unsteady. Taking a token glance at the girl, she quickly whipped her head away.
She didn't want to dwell on it, but she had to survive.
((Kami Steele continued in Hell On Bare Feet))