((Marcus Redder continued from Good Morning, Goodbye, Good Luck))
The world was in blackness.
Marcus sat cross-legged in one of the building’s offices, eyes clenched tightly shut as he tried to will away the world around him. The crash of the door as he’d flung it open and slammed it shut still reverberated around him even half an hour afterwards, as if the noise was lodged deeply and permanently within his eardrums.
The calm serenity that’d accompanied his departure of the Aqua Museum steadily dissipated throughout the day, and by the time dusk was approaching the resort his initial panic had returned in full force. Ever since Vahka had left him broken and bruised upon the museum floor, he’d tried to remain as hidden as he could, flitting between areas and bolting from them as soon as he heard any noise or sign of other people. He was completely petrified of interacting with anybody else, terrified of them betraying him in the same way Vahka had. The faint loneliness and desire for company was gone, replaced by a storm of fear and paranoia that rampaged its way through him without any sign of abating.
By the time he’d reached the Sports Centre the sun was setting warmly on the horizon and the further exhaustion he’d accumulated throughout the day had made itself known once more, causing him to dart into the nearest building and take refuge in as enclosed a space as he could find. He’d done the very best he could for his injured hand as soon as he’d entered the cluttered office, having ripped one of his provided shirts in half and tightly wrapped the two strips of tattered fabric around it. It’d done little to numb the needles of pain that continued to prickle within it, but it’d have to do before he could find some more supplies and apply gauze or disinfectant to the wound. At the very least he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping it elevated or avoiding touching it against anything.
With fear rooting him to the spot and with only the pain and paranoia for company, Marcus tried to think of happier times, times he’d spent with his friends and family. He tried to remember helping his mother with cooking; taking financial lessons from his father; movie marathons with Elena; applauding Isolde at one of her concerts; reading Florian and Fiona bedtime stories; soccer matches, study meetings, cooking club... but none of it worked. No matter how hard he tried, there was nothing left to distract him from the reality of what’d happened and was happening around him.
There was no more optimism, no more chances of everything possibly turning out alright, not anymore. He tried to fight back the tears that threatened to leak forth, but it was useless. No matter how hard he tried, there was no stopping the warm droplets as they ran trails down his face and fell softly onto the plush carpet beneath him, the only sound in the area aside from his uneven breathing as he tried to remain as calm as he could and tried to think about what to do next in spite of his forever mounting fear.
His eyes flickered upon after awhile, and instantly locked with one of the multitude of cameras mounted in the room.
“Papa, mama... What’s going to happen to me?”
Shaken, Not Stirred
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SansaSaver
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[Eden Zahn, continued from Tales to Tell.]
Eden nervously paced down the hallways, her feet pounding against the floor in time with the marching-drum rhythm of her heart. Part of her was still unwilling to accept that Sarah was gone- and probably for good. Eden wanted to believe that she could still find Sarah. She still found it difficult to shake the doubt in the back of her mind that Sarah was already dead, already killed by the other school, and that it was her fault. Eden squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. It didn't bear thinking about. Eden tried to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind as quickly as possible. She wasn't losing a single one of her friends to a bloodsport.
This would be a great place to film, she thought.
The sports center was a tacky kind of creepy, somewhere between a surreal Burger King commercial and a Jhonen Vasquez cartoon. Eden had scouted similar locations when she was filming her web series. It felt familiar and comforting to think about her YouTube videos. Eden was on the wrong side of the camera this time, but all she needed to make a killer Found Footage movie on the island was a Handycam and a Slenderman prop. She started planning which of the cameras she could use, how she could best use the design of the building to obscure the monster from the audience. Eden smiled as she mapped it all out in her head.
It was a shame it would never make it to cinemas. Even when she got everyone out of this game, they probably wouldn't let her use the location.
Eden heard a noise from one of the offices and rushed to investigate. She turned the handle and pushed open the door. Marcus Redder was curled up in a ball on the floor. Eden could see that his hand was a mangled mess. Probably one of the other-school kids. No one Eden knew could do something like that.
“Marcus?” Eden asked. “Marcus, it's me. It's Eden.”
Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
Eden nervously paced down the hallways, her feet pounding against the floor in time with the marching-drum rhythm of her heart. Part of her was still unwilling to accept that Sarah was gone- and probably for good. Eden wanted to believe that she could still find Sarah. She still found it difficult to shake the doubt in the back of her mind that Sarah was already dead, already killed by the other school, and that it was her fault. Eden squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. It didn't bear thinking about. Eden tried to shove those thoughts to the back of her mind as quickly as possible. She wasn't losing a single one of her friends to a bloodsport.
This would be a great place to film, she thought.
The sports center was a tacky kind of creepy, somewhere between a surreal Burger King commercial and a Jhonen Vasquez cartoon. Eden had scouted similar locations when she was filming her web series. It felt familiar and comforting to think about her YouTube videos. Eden was on the wrong side of the camera this time, but all she needed to make a killer Found Footage movie on the island was a Handycam and a Slenderman prop. She started planning which of the cameras she could use, how she could best use the design of the building to obscure the monster from the audience. Eden smiled as she mapped it all out in her head.
It was a shame it would never make it to cinemas. Even when she got everyone out of this game, they probably wouldn't let her use the location.
Eden heard a noise from one of the offices and rushed to investigate. She turned the handle and pushed open the door. Marcus Redder was curled up in a ball on the floor. Eden could see that his hand was a mangled mess. Probably one of the other-school kids. No one Eden knew could do something like that.
“Marcus?” Eden asked. “Marcus, it's me. It's Eden.”
Everything was going to be okay. It had to be.
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SansaSaver
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Some part of Marcus’s consciousness expected a reply, expected some familiar word of comfort from his parents, expected something for him to latch onto.
But there was nothing.
Nothing until he heard a set of soft footfalls from the hallway beyond and the creak of the office’s door handle as it was opened. He quickly whirled around to catch sight of the new arrival, curling into himself as he laid sight upon Eden Zahn. She was a sweet girl - friendly, arty, sporty - and while they hadn’t been incredibly close back in Whittree he’d always appreciated her enthusiasm and involvement at school. He almost sighed in relief upon finding a friendly face, one that didn’t immediately invoke fear or unease, but his breath hitched in his throat and his heart began to race regardless. He’d thought the exact same thing about Vahka, and what was to say she wasn’t anything like him? What was to say she wouldn’t hurt or betray him in the same way he had?
He shot up from his position on the floor as she spoke and darted backwards in a sudden burst of panic that disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. He violently banged against the cluttered desk that was positioned against the wall - having paid no attention to his surroundings in his haste. The collision sent the contents of the desk - a bundle of loose paper, stationary, cutlery, and the like - falling to the floor, a glass tumbler shattering against the mess now scattered beneath his feet. Eden’s voice was muffled beneath the heaviness of his breathing and the pace of his heartbeat and the lingering sound of his collision, but even so, he made out her words; a casual greeting, as though they were talking in passing at school. It sounded so normal, as if there was some way they could return back to how they’d been before, before their world had been inverted in on itself.
Marcus might’ve been naïve once, a long time ago, but not anymore. He knew there was no going back for neither he nor Eden, nor anybody else they’d be placed here with. Even if he somehow survived, what’d happened to him would still remain imprinted in his memory. He wouldn’t be able to go back to normal conversations or casual chatter, wouldn’t be able to remain blissfully ignorant of the violence and cruelty that people could exhibit, wouldn’t be able to trust anybody. Not now.
“E-Eden?” He whispered, pulling himself up into a standing position, hair hanging limply in his face and legs shaking as his heartbeat continued to thump violently. He trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say or any way of continuing their conversation, not beyond the noises that echoed in his mind and the pain in his hand and his continually escalating panic and fear.
Things would never be okay again.
He just hoped Eden knew that.
But there was nothing.
Nothing until he heard a set of soft footfalls from the hallway beyond and the creak of the office’s door handle as it was opened. He quickly whirled around to catch sight of the new arrival, curling into himself as he laid sight upon Eden Zahn. She was a sweet girl - friendly, arty, sporty - and while they hadn’t been incredibly close back in Whittree he’d always appreciated her enthusiasm and involvement at school. He almost sighed in relief upon finding a friendly face, one that didn’t immediately invoke fear or unease, but his breath hitched in his throat and his heart began to race regardless. He’d thought the exact same thing about Vahka, and what was to say she wasn’t anything like him? What was to say she wouldn’t hurt or betray him in the same way he had?
He shot up from his position on the floor as she spoke and darted backwards in a sudden burst of panic that disappeared almost as soon as it arrived. He violently banged against the cluttered desk that was positioned against the wall - having paid no attention to his surroundings in his haste. The collision sent the contents of the desk - a bundle of loose paper, stationary, cutlery, and the like - falling to the floor, a glass tumbler shattering against the mess now scattered beneath his feet. Eden’s voice was muffled beneath the heaviness of his breathing and the pace of his heartbeat and the lingering sound of his collision, but even so, he made out her words; a casual greeting, as though they were talking in passing at school. It sounded so normal, as if there was some way they could return back to how they’d been before, before their world had been inverted in on itself.
Marcus might’ve been naïve once, a long time ago, but not anymore. He knew there was no going back for neither he nor Eden, nor anybody else they’d be placed here with. Even if he somehow survived, what’d happened to him would still remain imprinted in his memory. He wouldn’t be able to go back to normal conversations or casual chatter, wouldn’t be able to remain blissfully ignorant of the violence and cruelty that people could exhibit, wouldn’t be able to trust anybody. Not now.
“E-Eden?” He whispered, pulling himself up into a standing position, hair hanging limply in his face and legs shaking as his heartbeat continued to thump violently. He trailed off, unable to think of anything else to say or any way of continuing their conversation, not beyond the noises that echoed in his mind and the pain in his hand and his continually escalating panic and fear.
Things would never be okay again.
He just hoped Eden knew that.
Eden scrambled across the office and knelt down beside Marcus. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was shaken, but alive.
One less friend to worry about.
“Marcus”, Eden spoke in hushed tones. Maybe the microphones in the cameras and the collars wouldn't pick her up that way. “Listen, this is all just some massive ratings stunt, right? What if we just... stopped fighting? If we give them no reason to watch us, they'll have no choice but to let us go. If we all band together, we can get out of this alive.”
She smiled.
“I'm not going to lose a single friend to this fucking bloodsport.” Eden asserted, her voice still hushed. “We can save everyone. I know it.”
The words sounded stupid when she said them out loud. Eden guessed that was kind of the point.
One less friend to worry about.
“Marcus”, Eden spoke in hushed tones. Maybe the microphones in the cameras and the collars wouldn't pick her up that way. “Listen, this is all just some massive ratings stunt, right? What if we just... stopped fighting? If we give them no reason to watch us, they'll have no choice but to let us go. If we all band together, we can get out of this alive.”
She smiled.
“I'm not going to lose a single friend to this fucking bloodsport.” Eden asserted, her voice still hushed. “We can save everyone. I know it.”
The words sounded stupid when she said them out loud. Eden guessed that was kind of the point.
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SansaSaver
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Stop fighting?
Save everybody?
A day ago, Marcus would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with Eden’s ideals, would’ve been one of the first to jump in line and go along with whatever plan she’d devised.
But not now.
Now, her words caused him nothing but incredulity and disbelief, as he struggled to adequately comprehend what she was saying. Did Eden really still believe in the goodness of her classmates? Had she not had her optimism - the same optimism he himself had once openly exhibited - completely shattered? A day ago, Marcus would’ve appreciated finding someone who was just as idealistic as him. But now, after everything that’d happened, hearing someone spouting off such naïve rhetoric filled him with nothing but a sense of so many emotions: dread, fear, pity. Jealousy.
She was still so ignorant of everything, just like he’d been until Vahka had changed everything.
She’d be hurt, just like he had.
Someone would break her.
Just like everyone else.
The thought hit Marcus like a speeding bullet and left him filled with nausea in its wake. He’d been so wrapped up in his own situation, so concerned with relieving his pain and trying to maintain some grip onto his sanity, that he’d almost forgotten about his friends, about those who’d also be suffering and dying; Dougie, Regina, Bunny, Tucker and Paisley... they’d all suffer and die. His heartbeat began to quicken again, chest rising visibly and breath growing heavy in his throat as his anxieties and fear returned, sneaking in unheralded as he reassessed his situation once more.
He hadn’t been prepared for what had happened to him, but the least he could do was warn Eden ahead of time, tell her what was awaiting her in this place - as horrible as the thought was. He didn’t want to break her optimism, didn’t want to hurt her in anyway, but it was the most he could do for her, now. It’d be better in the long run; this way she could be prepared, would be able to avoid having what Vahka had done to him happen to her, wouldn’t be betrayed like he had.
“No,” he whispered quietly, meeting her eyes through the gap in his messy fringe. “That won’t happen. They’ll hurt you, Eden. Just like they hurt me.”
He gestured towards his haphazardly bandaged hand, wincing slightly as a needle of pain shot through it.
“Vahka did this...” He paused, swallowing back as he tried to breathe properly in spite of the tightness in his lungs. “I thought everything would be alright, just like you, but it won’t be. Nothing’s going to be okay, not anymore.”
He hoped she believed him.
For her own good.
Save everybody?
A day ago, Marcus would’ve agreed wholeheartedly with Eden’s ideals, would’ve been one of the first to jump in line and go along with whatever plan she’d devised.
But not now.
Now, her words caused him nothing but incredulity and disbelief, as he struggled to adequately comprehend what she was saying. Did Eden really still believe in the goodness of her classmates? Had she not had her optimism - the same optimism he himself had once openly exhibited - completely shattered? A day ago, Marcus would’ve appreciated finding someone who was just as idealistic as him. But now, after everything that’d happened, hearing someone spouting off such naïve rhetoric filled him with nothing but a sense of so many emotions: dread, fear, pity. Jealousy.
She was still so ignorant of everything, just like he’d been until Vahka had changed everything.
She’d be hurt, just like he had.
Someone would break her.
Just like everyone else.
The thought hit Marcus like a speeding bullet and left him filled with nausea in its wake. He’d been so wrapped up in his own situation, so concerned with relieving his pain and trying to maintain some grip onto his sanity, that he’d almost forgotten about his friends, about those who’d also be suffering and dying; Dougie, Regina, Bunny, Tucker and Paisley... they’d all suffer and die. His heartbeat began to quicken again, chest rising visibly and breath growing heavy in his throat as his anxieties and fear returned, sneaking in unheralded as he reassessed his situation once more.
He hadn’t been prepared for what had happened to him, but the least he could do was warn Eden ahead of time, tell her what was awaiting her in this place - as horrible as the thought was. He didn’t want to break her optimism, didn’t want to hurt her in anyway, but it was the most he could do for her, now. It’d be better in the long run; this way she could be prepared, would be able to avoid having what Vahka had done to him happen to her, wouldn’t be betrayed like he had.
“No,” he whispered quietly, meeting her eyes through the gap in his messy fringe. “That won’t happen. They’ll hurt you, Eden. Just like they hurt me.”
He gestured towards his haphazardly bandaged hand, wincing slightly as a needle of pain shot through it.
“Vahka did this...” He paused, swallowing back as he tried to breathe properly in spite of the tightness in his lungs. “I thought everything would be alright, just like you, but it won’t be. Nothing’s going to be okay, not anymore.”
He hoped she believed him.
For her own good.
“So what, you're just gonna give up?” Eden asked, somewhat defensively. “Just let our friends kill each other because some douchebag suits with marketing degrees put guns in our hands and strapped collars around our necks?
Eden shook her head. This couldn't be happening. Marcus couldn't really believe this. This had to be a show for the cameras, a staged drama.
Eden refused to believe that anyone could have given up this easily.
“Marcus, listen to me,” Eden said. “If you help me with this... if we can get everyone in one place, refusing to play their game, then there's no way-- they'll have to stop the game. They'll have to let us go.”
Eden shook her head. This couldn't be happening. Marcus couldn't really believe this. This had to be a show for the cameras, a staged drama.
Eden refused to believe that anyone could have given up this easily.
“Marcus, listen to me,” Eden said. “If you help me with this... if we can get everyone in one place, refusing to play their game, then there's no way-- they'll have to stop the game. They'll have to let us go.”
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SansaSaver
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Marcus’s near-dull expression was wiped almost completely clean as Eden continued to speak, instead replaced by a furrowed brow and eyes narrowed in anger.
She didn’t believe him.
She still thought they’d be alright.
He wanted her to be quiet, wanted her to stop talking, because he knew that if she kept talking, then that part of him that wanted to regain hope and find some way out of here would return from where he’d buried it and latch onto her beliefs. And then the cycle would begin anew and he’d be hurt again and again and again.
He didn’t want that to happen.
He’d do everything in his power to stop that happening to him again.
And yet she continued talking, continued to reiterate the goodness of their classmates and the possibility of escape, not listening to his warning - to the very proof he bore in the form of his mangled hand. Her words grew muffled after awhile, becoming enveloped by the drumming of his heartbeat and the shortness and shallowness of his breath. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will Eden away, trying to will her to just shut up.
Marcus’s eyes shot upon once more, his mind blank aside from one goal: making her shut up, making her stop talking, making her stop being so fucking naïve. His athleticism proved him in good stead as he grabbed a sliver of glass from the pile of debris with his good hand and lunged towards her, before roughly planting the shard directly into her neck, sending them both violently crashing to the floor in a clamorous bang.
There was a brief pause, a reprieve as he saw the dark-red blood rapidly pool around the wound and spill over onto the carpet. His hesitation lasted for all of half a second; though it seemed like an hour, as though time itself had been stretched out to a painful degree. Marcus was far from an expert when it came to injuries, but he knew that there was no coming back, not from what he’d done to her.
He’d hurt her, betrayed her, just like he’d wanted so desperately to avoid.
It was then that he stopped thinking.
He didn’t think as he pulled the glass from her throat and plunged it haphazardly into her neck again and again, no method or rationalisation behind his actions aside from a fevered attempt to stop her moving, stop her suffering. His panicked screams mixed with her own death throes and the sharp unzipping of skin and the sound of blood sloshing onto the floor and over his hands and clothes, drenching the room in a flood of viscid scarlet. The tip of the glass quickly snapped away from itself, lodged deeply within the matted mess of Eden Zahn’s throat. The scent of bitter copper filled the air, causing bile to rise in his throat and his mind to grow even more clouded.
Eventually her movements slowed beneath him before halting altogether, and Marcus collapsed onto the ground beside her motionless form, breath harried and strained as he struggled to reintroduce air into his lungs. He quickly rolled onto his side and locked his vision onto Eden’s body, eyes widened as he found himself unable to look away from what he’d done.
She didn’t believe him.
She still thought they’d be alright.
He wanted her to be quiet, wanted her to stop talking, because he knew that if she kept talking, then that part of him that wanted to regain hope and find some way out of here would return from where he’d buried it and latch onto her beliefs. And then the cycle would begin anew and he’d be hurt again and again and again.
He didn’t want that to happen.
He’d do everything in his power to stop that happening to him again.
And yet she continued talking, continued to reiterate the goodness of their classmates and the possibility of escape, not listening to his warning - to the very proof he bore in the form of his mangled hand. Her words grew muffled after awhile, becoming enveloped by the drumming of his heartbeat and the shortness and shallowness of his breath. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to will Eden away, trying to will her to just shut up.
Marcus’s eyes shot upon once more, his mind blank aside from one goal: making her shut up, making her stop talking, making her stop being so fucking naïve. His athleticism proved him in good stead as he grabbed a sliver of glass from the pile of debris with his good hand and lunged towards her, before roughly planting the shard directly into her neck, sending them both violently crashing to the floor in a clamorous bang.
There was a brief pause, a reprieve as he saw the dark-red blood rapidly pool around the wound and spill over onto the carpet. His hesitation lasted for all of half a second; though it seemed like an hour, as though time itself had been stretched out to a painful degree. Marcus was far from an expert when it came to injuries, but he knew that there was no coming back, not from what he’d done to her.
He’d hurt her, betrayed her, just like he’d wanted so desperately to avoid.
It was then that he stopped thinking.
He didn’t think as he pulled the glass from her throat and plunged it haphazardly into her neck again and again, no method or rationalisation behind his actions aside from a fevered attempt to stop her moving, stop her suffering. His panicked screams mixed with her own death throes and the sharp unzipping of skin and the sound of blood sloshing onto the floor and over his hands and clothes, drenching the room in a flood of viscid scarlet. The tip of the glass quickly snapped away from itself, lodged deeply within the matted mess of Eden Zahn’s throat. The scent of bitter copper filled the air, causing bile to rise in his throat and his mind to grow even more clouded.
Eventually her movements slowed beneath him before halting altogether, and Marcus collapsed onto the ground beside her motionless form, breath harried and strained as he struggled to reintroduce air into his lungs. He quickly rolled onto his side and locked his vision onto Eden’s body, eyes widened as he found himself unable to look away from what he’d done.
Eden recoiled just a moment too late to avoid the cold bite of the jagged glass. It punctured her neck inelegantly, piercing the shin and tearing into the flesh. Eden stared at Marcus with dead eyes and coughed up blood. The blow had probably severed the major artery in her neck; the one with a name that sat on the tip of Eden's tongue.
Sectoid? No.
Cartoid. That was the one.
Eden figured her cartoid was probably severed. Her heart was working overtime, pounding against the walls of her chest. She was losing blood exceptionally quickly. It was getting everywhere. Why was she so blasé about it? Oh, Eden realised. Probably shock setting in.
“Hope you fucking die and-- hope it fucking hurts!” Eden spluttered in shock, not immediately aware of the disconnect between her thoughts and her actions.
Eden winced. As long as Marcus kept the improvised weapon in her neck, she could probably survive for another hour or so before she bled out. It was plugging the wound, and probably the only thing that was keeping her conscious. Eden was already dying and without adequate medical facilities she was going to bleed out within the hour, but it would have given her enough time to think up some poignant last words. Make her death mean something to the people at home. He just needed to leave the knife-
Marcus pulled the knife out of her throat, panicking. Marcus, Eden decided, could go fuck himself. If he was going to kill her, the least he could do was stop pretending that he was as terrified as she was. The wound, no longer plugged, bled profusely. Eden gagged on the blood, coughing and spitting droplets at the boy as he grasped the shard in his hand and brought it back down on her neck.
Oh God, she thought, thrashing against the boy as he brought the knife back down on her throat. Oh God, please don't let me die.
Eden's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she stopped thrashing. Her vision had faded and she could barely see the boy by the time she choked to death on her own blood. After a few more thrusts from the glass the shard broke and lodged itself in her throat. Elsewhere a man behind a desk grinned and began cutting the footage. This was gonna be a big one for the ratings, fellas. Reality television at its finest.
Amber Eagles 01: Eden Zahn - Deceased
Sectoid? No.
Cartoid. That was the one.
Eden figured her cartoid was probably severed. Her heart was working overtime, pounding against the walls of her chest. She was losing blood exceptionally quickly. It was getting everywhere. Why was she so blasé about it? Oh, Eden realised. Probably shock setting in.
“Hope you fucking die and-- hope it fucking hurts!” Eden spluttered in shock, not immediately aware of the disconnect between her thoughts and her actions.
Eden winced. As long as Marcus kept the improvised weapon in her neck, she could probably survive for another hour or so before she bled out. It was plugging the wound, and probably the only thing that was keeping her conscious. Eden was already dying and without adequate medical facilities she was going to bleed out within the hour, but it would have given her enough time to think up some poignant last words. Make her death mean something to the people at home. He just needed to leave the knife-
Marcus pulled the knife out of her throat, panicking. Marcus, Eden decided, could go fuck himself. If he was going to kill her, the least he could do was stop pretending that he was as terrified as she was. The wound, no longer plugged, bled profusely. Eden gagged on the blood, coughing and spitting droplets at the boy as he grasped the shard in his hand and brought it back down on her neck.
Oh God, she thought, thrashing against the boy as he brought the knife back down on her throat. Oh God, please don't let me die.
Eden's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she stopped thrashing. Her vision had faded and she could barely see the boy by the time she choked to death on her own blood. After a few more thrusts from the glass the shard broke and lodged itself in her throat. Elsewhere a man behind a desk grinned and began cutting the footage. This was gonna be a big one for the ratings, fellas. Reality television at its finest.
Amber Eagles 01: Eden Zahn - Deceased
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SansaSaver
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Marcus remained on his side for awhile, unable to move as his body flowed with a concoction of adrenaline and fear, every inch of him shaking as he found himself unable to look away from what he’d done to Eden. The area was silent save for the soft whirring of the cameras vaulted to the wall and his own ragged breath, his lungs feeling as though they’d been stomped upon over and over. Eden’s unmoving form seemed to still exude every emotion she must’ve been feeling as she died, panic and anger continuing to linger long after she’d taken her last breath. Blood was still seeping from the puncture wounds scattered across her neck, definitive proof of what Marcus had done to her, of the crime he’d committed. Of the fact that he was a murderer.
At last he found the energy to move, his first action being to grab Eden’s bag and press it hard against his face, not wanting to cast his eyes over what he’d done to the girl he’d once sat next to in class, the girl who’d tried to help him and been rewarded with a shard of glass in her neck. He was a murderer, he’d taken the life of an innocent. How could his family, his parents, his siblings, the ones he cared about so much, think of him as anything other than a monster, now?
Marcus clenched his eyes closed as tightly as he could, before taking a deep, shaking breath. Then a screamed. A long, pained scream that reverberated around the office and the surrounding room as he let out everything, every regret and emotion that was boring into his mind. But even as his shout trailed off and his eyes flickered upon, he knew it hadn’t been enough. There was nothing he could do, no taking it back, no possible reparation he could make to absolve what he’d done. He felt as though he was sifting through an endless ocean of thoughts, attempting to grasp onto any that he could but finding himself unable to latch onto any as they trickled between his fingers. There was no way he could justify what he’d done, and that notion alone sent nausea flowing through him and caused his mind to become clouded once again.
She should’ve just shut up.
That’s all he wanted.
But she didn’t deserve it.
But there was no taking it back, nothing he could say to apologise to Eden long after he’d stolen her life away from her. He’d done what he’d done and he had to live with it, as hard as it would be. He’d find a way. He had to. If not, then what little sanity he could claim to still retain would leave him as well. It was all he had here, without any friends or family to support him. All he had was himself, for the first time in his life; nobody to urge him on or tell him what a good boy he was, just as his parents had done since the day he was born.
He’d find a way to deal with it.
The mantra relayed itself over and over, the only thought he allowed himself to think as he gathered his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder in addition to Eden’s own belongings, the only thing he focused on as he left the office and bolted from the area, not looking back at the damage he’d caused.
There was no taking it back.
He’d find a way to deal with it.
Soon.
((Marcus Redder continued in Get Out of the Kitchen))
At last he found the energy to move, his first action being to grab Eden’s bag and press it hard against his face, not wanting to cast his eyes over what he’d done to the girl he’d once sat next to in class, the girl who’d tried to help him and been rewarded with a shard of glass in her neck. He was a murderer, he’d taken the life of an innocent. How could his family, his parents, his siblings, the ones he cared about so much, think of him as anything other than a monster, now?
Marcus clenched his eyes closed as tightly as he could, before taking a deep, shaking breath. Then a screamed. A long, pained scream that reverberated around the office and the surrounding room as he let out everything, every regret and emotion that was boring into his mind. But even as his shout trailed off and his eyes flickered upon, he knew it hadn’t been enough. There was nothing he could do, no taking it back, no possible reparation he could make to absolve what he’d done. He felt as though he was sifting through an endless ocean of thoughts, attempting to grasp onto any that he could but finding himself unable to latch onto any as they trickled between his fingers. There was no way he could justify what he’d done, and that notion alone sent nausea flowing through him and caused his mind to become clouded once again.
She should’ve just shut up.
That’s all he wanted.
But she didn’t deserve it.
But there was no taking it back, nothing he could say to apologise to Eden long after he’d stolen her life away from her. He’d done what he’d done and he had to live with it, as hard as it would be. He’d find a way. He had to. If not, then what little sanity he could claim to still retain would leave him as well. It was all he had here, without any friends or family to support him. All he had was himself, for the first time in his life; nobody to urge him on or tell him what a good boy he was, just as his parents had done since the day he was born.
He’d find a way to deal with it.
The mantra relayed itself over and over, the only thought he allowed himself to think as he gathered his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder in addition to Eden’s own belongings, the only thing he focused on as he left the office and bolted from the area, not looking back at the damage he’d caused.
There was no taking it back.
He’d find a way to deal with it.
Soon.
((Marcus Redder continued in Get Out of the Kitchen))