The Seagull

[Irina Ivanov]

She did it! Molly did it!

Molly looked down at the body, Nastya's head cracked open with everything draining out of it. Like an egg cracking open, and its lovely, vibrant yolk spilling all over the floor. She was breathing heavily, doing that was no small feat. She had just...Molly frowned for a moment. It felt kind of strange. It didn't feel like she was the one who had managed to not only knock a gun away with all her force, but then use up what was left of her strength to finish someone off. But she did do that. She must have!

Molly, seeing what she had done, started smiling at the eternally stoic-faced Nastya. She killed a thing, and that must be impressive. It WAS impressive, since Molly couldn't feel anything at all! She didn't feel tired, and she didn't feel any guilt, or any pain either. Molly looked at her bloodied hands, fixed with both hers and Nastya, and began laughing, if one could call shaken, uncontrollable breathing that. Right, she had killed someone, and she was about to...

Deep breath. Molly felt some clarity begin to return to her, and that made sense. She couldn't keep staring at a corpse all day, or being this out of sorts. Molly looked down past her bloodied sledgehammer, and stepped away from the body. It was as if Nastya's body was infected or something with some kind of filth, and even though Molly knew that (probably) wasn't true, she stepped away in disgust anyways. She already had enough rotting seagull flesh embedded in her soles for that.

Molly took another deep breath, and began to calm down. Now. Phoebe. Molly turned to her, and intentionally started walking going for her. Now that she was a killer, she didn't need to hold back. Killing was...easy. With a simple flick of the wrist, people were gone. If that's all it takes, then...she didn't need to care, right? If people who were lost was lost so easily to even a simple action, then Molly didn't need to care! She stepped forwards and-


Dropped to the ground next to Nastya with a hideous scream. The sledgehammer she intended to use again crashed on the ground, as Molly clutched her stomach wound with both her hands while falling down. Adrenaline had finally given way, and what took its place was cruel, painful reality.

Still screaming to the point her vocal chords began to give way, Molly started wriggling and twisting on the floor. It hurt, so much, that Molly's body started convulsing into positions she didn't even know she could do, and never want to do. With every involuntary twitch of the body, Molly felt the burning sensation in her stomach even more worse. Every little movement, every scream that rocked her body, Molly felt like someone who igniting a new flame in her stomach.

"IT HUR- STOP! I CAN'T-"

Molly's screams and cries were only drowned out by the emergence of a new thing in her mouth. Molly began to vomit from the pain, giving her broken up vocal cords a rest. She tried to stop twitching, but she couldn't! She would take anything, ANYTHING! She just wanted this to STOP! Molly pathetically reached and grabbed around for something to stop the pain, but she couldn't even think at this point. She couldn't move, she was just trying to reach out to some useless hope.

"...Pho...EBE! HEL...P ME!- PLease...I..."

Molly wildly looked around, for something to help her. Her body, while failing slowly, was still fully feeling the pain, so if she didn't-

She found it. The way to stop it. That rifle. Nastya's...rifle. It's so far away. Still she had to! Molly turned her body around, feeling her shot stomach start to regurgitate its contents out. And not just through her mouth either, Molly pitifully reached out to the far away gun that she would be never able to reach.

Molly, despite, kept wildly trying to reach out with her hands. She even began to lift her body up just to grab that rifle and stop the pain. As soon as she got up, she fell back down in her gasp, collapsing right on her side. She gave one last, faint moan, then then was silent.

She couldn't reach it. Molly's arm gave out, she couldn't move anymore. The pain was still bad, but it just...her body gave out.

She couldn't talk. She couldn't scream. She couldn't move a centrimetre torwards the gun. She couldn't even finish her thoughts.

Molly just lay there alone with her rapidly bleeding out stomach that caused such a painful sensation. She wanted to cry out in pain, but she couldn't even do that.

Molly could only look at the still face of Nastya a very short distance besides her. Molly's teary, drowsy eyes stared into Nastya's glassy, lifeless eyes. She could have sworn her eyes were reflected back to her. Despite herself, Molly felt cool tears come out of her eyes, turning red as it mixed with blood.

She really was just so pathetic, wasn't she?

Why did she ever think she deserved to go home more then this lifeless corpse she made herself? The world would just go on without her, just another student lost to the Yanks. Even though Molly kept reassuring herself with 'surely's, and 'must be's earlier, she didn't need to this time.

She knew that was true without reassurance.

At least the pain was starting to stop.

Molly saw her own eyes dim in Nastya's glassy, dead eyes.

There was no last words, no cries for survival. What was a girl falsely determined to survive, was now just a speechless corpse lying besides another one.

F13 - Molly McKenzie - Deceased

[KamiKaze]

And for a moment, Phoebe just stood there.

Just stood.

The bees still hummed and buzzed from inside her jar. She'd pulled it out when Nastasia and Molly scuffled. Scuffled? No. Seemed too... delicate. Same goes with “fought.” She wasn't sure what she was going to do with them, but it was her best defense, her best way of fighting back.

It felt like a space of a second, but soon enough, Nastasia fell to the ground. And before Phoebe could properly react, Molly turned her gaze.

Stomped forward.

And Phoebe kept her grip on those bees.

But then, Molly fell.

She screamed. She begged. Phoebe had looked to Nastasia, still unmoving. Back to Molly, screaming. Towards the first aid kit, right where she left it. Her gaze landed for a few seconds, but once she took a step forward, the screams stopped.

And that's when Phoebe knew she was alone, holding a jar of bees in one hand and the first aid kit in another.

A sob filled the room.

((Phoebe Quincey continued elsewhere))