After Jevaun had passed the bushes and trees that made up the line on the shore, he proceeded to follow the long fence on the island. Although keeping a low profile whilst doing so.
His bags slightly jostled as made step after step alongside the fence, both hands curled around his gun at this point. Sometimes, he would hear a noise across the plains and he would stop, and stare out into the distance with narrow eyes before continuing his journey.
Outside of these distractions, his mind would wander. It would wander back to George and his lifeless body left behind in that church. A partnership that started with him saving his life, and Jevaun failing to save his. It would wander to the girl he had shot, and hit. The boy who'd scamper away with her.
It would wander back and remind him of being in that room as bullets were flying around. It was clear nothing was sacred here, and George could be right. What if everyone here was here because of dumb shit they’ve done?
He did not know, but it made one thing clear. If he tried to act as he did back home? Following the rules with some misdemeanors here and there? That's gonna get him killed.
One way or another.
He could not let that happen. There were still things he wanted to do, the art he wanted to make, family, and friends he needed to see. There was a whole world out there that he could explore with them, and instead, he was stuck here. It was not right, it was not fair.
That's why he needed to harden, to make a mask of steel and face whatever was in front of him. It was the only way to be safe.
That was the case now as he stood at a wooden, creaky bridge and looked across it.
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North?
South?
East?
The girl with the nearly-emptied gun wasn't sure where and what was exactly her cardinal position. She looked at the river. She took it as her own. River stared at it for a moment, remembering the moment where she was submerged and nobody fucking helped. She bit her lip. River stopped looking, and moved forward. The boy from earlier was dead. She had his food, his supplies.
River was going to be on the announcement, and she was going to need a lot more than an empty gun to deal with whoever would come. Rainbow. She thought about Rainbow. That was one way to fix her immediate problem. The girl with the brown shirt moved forward, but she reached the plain, she saw someone on the other side of the shore.
He was wobbly. Weakened.
She stared at him from the plain. She took a step forward.
She didn't speak. She simply stared for a moment, before raising her gun.
She counted from ten to zero, mentally. If she spoke, it felt like her throat would squeezed itself shut for a final time. River's finger was on the trigger, ready to squeeze.
Was Michelle watching? She looked at the worms again.
South?
East?
The girl with the nearly-emptied gun wasn't sure where and what was exactly her cardinal position. She looked at the river. She took it as her own. River stared at it for a moment, remembering the moment where she was submerged and nobody fucking helped. She bit her lip. River stopped looking, and moved forward. The boy from earlier was dead. She had his food, his supplies.
River was going to be on the announcement, and she was going to need a lot more than an empty gun to deal with whoever would come. Rainbow. She thought about Rainbow. That was one way to fix her immediate problem. The girl with the brown shirt moved forward, but she reached the plain, she saw someone on the other side of the shore.
He was wobbly. Weakened.
She stared at him from the plain. She took a step forward.
She didn't speak. She simply stared for a moment, before raising her gun.
She counted from ten to zero, mentally. If she spoke, it felt like her throat would squeezed itself shut for a final time. River's finger was on the trigger, ready to squeeze.
Was Michelle watching? She looked at the worms again.
Step after step, the creaking continued, the bridge sounding as if it could collapse in on itself from the wind alone. Clouds still haunting the sky above him as he moved across towards the middle. He heard the rustling of his bags as he stopped in his tracks.
He turned towards the side of the bridge. He closed his eyes and listened to the running water underneath him as he sucked in as much air as possible.
He lifted his left hand and placed it on the railing. Fingers tapped against it as he looked out at the water. It was a beautiful view. Very different from the different sights he would get at home. He could scarcely appreciate it.
Every time he stopped to appreciate those small sights to behold. The village with George. The small fishing hamlet they found. That shoreline with the bundle of trees and bushes. All it did was make him remember that he was far from home.
And those small memories that he had created and would stick with him were of pain and fear: those groggy, lengthy minutes when he woke up in a town he could not recognize. The hostile strangers that surrounded him and the one non-hostile one that he had met was dead.
He knew he could shoot at someone. He had already done it back at the church: nailing some girl out there directly in the head.
His other hand joined the other on the railing. It squeezed on his gun. Not the smartest thing he's done here, considering how flimsy it was, but he needed movement in his hands. It kept him ready.
He turned towards the side of the bridge. He closed his eyes and listened to the running water underneath him as he sucked in as much air as possible.
He lifted his left hand and placed it on the railing. Fingers tapped against it as he looked out at the water. It was a beautiful view. Very different from the different sights he would get at home. He could scarcely appreciate it.
Every time he stopped to appreciate those small sights to behold. The village with George. The small fishing hamlet they found. That shoreline with the bundle of trees and bushes. All it did was make him remember that he was far from home.
And those small memories that he had created and would stick with him were of pain and fear: those groggy, lengthy minutes when he woke up in a town he could not recognize. The hostile strangers that surrounded him and the one non-hostile one that he had met was dead.
He knew he could shoot at someone. He had already done it back at the church: nailing some girl out there directly in the head.
His other hand joined the other on the railing. It squeezed on his gun. Not the smartest thing he's done here, considering how flimsy it was, but he needed movement in his hands. It kept him ready.
The girl's breath hitched at the sight of the gun. It was almost what she wanted.
Rainbow would be better though.
Her gun was heavy, but she knew it was a lie. It wasn't that heavy. And it wasn't that light either. It was nearly empty, and River knew it. She didn't count the bullets because she knew if she did that she would despair. So River didn't count but she knew.
Just like she knew how the island was shaped from the mental image she had made, and how she knew from where she was standing that nobody could be behind her right now. Just like she knew that the log beneath the boy's feet was unsteady. She lowered her aim.
Aiming a gun was hard. Nobody could say otherwise. She had almost emptied a clip into a boy because she couldn't hit him right. River kept her gun pointed on his ankle for a second, and then, she squeezed it.
She thought of the worms.
Rainbow would be better though.
Her gun was heavy, but she knew it was a lie. It wasn't that heavy. And it wasn't that light either. It was nearly empty, and River knew it. She didn't count the bullets because she knew if she did that she would despair. So River didn't count but she knew.
Just like she knew how the island was shaped from the mental image she had made, and how she knew from where she was standing that nobody could be behind her right now. Just like she knew that the log beneath the boy's feet was unsteady. She lowered her aim.
Aiming a gun was hard. Nobody could say otherwise. She had almost emptied a clip into a boy because she couldn't hit him right. River kept her gun pointed on his ankle for a second, and then, she squeezed it.
She thought of the worms.
His mask of stone remained in place as he stared out into the distance. He knew he could shoot someone, but could he do it again? The whole fiasco at the church told him that, yes, he could. But his life was in danger, and George had died then.
His right hand squeezed harder at the memory. His mask fell for a moment as an expression of anger appeared before disappearing.
Inhale.
There was little he could do for him, and vice versa. Now, he needed to concern only with himself and no one else. Move forward and trust no one.
Exhale.
Now that was a plan.
Almost as a response, his world erupted. The creaking from the bridge that had quieted down in his stay cracked; and took Jevaun down with it. His mask vanished as he tumbled down into the bridge. The wood fractured and splintered and cut into Jevaun from underneath. Both of his legs were dangling in pain.
He dropped his gun onto the floor as both of his hands held out against it. Claw hands furiously scratching to keep their grip. He could hear errant pieces of the bridge falling underneath, hitting the water. Small echoes of splashes sounding out.
But that was not what was frightening him the most at that moment.
It was the sudden appearance of a figure across the bridge. It darted across it with an immense speed right towards him. Wide eyes stared out from the wreckage before he tried to grab his gun.
His right hand squeezed harder at the memory. His mask fell for a moment as an expression of anger appeared before disappearing.
Inhale.
There was little he could do for him, and vice versa. Now, he needed to concern only with himself and no one else. Move forward and trust no one.
Exhale.
Now that was a plan.
Almost as a response, his world erupted. The creaking from the bridge that had quieted down in his stay cracked; and took Jevaun down with it. His mask vanished as he tumbled down into the bridge. The wood fractured and splintered and cut into Jevaun from underneath. Both of his legs were dangling in pain.
He dropped his gun onto the floor as both of his hands held out against it. Claw hands furiously scratching to keep their grip. He could hear errant pieces of the bridge falling underneath, hitting the water. Small echoes of splashes sounding out.
But that was not what was frightening him the most at that moment.
It was the sudden appearance of a figure across the bridge. It darted across it with an immense speed right towards him. Wide eyes stared out from the wreckage before he tried to grab his gun.
It was easier than she had thought.
The bridge was going to fall, however. It was a matter of time. The logs were all together and tied as one. When one broke, well, everything was going to break. It was like a dam. Or a person. River moved quickly. She tried to open fire again, but nothing.
She didn't think to shake her gun or punch it to know the worms weren't there. She moved again. She wasn't dazed, in actuality. She enjoyed pretending that she was. Made it easier to feel things. Made it easier to not feel other things.
She dashed, her gun in her hand still.
She saw the gun. River lunged.
The bridge was going to fall, however. It was a matter of time. The logs were all together and tied as one. When one broke, well, everything was going to break. It was like a dam. Or a person. River moved quickly. She tried to open fire again, but nothing.
She didn't think to shake her gun or punch it to know the worms weren't there. She moved again. She wasn't dazed, in actuality. She enjoyed pretending that she was. Made it easier to feel things. Made it easier to not feel other things.
She dashed, her gun in her hand still.
She saw the gun. River lunged.
Jevaun’s right hand reached out, fingertips edging towards his gun. Flailing as it felt the handle in reach. But it wasn’t to be as the girl grasped it from his reach.
For a moment he was terrified it was the girl from the church seeking revenge, but it wasn’t her. Someone else who he had not seen before. A girl that looked similar to him.
She looked terrifying in front of him. Her clothes clinging to her skin like it was a transparent shell. Hair hanging down in front of her face as she cradled his gun. She was on her knees in front of him, a disconcerting look on her face as her arm reached up high above. His widened eyes like dinner plates as it came crashing down on him.
The sudden jolt it gave him caused more bits and pieces to fall off the bridge. The sound of wood scraping his clothes and skin echoed out into the water below.
“Wa-” he started, but never finished as his world started to turn upside down as another hit came. His forehead felt like a field of thunder as more came.
Again and again and again.
For a moment he was terrified it was the girl from the church seeking revenge, but it wasn’t her. Someone else who he had not seen before. A girl that looked similar to him.
She looked terrifying in front of him. Her clothes clinging to her skin like it was a transparent shell. Hair hanging down in front of her face as she cradled his gun. She was on her knees in front of him, a disconcerting look on her face as her arm reached up high above. His widened eyes like dinner plates as it came crashing down on him.
The sudden jolt it gave him caused more bits and pieces to fall off the bridge. The sound of wood scraping his clothes and skin echoed out into the water below.
“Wa-” he started, but never finished as his world started to turn upside down as another hit came. His forehead felt like a field of thunder as more came.
Again and again and again.
The gun was heavy.
River focused on the gun. It was in her hands that were held by her wrists that were held by her elbows which in turn were held by her shoulders. She raised all of them up, then all of them down. The weight was still present. It didn't move, it was stagnant.
She raised it again, and then back down. She focused on the gun like she had focused on the worms. The weight was about the same as her backpack that she had on her when she lost her memories. It felt all too together.
She heard squelching.
River kept her eyes on the gun.
She kept swinging it, and at one point, she surprised herself by hearing her own panting.
River focused on the gun. It was in her hands that were held by her wrists that were held by her elbows which in turn were held by her shoulders. She raised all of them up, then all of them down. The weight was still present. It didn't move, it was stagnant.
She raised it again, and then back down. She focused on the gun like she had focused on the worms. The weight was about the same as her backpack that she had on her when she lost her memories. It felt all too together.
She heard squelching.
River kept her eyes on the gun.
She kept swinging it, and at one point, she surprised herself by hearing her own panting.
The thunder continued. His mind was wrapping itself in a knot, trying to remember what he had done to get here. His eyes were open, but they could barely see. Blood was flowing down his face from the continuous assault that rained upon him.
His fingers started to slip, their grasp on the boards growing weaker and weaker.
Until; they slipped entirely, and Jevaun's body completed the tumble through the hole. He crashed into the water; his back bounced against the rocks that were there.
His voice came and went. Screams turned to gasps for breath as he laid there. He stared at the hole above him, bits and pieces raining down around him.
Nothing was responding. His hands. His arms. His legs. He could not do anything.
Other than feel.
His head, his body, it all hurt so badly. He wanted to sleep, to go as far away as possible. But he could not close his eyes, much as he wanted to.
If he did, that would be it.
Water was rushing by him. It almost took him with it. His clothes were as soaked as the girl above's were. It was cold.
Jevaun laid his head back; he tried to keep blinking. Stave away that creeping sensation in his head. But it hurt so bad.
So, eventually, his eyes closed.
And half a minute later, he was gone.
Jevaun Barrett: Deceased
His fingers started to slip, their grasp on the boards growing weaker and weaker.
Until; they slipped entirely, and Jevaun's body completed the tumble through the hole. He crashed into the water; his back bounced against the rocks that were there.
His voice came and went. Screams turned to gasps for breath as he laid there. He stared at the hole above him, bits and pieces raining down around him.
Nothing was responding. His hands. His arms. His legs. He could not do anything.
Other than feel.
His head, his body, it all hurt so badly. He wanted to sleep, to go as far away as possible. But he could not close his eyes, much as he wanted to.
If he did, that would be it.
Water was rushing by him. It almost took him with it. His clothes were as soaked as the girl above's were. It was cold.
Jevaun laid his head back; he tried to keep blinking. Stave away that creeping sensation in his head. But it hurt so bad.
So, eventually, his eyes closed.
And half a minute later, he was gone.
Jevaun Barrett: Deceased
River didn’t know when she started to vomit.
Was it five seconds or five minutes ago? The water inside of her was now spilling onto the river beneath her. Her throat squeezed out more liquid, and then she got a hold of herself. She looked around. There was nobody in sight. She wasn’t going to commit their mistake.
She wasn’t going to commit them, River swore to herself.
River looked at the boy with the same color as her skin. His head was caved, broken in. She coughed again. He was starting to slump forward. River pushed him, his torso slumping the other way. He was open to the sun. River grimaced, squinting at the gore.
She took another look around. Still no-one. She threw her gun on the other shore, and her hands fumbled on the boy’s stuff. River grabbed the two bags from the boy’s still warm hands, and threw them where her gun was.
She took another look, and she was comforted to find no-one yet again. A golden glint caught her eye, and her hands went to it. It was a pretty chain, and it made her bit her lip bloody. She wanted it.
Not because of greed, not because she wanted a trophy, but because it only felt right to have it. She focused on the weight of the gun, or on the worms, and her hands went to his shirt. It was bloodied, but she prefered blood to the mud.
She grabbed the hem, and pulled it upward. Another shirt was underneath. River considered also grabbing it, but it was white, and her luck with white shirts was close to null. She threw the blue t-shirt next to the other bag.
River looked down, noticing her toes. How long had they been out? She looked at her other foot. It still had her other shoe on. She cocked her head to the side, noticing the two dangling blue sneakers.
They were too large for her, and plus, she’d have to get in the water, and she was never getting back in that water.
Ever.
Her foot clinked a gun. Her eyes widened. That was a prize she wanted.
She caught herself. A prize? A fucking prize? River hated herself. She fucking did. Every bit of it.
A prize.
This wasn’t a prize, it was a curse. A hex. A broken promise.
She wasn’t a fucking person anymore. She wouldn’t get a prize, or an award, or anything for that matter. She wanted to vomit again.
The girl with the grave look from her face tried to shove the boy with the same dark skin as her into the water. It didn’t move. It was too- he was too heavy for her. She pushed him again, and he didn’t budge.
She’d just have to avoid his body, and he’d just have to spend the rest of his existence suspended like a shitty hunting trophy.
She stepped over him, looking back.
His body was still broken. She didn’t imagine it. She focused on the weight of the worms and moved toward her new possessions.
Slowly but surely, she headed toward the Harbor.
Was it five seconds or five minutes ago? The water inside of her was now spilling onto the river beneath her. Her throat squeezed out more liquid, and then she got a hold of herself. She looked around. There was nobody in sight. She wasn’t going to commit their mistake.
She wasn’t going to commit them, River swore to herself.
River looked at the boy with the same color as her skin. His head was caved, broken in. She coughed again. He was starting to slump forward. River pushed him, his torso slumping the other way. He was open to the sun. River grimaced, squinting at the gore.
She took another look around. Still no-one. She threw her gun on the other shore, and her hands fumbled on the boy’s stuff. River grabbed the two bags from the boy’s still warm hands, and threw them where her gun was.
She took another look, and she was comforted to find no-one yet again. A golden glint caught her eye, and her hands went to it. It was a pretty chain, and it made her bit her lip bloody. She wanted it.
Not because of greed, not because she wanted a trophy, but because it only felt right to have it. She focused on the weight of the gun, or on the worms, and her hands went to his shirt. It was bloodied, but she prefered blood to the mud.
She grabbed the hem, and pulled it upward. Another shirt was underneath. River considered also grabbing it, but it was white, and her luck with white shirts was close to null. She threw the blue t-shirt next to the other bag.
River looked down, noticing her toes. How long had they been out? She looked at her other foot. It still had her other shoe on. She cocked her head to the side, noticing the two dangling blue sneakers.
They were too large for her, and plus, she’d have to get in the water, and she was never getting back in that water.
Ever.
Her foot clinked a gun. Her eyes widened. That was a prize she wanted.
She caught herself. A prize? A fucking prize? River hated herself. She fucking did. Every bit of it.
A prize.
This wasn’t a prize, it was a curse. A hex. A broken promise.
She wasn’t a fucking person anymore. She wouldn’t get a prize, or an award, or anything for that matter. She wanted to vomit again.
The girl with the grave look from her face tried to shove the boy with the same dark skin as her into the water. It didn’t move. It was too- he was too heavy for her. She pushed him again, and he didn’t budge.
She’d just have to avoid his body, and he’d just have to spend the rest of his existence suspended like a shitty hunting trophy.
She stepped over him, looking back.
His body was still broken. She didn’t imagine it. She focused on the weight of the worms and moved toward her new possessions.
Slowly but surely, she headed toward the Harbor.