((Alive Young continued from Discordant))
Once they were close enough to their destination Alice surprised herself by managing a half run to the theatre doors, the promise of warmth, comfort and maybe even running water able to overpower her fatigue momentarily. The weather had improved slightly from the previous night, the wind chill dropping to nothing, but it was still cold enough out in the open that Alice’s fingers felt frozen to her crossbow. The threat of frostbite seemed like a definite possibility.
She even managed to throw open the doors and walk inside after only a moments glance through the windows to assure herself that nobody was in the lobby, not prevaricating for long minutes as she had at the sports centre.
The theatre was, unfortunately, not heated, but was still warmer than outside. The lobby was certainly… decorative, to say the least. It was styled in a faux-artsy fashion by a designer that apparently didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘restraint’ creating a look that was more tacky than classical. Alice’s gaze lingered on the portraits in particular, old black and white photos of stars from movies so old even her grandmother probably hadn’t heard of them. Stars from a time when people didn’t need to be sacrificed for the sake of entertainment.
The stars of her time were kids like her… and Jackson.
Alice could admit in the quiet of her mind that her running off so suddenly had partly been to put some distance between her and her new ally, even for a moment. Rushing to the theatre had just been the pretence she needed. She did not mind her new ally, she just didn’t feel as comfortable around her teammate as her initial relief at finding him had suggested she might be.
Her walk with Jackson from the sports centre to here had just proven something she already knew. Alice wanted to be with other people, she was too lonely without them, but she couldn’t stand to be around them either.
Alice hadn’t felt comfortable around people for a long time, even before this game started she found it difficult to be around anyone she didn’t know and trust for extended periods of time. Any attempt at conversation felt like walking a tightrope over a minefield, any silence became tense and awkward. But in the end it wasn’t Alice’s shyness or lack of social skills that put up a wall between her and everyone else, it was a lack of trust. It was not knowing how other people were going to react in any situation and always assuming the worst outcome. It was her assuming that people would automatically take a disliking to her and worrying about what that would mean for her.
It was, in short, the fact that people scared her. For many reasons.
Her time spent in this game hadn’t done anything to dissuade her of this opinion; everyone she had met so far had been hostile to her in one way or another. Teammates should have been different, she thought being around them would be different. Alice thought she could relax around them, that she wouldn’t need to be afraid of them and that she could at least trust that they had their own best interests at heart. That it was in their best interest to keep her alive.
Teammates had nothing to gain from hurting each other; as much as she told herself this and logically knew that it was true, it didn’t change the fact that she knew people didn’t always act logically. Josiah had nothing to gain from assaulting her the way he did. Alice had nothing to gain from shooting that girl in the leg. And yet, Josiah had sought to terrify her and then just left, not killing her or taking anything from her and gaining nothing. She still did not see the logic in his actions and thought she never would.
Alice shot that girl in the leg because it had seemed like her only option at the time, even though it turned out to be the biggest mistake she had ever made. What was to keep Jackson from making a big mistake with her?
Before her imagination could run away with that thought a crackle of static broke the silence in the otherwise empty theatre lobby. This was followed by a slow, heavy and very sarcastic round of applause. Alice felt her fatigue settle in with interest even before the voice she knew was coming started speaking, dread lining her stomach as she realised what was coming.
She had never heard of Ritzy Daggers two days ago. She wished she still didn’t.
Alice didn’t pay much attention to the announcement, both waiting for and trying to ignore the part she knew was coming soon. Still, one piece of information did manage to slip through.
Fifty. Fifty in two days.
Two of them were because of her.
They were all animals.
And then she heard her name, heard the mocking words, and finally gave up.
She walked over to the concessions counter and placed her crossbow on its surface, next to the soda fountain. She turned her back to it, letting it support her weight as she slid down the ground. Once seated she pulled her knees up in front of her, wrapped her arms around them and let her head drop to rest against them.
There were no tears anymore, no screaming or whimpering. Just quiet.
The Final Curtain
It's not that type of theatre
((Jackson King continued from Discordant))
Jackson had maintained silence as they travelled, easy enough considering the girl didn't seem keen on conversation. He even kept to himself when they neared the theater, the place where everything had been set into grinding, brutal motion.
Truthfully, he was afraid of speaking. It felt like every major issue that rose was prefaced by idle conversation. The girl moved faster, but he kept his pace. He guessed she wanted a few moments to herself.
By the time he made it to the theater and cleared the doors for the second time this whole season, she had taken her solemn perch by the drink machine.
His tongue worked on the inside of his mouth, as he debated breaking the quiet. Against his better judgment, he did.
"What's your name?"
As good a place as any to start.
Jackson had maintained silence as they travelled, easy enough considering the girl didn't seem keen on conversation. He even kept to himself when they neared the theater, the place where everything had been set into grinding, brutal motion.
Truthfully, he was afraid of speaking. It felt like every major issue that rose was prefaced by idle conversation. The girl moved faster, but he kept his pace. He guessed she wanted a few moments to herself.
By the time he made it to the theater and cleared the doors for the second time this whole season, she had taken her solemn perch by the drink machine.
His tongue worked on the inside of his mouth, as he debated breaking the quiet. Against his better judgment, he did.
"What's your name?"
As good a place as any to start.
Alice startled at the unexpected question, not realising Jackson was that close. She kept her head down for a moment, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart before facing him.
What was her name? It was an innocuous enough question in any other situation, but given that it came immediately after the identities of several murderers had just been made common knowledge it carried a certain danger. Especially for her.
Did he know, or at least assume, why she was upset? Her name had just been read out labelling her as a killer, the description making her sound like a psychopath who repeatedly stabbed somebody just to make a point.
She exhaled then, a sharp snort through her nostrils that was almost a dark laugh. No, all she did was shoot someone in the leg. To make a point. Killing James Houlihan had just been self defence, stopping the boy from beating her after he attacked her when she shot his friend.
Laying it out like that she couldn’t even feign protest anymore. She wasn’t much better than the crazy killer they were painting her to be.
Alice raised her head slowly, apprehension clear on her face as she examined Jackson from her position. He didn’t look suspicious or angry, not yet, but that could easily change once the truth came out. She could refuse to answer the question, but that would only make him suspicious and curious. She could lie and give a false name, try to keep her identity a secret for as long as possible or at least for as long as mattered.
She could even run. If she moved carefully enough she could grab her crossbow without Jackson realising anything was wrong and then make a dash deeper into the theatre before he knew what was going on. Maybe she could hide or maybe she could find a back way out.
But Alice didn’t want to break their partnership just yet if she could help it. She didn’t want to lie or hide the truth either. She just didn’t want to fight it any longer, whatever it was. She just didn’t want to fight at all anymore.
The truth would come out eventually and Alice needed to either trust her teammate now or at least accept the consequences of her actions.
“I killed two people.” It was probably not the answer Jackson had expected, it would likely shock him. Alice was surprised herself at how easily the words flowed, no hesitation or stumbling for the right thing to say like usual. “My name was just on the announcement. It’s Alice.”
She lapsed into silence then and turned away from him. She did not tuck her head back down against her knees however, but instead rested her chin on them, staring across at the black and white portraits opposite. She locked eyes with one in particular, a beautiful woman with blonde hair and a dazzling smile.
“James Houlihan.” Her attention was suddenly back on Jackson. She spoke slowly, whatever brief spell of confident she had already passed. “Did… did you know him?”
What was her name? It was an innocuous enough question in any other situation, but given that it came immediately after the identities of several murderers had just been made common knowledge it carried a certain danger. Especially for her.
Did he know, or at least assume, why she was upset? Her name had just been read out labelling her as a killer, the description making her sound like a psychopath who repeatedly stabbed somebody just to make a point.
She exhaled then, a sharp snort through her nostrils that was almost a dark laugh. No, all she did was shoot someone in the leg. To make a point. Killing James Houlihan had just been self defence, stopping the boy from beating her after he attacked her when she shot his friend.
Laying it out like that she couldn’t even feign protest anymore. She wasn’t much better than the crazy killer they were painting her to be.
Alice raised her head slowly, apprehension clear on her face as she examined Jackson from her position. He didn’t look suspicious or angry, not yet, but that could easily change once the truth came out. She could refuse to answer the question, but that would only make him suspicious and curious. She could lie and give a false name, try to keep her identity a secret for as long as possible or at least for as long as mattered.
She could even run. If she moved carefully enough she could grab her crossbow without Jackson realising anything was wrong and then make a dash deeper into the theatre before he knew what was going on. Maybe she could hide or maybe she could find a back way out.
But Alice didn’t want to break their partnership just yet if she could help it. She didn’t want to lie or hide the truth either. She just didn’t want to fight it any longer, whatever it was. She just didn’t want to fight at all anymore.
The truth would come out eventually and Alice needed to either trust her teammate now or at least accept the consequences of her actions.
“I killed two people.” It was probably not the answer Jackson had expected, it would likely shock him. Alice was surprised herself at how easily the words flowed, no hesitation or stumbling for the right thing to say like usual. “My name was just on the announcement. It’s Alice.”
She lapsed into silence then and turned away from him. She did not tuck her head back down against her knees however, but instead rested her chin on them, staring across at the black and white portraits opposite. She locked eyes with one in particular, a beautiful woman with blonde hair and a dazzling smile.
“James Houlihan.” Her attention was suddenly back on Jackson. She spoke slowly, whatever brief spell of confident she had already passed. “Did… did you know him?”
Jackson was surprised at how easy he processed the information that Alice was one of those being touted on the announcements. Times changed, and he guessed he changed right along with them. He'd been tuning the announcements out for awhile. It was easy when you were embroiled in our own bullshit.
"I guess you're not going to kill me if we're on the same side." He said.
And then the name. It brought up a whisper of a memory. One of the kids at his school, someone he may have met in passing or seen around the halls.
"Maybe." He said. He moved his hands to the front of the smudged dress shirt that came with his ensemble and smoothed it out. "Fuck if I know anybody anymore." He sighed and looked back at her.
"Did you have to do it? Kill them, I mean?"
"I guess you're not going to kill me if we're on the same side." He said.
And then the name. It brought up a whisper of a memory. One of the kids at his school, someone he may have met in passing or seen around the halls.
"Maybe." He said. He moved his hands to the front of the smudged dress shirt that came with his ensemble and smoothed it out. "Fuck if I know anybody anymore." He sighed and looked back at her.
"Did you have to do it? Kill them, I mean?"
Jackson was taking the revelation that she was a killer reasonably well. He didn’t seem angry or scared; he barely seemed to react at all actually. Aside from making a rhetorical statement confirming he wasn’t in any danger from her, an irony Alice might have smiled at once upon a time, he seemed to just let the news pass him by.
That was a little worrying in itself. Most people wouldn’t be that calm hearing that sort of information. Either Jackson was extremely calm and laid back, had adjusted well enough to the game to not be surprised, or had been made so numb by the past two days he just didn’t care.
The way Alice was feeling right now, she could imagine it was the latter and relate to it.
The name James seemed to spark some recognition from him but from his words it didn’t sound like Alice had inadvertently killed a friend of his. That was something of a relief; it wouldn’t ease her guilt in the slightest, but at least Jackson wasn’t adding to it either.
Just when she thought it was over, that the worst was dealt with and they could move on to easier matters, Jackson asked her a very difficult question. One she didn’t really want to think about.
Did she have to kill them?
The answer was simple.
“No.”
Every action Alice had taken, every decision she had made since the start of this game felt like the wrong one. From the moment she had first woken up and chosen a course of action things had gone wrong.
To search for her teammates.
To go to the transport and tourism centre. Both times.
To use the threat of a loaded weapon to ward people off.
To trust Josiah.
To shoot that girl.
Left not right.
Up not down.
All wrong.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Most of my choices seemed like the best ones at the time, some-sometimes they seem like my only option, but… n-no… no, I didn’t have to kill anyone.
“I… never wanted to h-hurt anyone. But, at the same time, I was scared.” A lump was rising in her throat, making it harder to talk as time went on. She swallowed the lump down and continued. “That… that doesn’t make it right, any of it. I threatened people. I… I tried to use my weapon to scare them away. First group I met. Tried that.”
She tried speaking in short, broken sentences. It was easier. She was thinking maybe if she rushed it out it wouldn’t hurt as much remembering all of her past mistakes. “Didn’t know ab-about the safety. It went off. He… didn’t need to d-die. All my fault”
Her throat was too dry to continue. She still had her pack by her side so she opened it up and retrieved a water bottle. Unscrewing the lid she greedily gulped down half of it before she felt well enough to continue.
“By the… before I… I was att-attacked. Molested. Heard… heard people killed. Saw the bodies. I thought…” Her thoughts were a jumble. Trying to put them all together was putting together a jigsaw with no edges and no idea what the final product should look like. Trying to follow the threads that led her to this point, that led her to becoming a killer, it wasn’t easy. “I found somewhere safe, bu-but then I heard people. I didn’t want to hide or…or run. So I went and found them, tried to scare them away again. I was so scared, hurting people didn’t seem so bad anymore. I shot someone… in the leg, but then the other attack me. James, James attacked me.”
Alice couldn’t tell if she was even understandable any more. It was just a stream of words, the dam holding them back broken now that she had started. She didn’t look to Jackson to see if he was following, she wasn’t even speaking to him anymore, just voicing the thoughts and justifications in her head to the world at large.
“He b-beat me. I knew… I knew he wouldn’t stop. I stabbed him with an arrow. He wouldn’t stop. I kept… kept stabbing until he did.”
Her face contorted into a pained grimace as she remembered the scene. James on top of her, fists raining down, pain in every part of her body. The arrow gripped tight enough in her hand to snap, white knuckled as she stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. The blood poured down over her, staining her clothes, her hair, her skin. Her imagination made it worse, embellishing every aspect of it.
Alice let her head fall against her knees and folded her arms over it. “He didn’t give me a choice but… my fault. I started it. Should have run. Should have hidden. Should… should have… just let it happen.”
That was a little worrying in itself. Most people wouldn’t be that calm hearing that sort of information. Either Jackson was extremely calm and laid back, had adjusted well enough to the game to not be surprised, or had been made so numb by the past two days he just didn’t care.
The way Alice was feeling right now, she could imagine it was the latter and relate to it.
The name James seemed to spark some recognition from him but from his words it didn’t sound like Alice had inadvertently killed a friend of his. That was something of a relief; it wouldn’t ease her guilt in the slightest, but at least Jackson wasn’t adding to it either.
Just when she thought it was over, that the worst was dealt with and they could move on to easier matters, Jackson asked her a very difficult question. One she didn’t really want to think about.
Did she have to kill them?
The answer was simple.
“No.”
Every action Alice had taken, every decision she had made since the start of this game felt like the wrong one. From the moment she had first woken up and chosen a course of action things had gone wrong.
To search for her teammates.
To go to the transport and tourism centre. Both times.
To use the threat of a loaded weapon to ward people off.
To trust Josiah.
To shoot that girl.
Left not right.
Up not down.
All wrong.
“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. Most of my choices seemed like the best ones at the time, some-sometimes they seem like my only option, but… n-no… no, I didn’t have to kill anyone.
“I… never wanted to h-hurt anyone. But, at the same time, I was scared.” A lump was rising in her throat, making it harder to talk as time went on. She swallowed the lump down and continued. “That… that doesn’t make it right, any of it. I threatened people. I… I tried to use my weapon to scare them away. First group I met. Tried that.”
She tried speaking in short, broken sentences. It was easier. She was thinking maybe if she rushed it out it wouldn’t hurt as much remembering all of her past mistakes. “Didn’t know ab-about the safety. It went off. He… didn’t need to d-die. All my fault”
Her throat was too dry to continue. She still had her pack by her side so she opened it up and retrieved a water bottle. Unscrewing the lid she greedily gulped down half of it before she felt well enough to continue.
“By the… before I… I was att-attacked. Molested. Heard… heard people killed. Saw the bodies. I thought…” Her thoughts were a jumble. Trying to put them all together was putting together a jigsaw with no edges and no idea what the final product should look like. Trying to follow the threads that led her to this point, that led her to becoming a killer, it wasn’t easy. “I found somewhere safe, bu-but then I heard people. I didn’t want to hide or…or run. So I went and found them, tried to scare them away again. I was so scared, hurting people didn’t seem so bad anymore. I shot someone… in the leg, but then the other attack me. James, James attacked me.”
Alice couldn’t tell if she was even understandable any more. It was just a stream of words, the dam holding them back broken now that she had started. She didn’t look to Jackson to see if he was following, she wasn’t even speaking to him anymore, just voicing the thoughts and justifications in her head to the world at large.
“He b-beat me. I knew… I knew he wouldn’t stop. I stabbed him with an arrow. He wouldn’t stop. I kept… kept stabbing until he did.”
Her face contorted into a pained grimace as she remembered the scene. James on top of her, fists raining down, pain in every part of her body. The arrow gripped tight enough in her hand to snap, white knuckled as she stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. The blood poured down over her, staining her clothes, her hair, her skin. Her imagination made it worse, embellishing every aspect of it.
Alice let her head fall against her knees and folded her arms over it. “He didn’t give me a choice but… my fault. I started it. Should have run. Should have hidden. Should… should have… just let it happen.”
A dark cast came over Jackson's face as she talked. He was remembering his own experiences. All the times he tried to talk, tried to be a diplomat. Tried to act like humanity was still a thing worth possessing.
He moved toward where Alice sat on the wall, squatted on his haunches, and rest a hand on her shoulder. Everything was turning around in his head. Becoming solid.
"If you wanted to live, you were right. Sounds like he didn't leave you a choice." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Felt like he was building up a headache. Probably from wandering around in the cold.
"I...I, uh. I tried to talk some people down." Jackson stared at his feet, as if looking for the words. Finally he shook his head, decided. "No one wants to talk. I'm learning this now. I don't think I'm gonna waste breath on it anymore."
He moved toward where Alice sat on the wall, squatted on his haunches, and rest a hand on her shoulder. Everything was turning around in his head. Becoming solid.
"If you wanted to live, you were right. Sounds like he didn't leave you a choice." He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Felt like he was building up a headache. Probably from wandering around in the cold.
"I...I, uh. I tried to talk some people down." Jackson stared at his feet, as if looking for the words. Finally he shook his head, decided. "No one wants to talk. I'm learning this now. I don't think I'm gonna waste breath on it anymore."
Alice flinched as the hand landed on her shoulder, once again caught off guard due to her lack of attention for her surroundings. Some point after meeting Jackson, or maybe even before that, she’d become less attentive, less careful; maybe it was because she really did feel safer around a teammate, despite what she thought, or maybe it had something to due with the fugue she currently felt like she was mired in. Either way she needed to do something about it soon, before somebody less friendly than Jackson managed to get as close without her noticing them.
“This game changes people. I’ve always known it. It-it’s changed me.” She’d done things that she never imagined herself capable of and she could only blame the stress of the situation for it. The things she had done to survive, threatening, hurting and killing, but also smaller things like what she was doing now.
Just sitting and talking to someone who before now was a stranger was something that would have reduced Alice to a nervous wreck before. Outside of this game Alice’s biggest worry for the future was that she would never get over that hurdle. Pessimistic thinking maybe but she was afraid of people, afraid of what they thought of her. But now she realised there were things much worse than making a mistake in a conversation and much more to fear from people than them judging you because you said something stupid.
She was still a wreck; her emotional state was about as unstable as she could ever remember, even on her worst days as a child, and her mental state was so precarious it probably didn’t even bear thinking about. But none of that was due to the conversation; if anything this talk with Jackson was helping to calm her down more than fray her nerves further.
Funny, considering the topic at hand. She should feel more self conscious than ever and feel the weight of Jackson’s judgement more heavily.
Alice let her arms drop, freeing her head to raise enough that she could see Jackson out of the corner of her eye. “I was afraid of losing myself, at the start. I-I knew I wasn’t going to survive, nothing I could do would change that, so… so I wanted to at least die without this game changing me. That was har-harder than I thought. When it happened I… I was too scared not to do what I d-did.”
She folded one arm under her chin while her other hand began to play with the cuff of her jeans. “When it comes down to it, people will prioritise themselves over everyone else. Th-there’s no point trying to talk anyone down. Anyone who… who was a scared as I was, or is determined to live… or just wants to ki-kill you… won’t be convinced.”
Alice lapsed into silence then and continued to play with the cuff of her jean as the lull continued. Eventually though she had to give voice to a thought that had been nagging at her since she heard the announcement.
“How… how many d-do you think are left? With fifty dead, there can’t be many.”
“This game changes people. I’ve always known it. It-it’s changed me.” She’d done things that she never imagined herself capable of and she could only blame the stress of the situation for it. The things she had done to survive, threatening, hurting and killing, but also smaller things like what she was doing now.
Just sitting and talking to someone who before now was a stranger was something that would have reduced Alice to a nervous wreck before. Outside of this game Alice’s biggest worry for the future was that she would never get over that hurdle. Pessimistic thinking maybe but she was afraid of people, afraid of what they thought of her. But now she realised there were things much worse than making a mistake in a conversation and much more to fear from people than them judging you because you said something stupid.
She was still a wreck; her emotional state was about as unstable as she could ever remember, even on her worst days as a child, and her mental state was so precarious it probably didn’t even bear thinking about. But none of that was due to the conversation; if anything this talk with Jackson was helping to calm her down more than fray her nerves further.
Funny, considering the topic at hand. She should feel more self conscious than ever and feel the weight of Jackson’s judgement more heavily.
Alice let her arms drop, freeing her head to raise enough that she could see Jackson out of the corner of her eye. “I was afraid of losing myself, at the start. I-I knew I wasn’t going to survive, nothing I could do would change that, so… so I wanted to at least die without this game changing me. That was har-harder than I thought. When it happened I… I was too scared not to do what I d-did.”
She folded one arm under her chin while her other hand began to play with the cuff of her jeans. “When it comes down to it, people will prioritise themselves over everyone else. Th-there’s no point trying to talk anyone down. Anyone who… who was a scared as I was, or is determined to live… or just wants to ki-kill you… won’t be convinced.”
Alice lapsed into silence then and continued to play with the cuff of her jean as the lull continued. Eventually though she had to give voice to a thought that had been nagging at her since she heard the announcement.
“How… how many d-do you think are left? With fifty dead, there can’t be many.”
Jackson listened as she voiced the sentiment he was only just now accepting. It was ugly. It was miserable. But experience was a bitch of a teacher.
She asked him numbers, and he looked toward one of the posters, a portrait of what appeared some kind of B-movie with a giant squid. Idly, he wondered where anyone even got the motivation to shoot that crap these days.
He shrugged.
"I don't know. Gotta be close, right?" He looked down at his bandana. "If we stick together, watch each other's back, can't we both get out? Wasn't that the rule?"
She asked him numbers, and he looked toward one of the posters, a portrait of what appeared some kind of B-movie with a giant squid. Idly, he wondered where anyone even got the motivation to shoot that crap these days.
He shrugged.
"I don't know. Gotta be close, right?" He looked down at his bandana. "If we stick together, watch each other's back, can't we both get out? Wasn't that the rule?"
Her hand stopped fidgeting against her leg and she turned to her teammate. Upon hearing Jackson’s words Alice managed to summon a small smile; it was getting harder and harder to keep distrusting this boy, when he was doing such a good job of convincing her he was just a nice boy who got caught up in a terrible situation.
“Y-yeah. Teammates get to go home together.”
The smile was short lived however and it soon faltered. Alice turned away again, suddenly thoughtful.
During this whole ordeal she had never once given any thought to the idea of surviving, it didn’t seem realistic and if she dwelled on the idea of home she knew it would only harm her in the long run. Jackson was right though, they must be close to the last people alive.
Alice tried to picture the studio again; the big screen, the presenter and most importantly the large crowd of students surrounding her on all sides. The memory wasn’t clear, Alice had spent more time looking at the ground and trying not to hyperventilate than looking around, but the group wasn’t that large. There could be maybe a dozen people left?
Nonetheless, she didn’t allow herself to hope. It would be cruel, in a way, to let herself hope now when any chance they had could be dashed away in an instant of bad luck or poor judgement. If she let herself begin to believe it was possible only to have that taken away from her she didn’t think she could keep her sanity intact.
But still, the idea of home kept trying to make itself heard. Now that it was given some light it had taken root and wouldn’t go away.
Home to her family, home to her old live, home to a time when the worst thing she had to worry about was being as unnoticeable as possible. A place where nobody was trying to kill her, where she didn’t have to worry about frostbite and where she didn’t have the eyes of millions on her at all times wondering how she was going to die or when she was going to snap.
Home.
Why didn’t the idea make her happier?
“Urm… I-if you made it out of here, wh-what would you do? W-what do you have waiting for you? Back home.”
“Y-yeah. Teammates get to go home together.”
The smile was short lived however and it soon faltered. Alice turned away again, suddenly thoughtful.
During this whole ordeal she had never once given any thought to the idea of surviving, it didn’t seem realistic and if she dwelled on the idea of home she knew it would only harm her in the long run. Jackson was right though, they must be close to the last people alive.
Alice tried to picture the studio again; the big screen, the presenter and most importantly the large crowd of students surrounding her on all sides. The memory wasn’t clear, Alice had spent more time looking at the ground and trying not to hyperventilate than looking around, but the group wasn’t that large. There could be maybe a dozen people left?
Nonetheless, she didn’t allow herself to hope. It would be cruel, in a way, to let herself hope now when any chance they had could be dashed away in an instant of bad luck or poor judgement. If she let herself begin to believe it was possible only to have that taken away from her she didn’t think she could keep her sanity intact.
But still, the idea of home kept trying to make itself heard. Now that it was given some light it had taken root and wouldn’t go away.
Home to her family, home to her old live, home to a time when the worst thing she had to worry about was being as unnoticeable as possible. A place where nobody was trying to kill her, where she didn’t have to worry about frostbite and where she didn’t have the eyes of millions on her at all times wondering how she was going to die or when she was going to snap.
Home.
Why didn’t the idea make her happier?
“Urm… I-if you made it out of here, wh-what would you do? W-what do you have waiting for you? Back home.”
Jackson smiled, letting his chin drop to his chest. The brim of his hat cast his face in shadow.
"Mom. Dad. My guitar. The kind of stuff every kid on here wishes they could get back to, I guess."
His jaw clenched, and he shook his head.
"The kids. Jesus, the kids." He looked over at Alice. "I do some volunteer work at a library. I play guitar forsome kids. Old Disney, Beatles, that kind of stuff." He swallowed. When he spoke again, there was a hitch in his voice. "Oh God, I hope they're not watching this."
"Mom. Dad. My guitar. The kind of stuff every kid on here wishes they could get back to, I guess."
His jaw clenched, and he shook his head.
"The kids. Jesus, the kids." He looked over at Alice. "I do some volunteer work at a library. I play guitar forsome kids. Old Disney, Beatles, that kind of stuff." He swallowed. When he spoke again, there was a hitch in his voice. "Oh God, I hope they're not watching this."
“You were a volunteer.”
It sounded as if Jackson had left a lot of things behind when he was taken into this game and from the sad smile and hitch in his voice it was apparent that he was missing all of them. She felt a little bad about asking him about them and bringing up these reminders of his life before all this, but she needed to understand something and was hoping his answer would enlighten her.
In his answer Jackson had mentioned things that ‘every kid on here wishes they could get back to’, the kind of things they associated with home and the things that made life enjoyable for them. Family, friends, the people important to them. Hobbies, past times, maybe even jobs.
When Alice looked inside herself to find that part of her that yearned to get back to her old life, to her family and her books and her whatever else… she was surprised to find that it wasn’t really there. And she didn’t understand why.
It was not because there was nothing she cared about back home, far from it. She adored her family. Her mother and grandmother were her entire world. The idea that they might be watching, like Jackson worried about the kids he played guitar for, broke her heart.
Her mother had given up so much, including her relationship with Alice’s father, just to be able to have her. She moved back home with her mother so Alice could be raised by family, even if it meant she had to commute hours each day to her job in another city. A caring, hardworking person who still managed to find as much time as possible to spent with her daughter, who Alice hoped she could be like someday, even though she had never told her so.
Her grandmother had been positively ecstatic at the thought of having her daughter and granddaughter live with her, especially since Alice’s grandfather passed on at a relatively early age. A kind, loving if overly doting matriarch who loved Alice dearly, her grandmother had always watched out for her, always cared for her and practically raised her. She had been a constant source of support in her worst moments and always there to share the best. She had introduced her to many of her favourite things and had an undeniably large influence on Alice growing up. While Alice would say she loved her mother the most, she was undoubtedly closer to her grandmother.
These were the people who she feared might have seen her kill two people. They were who she failed every time she so much as picked up her crossbow. Maybe that had something to do with her feelings, or lack of them, towards the thought of going home.
Alice glanced over at Jackson, noting that he still seemed to be wrapped up in his thoughts of home and therefore probably didn’t see the fresh tears finally forming at the corners of her eyes. Just as she thought she had finally run out, it was almost a relief to know this game hadn’t drained her of everything just yet.
Hastily wiping her eyes Alice turned her head away from her teammate, pushing off from the ground to stand up on shaky legs. Grabbing onto the edge of the counter and using it to support herself she was able to regain her feet. Looking down at Jackson she tried not to let her painful thoughts show on her face.
“I-I need to get some fresh air. Be… be alone for a while.” Leaving her bag behind she reached for her crossbow on the counter, hesitating slightly as she thought of her family, before grabbing it anyway. “B-be right back.”
She walked swiftly towards the large lobby doors, not looking back or giving Jackson any indication to follow her or chance to stop her. Once outside she walked to the side of the doors so that she couldn’t be seen through the glass and leaned heavily against the brickwork, already breathing hard from the stress of her escape.
Like she had done against the counter inside she began to slide down the wall, this time stopping herself before she got too far because she didn’t want to take a seat in the snow. With her knees bent and her head bowed she was practically bent double, tears silently falling down her cheeks, stifling any sobs before they could be heard either by Jackson or by anyone else who might be lurking around. She didn’t want Jackson to see her cry, as she knew she would as soon as she started to think about her family.
She missed them. Yet thinking about them only caused her pain rather than give her a goal to keep fighting for and there wasn’t much else besides her mother and grandmother she wanted to get back to. She just didn’t seem to have those things Jackson thought everyone had.
Alice had no friends to speak of, not any more, not recently. Her school life was spent trying to avoid the notice of other people for the most part, her social life was none-existent and she spent most of her time alone. Even though she was a fairly avid gamer she avoided online gaming entirely, not even interacting with people through the veil of the internet.
She loved her books of course, her overflowing bookshelf of old classics and beloved novels back in her bedroom, but reading had always been about escapism for her. It was about immersing herself in another world so she didn’t have to deal with the problems of this one. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you fought to get back to.
She had enjoyed school in a sense but even if she could go back it would be a challenge and a nightmare she couldn’t imagine before all of this began. Avoiding notice would be impossible after her time spent in the spotlight of SOTF. She would be hounded, people trying to talk to her, ask her questions, never leaving her alone. Worst of all would be the people who would judge her, their accusing eyes following her wherever she went and never letting her forget what she had done.
Unlike Jackson, unlike most people, there wasn’t much for Alice to miss in her old life. She couldn’t describe herself as a happy person. She spent most of her time worried, scared and stressed; just trying to gett through the day with a minimal amount of mental strain. A day where nothing happened was considered a good day.
There were time were she was content, spending time with her family, reading or playing her games, but content didn’t necessarily mean happy and those moments were only brief anyway. Maybe that was why the idea of going home didn’t make her feel any better. Because even though it was better than here it wouldn’t be any better than before. If anything it would be worse.
Even so, her family, her amazing family would make it worth surviving if she could get back to them. This thought, the thought of returning home and reuniting with her family, that should have been reassuring, only made the dread solidify in her stomach like a ball of lead.
What if her family didn’t welcome her back?
It was an incomprehensible thought. She knew her family better than to think they would turn their backs on her, but… irrational fear never needed to make sense to be terrifying.
If they had been watching her this whole time then they would have seen everything she had done. They would have seen her shoot that girl in the leg and stab that boy to death; they would have seen her stagger, bloody, away from that grizzly scene. They would have been privy to every bad decision, every mistake, every time she pointed a weapon at someone and bit by bit gave up on trying to be a good person and started thinking only of survival.
She wasn’t proud of the things she had done here, she knew her family wouldn’t be either. Would they really just accept her back? What would she do if her grandmother, who had always despised this show, slammed the door in her murderer granddaughter’s face? What would Alice do if she went home, only to find it empty?
She could picture all too vividly the scene, an overactive imagination working against her; Alice would push open the unlocked door to see a cold and lifeless house, all personal items such as pictures gone, the only sign of her family she could find a note on the dining room table with a short and simple message. ‘Don’t try to find us’.
Suddenly dizzy, Alice straightened and pushed away from the wall, staggering a few steps away from the theatre before finding her stride. She continued to walk, further and further away from the theatre doors, clutching a hand to her forehead, fingers threading through strands of hair as she fought to keep down the rising panic.
Tears fell faster. Her family was all she had to go back to and the idea that she wouldn’t even have that if she made it out of here was enough, as unrealistic as it was, to break any resolve she had managed to hold on to this long.
Why? What was the point? What was the point in continuing to struggle when all that would happen in the end was her being taken away from this hell and put in a new one? Let other people keep fighting; let them leave Alice where she was. People like Jackson had reasons to go home, things they were certain about. Alice didn’t know if the one thing she did have would still be there anymore.
Alice stopped walking and dropped to her knees, sinking into the snow and soaking her jeans from ankle to knee. She had managed to wander quite far from the theatre now, maybe a couple hundred feet, but that didn’t concern her right now.
She still held her crossbow and now clutched it to her chest. She wrapped both arms around the body of the weapon and just pressed it against herself, holding it like a small child would a teddy bear. The butt of the weapon rested on her thighs and the loaded arrow was positioned under her chin.
Maybe her family hadn’t seen anything; maybe they couldn’t stand to watch. Maybe they had seen but would be able to forgive her anyway; maybe they wouldn’t.
Maybe it was better not to find out one way or another.
“I’m sorry. Mom, grandma, I know you raised me better than this.” Alice leaned her head forward, tucking her chin down closer to her collar to whisper into the microphone. “I know I must have hurt you, doing the things I did. I was so stupid, this whole time. I made so many mistakes.” One of her hands moved, thumb slipping into the trigger guard of the crossbow. She raised her head and craned her neck forward, ensuring the arrow would hit its mark. “This is a mistake to. But I promise, it’s the last one I’ll make.”
…
…
…
She removed her thumb from the trigger.
Angrily, she grabbed the crossbow with both hands, hefted it above her head and tossed it out into the snow. She fell forward, ending up on all fours. Her head was bowed towards the ground and her hair hung down over her face, long brown tresses trailing along the ground. She curled her hands into fists and thrashed them against the ground, pounding the fresh powdered snow into slush until her hands hurt.
“Why am I such a coward?”
Too scared to fight, too scared to give up, too scared to run or hide. What did she want to do? What could she do without messing up or giving in? What did she want, really?
There was no answer to that. Alice didn’t know what she wanted and there was nothing she could do.
…
She was cold. She wanted to go inside again. At least she knew that much. And she could probably manage it without messing up or giving in half way.
Alice pushed off the ground, sweeping her hair back out of her face with a damp hand, and sat back on her haunches again. How long had she been out here? Jackson hadn’t come looking for her yet, so probably not that long.
Looking to where her crossbow had landed, Alice let out a sigh. She had actually managed to throw it pretty far. Pulling one leg out from under her she began to rise from the ground to retrieve it.
When she felt something jab her in the back with enough force to push her to the ground, it took a moment for the pain to register. She lay on her stomach, something piercing her back. An indescribably sharp, burning pain lanced through her abdomen and spread through the rest of her torso; so intense and so sudden that she couldn’t even scream. The air was driven from her lungs and despite the huge gasps she was making couldn’t fill them again.
Confused, shocked, she tried to turn her head to look over her shoulder, to see what was happening, and the pain intensified tenfold and nearly stole her consciousness from her. Through bleary, darkening eyes she could just make out a figure. They held something long in their hands. She… she couldn’t see they’re face.
Who… no, wh-why now… no.
Alice turned away again and moved her arms, trying to pull herself forward. Her legs wouldn’t respond when she tried to move them, she couldn’t feel anything from the waist down at all, and when she scrabbled at the ground in front of her all she was doing was pulling back handfuls of fresh snow.
The thing in her back was pulled free and Alice yelped at the burst of pain. She felt fainter now, surely losing a lot of blood but she couldn’t focus on that now. She couldn’t focus on anything. She just had one idea in mind, a goal from before… before this.
If I… the cross-crossbow. Get to the… bow.
She heard the crunch of snow, saw the tip of a shoe out of the corner of her eye, and heard rather than felt the spear pierce her heart through her back.
Alice Young – GH2 - Deceased
It sounded as if Jackson had left a lot of things behind when he was taken into this game and from the sad smile and hitch in his voice it was apparent that he was missing all of them. She felt a little bad about asking him about them and bringing up these reminders of his life before all this, but she needed to understand something and was hoping his answer would enlighten her.
In his answer Jackson had mentioned things that ‘every kid on here wishes they could get back to’, the kind of things they associated with home and the things that made life enjoyable for them. Family, friends, the people important to them. Hobbies, past times, maybe even jobs.
When Alice looked inside herself to find that part of her that yearned to get back to her old life, to her family and her books and her whatever else… she was surprised to find that it wasn’t really there. And she didn’t understand why.
It was not because there was nothing she cared about back home, far from it. She adored her family. Her mother and grandmother were her entire world. The idea that they might be watching, like Jackson worried about the kids he played guitar for, broke her heart.
Her mother had given up so much, including her relationship with Alice’s father, just to be able to have her. She moved back home with her mother so Alice could be raised by family, even if it meant she had to commute hours each day to her job in another city. A caring, hardworking person who still managed to find as much time as possible to spent with her daughter, who Alice hoped she could be like someday, even though she had never told her so.
Her grandmother had been positively ecstatic at the thought of having her daughter and granddaughter live with her, especially since Alice’s grandfather passed on at a relatively early age. A kind, loving if overly doting matriarch who loved Alice dearly, her grandmother had always watched out for her, always cared for her and practically raised her. She had been a constant source of support in her worst moments and always there to share the best. She had introduced her to many of her favourite things and had an undeniably large influence on Alice growing up. While Alice would say she loved her mother the most, she was undoubtedly closer to her grandmother.
These were the people who she feared might have seen her kill two people. They were who she failed every time she so much as picked up her crossbow. Maybe that had something to do with her feelings, or lack of them, towards the thought of going home.
Alice glanced over at Jackson, noting that he still seemed to be wrapped up in his thoughts of home and therefore probably didn’t see the fresh tears finally forming at the corners of her eyes. Just as she thought she had finally run out, it was almost a relief to know this game hadn’t drained her of everything just yet.
Hastily wiping her eyes Alice turned her head away from her teammate, pushing off from the ground to stand up on shaky legs. Grabbing onto the edge of the counter and using it to support herself she was able to regain her feet. Looking down at Jackson she tried not to let her painful thoughts show on her face.
“I-I need to get some fresh air. Be… be alone for a while.” Leaving her bag behind she reached for her crossbow on the counter, hesitating slightly as she thought of her family, before grabbing it anyway. “B-be right back.”
She walked swiftly towards the large lobby doors, not looking back or giving Jackson any indication to follow her or chance to stop her. Once outside she walked to the side of the doors so that she couldn’t be seen through the glass and leaned heavily against the brickwork, already breathing hard from the stress of her escape.
Like she had done against the counter inside she began to slide down the wall, this time stopping herself before she got too far because she didn’t want to take a seat in the snow. With her knees bent and her head bowed she was practically bent double, tears silently falling down her cheeks, stifling any sobs before they could be heard either by Jackson or by anyone else who might be lurking around. She didn’t want Jackson to see her cry, as she knew she would as soon as she started to think about her family.
She missed them. Yet thinking about them only caused her pain rather than give her a goal to keep fighting for and there wasn’t much else besides her mother and grandmother she wanted to get back to. She just didn’t seem to have those things Jackson thought everyone had.
Alice had no friends to speak of, not any more, not recently. Her school life was spent trying to avoid the notice of other people for the most part, her social life was none-existent and she spent most of her time alone. Even though she was a fairly avid gamer she avoided online gaming entirely, not even interacting with people through the veil of the internet.
She loved her books of course, her overflowing bookshelf of old classics and beloved novels back in her bedroom, but reading had always been about escapism for her. It was about immersing herself in another world so she didn’t have to deal with the problems of this one. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing you fought to get back to.
She had enjoyed school in a sense but even if she could go back it would be a challenge and a nightmare she couldn’t imagine before all of this began. Avoiding notice would be impossible after her time spent in the spotlight of SOTF. She would be hounded, people trying to talk to her, ask her questions, never leaving her alone. Worst of all would be the people who would judge her, their accusing eyes following her wherever she went and never letting her forget what she had done.
Unlike Jackson, unlike most people, there wasn’t much for Alice to miss in her old life. She couldn’t describe herself as a happy person. She spent most of her time worried, scared and stressed; just trying to gett through the day with a minimal amount of mental strain. A day where nothing happened was considered a good day.
There were time were she was content, spending time with her family, reading or playing her games, but content didn’t necessarily mean happy and those moments were only brief anyway. Maybe that was why the idea of going home didn’t make her feel any better. Because even though it was better than here it wouldn’t be any better than before. If anything it would be worse.
Even so, her family, her amazing family would make it worth surviving if she could get back to them. This thought, the thought of returning home and reuniting with her family, that should have been reassuring, only made the dread solidify in her stomach like a ball of lead.
What if her family didn’t welcome her back?
It was an incomprehensible thought. She knew her family better than to think they would turn their backs on her, but… irrational fear never needed to make sense to be terrifying.
If they had been watching her this whole time then they would have seen everything she had done. They would have seen her shoot that girl in the leg and stab that boy to death; they would have seen her stagger, bloody, away from that grizzly scene. They would have been privy to every bad decision, every mistake, every time she pointed a weapon at someone and bit by bit gave up on trying to be a good person and started thinking only of survival.
She wasn’t proud of the things she had done here, she knew her family wouldn’t be either. Would they really just accept her back? What would she do if her grandmother, who had always despised this show, slammed the door in her murderer granddaughter’s face? What would Alice do if she went home, only to find it empty?
She could picture all too vividly the scene, an overactive imagination working against her; Alice would push open the unlocked door to see a cold and lifeless house, all personal items such as pictures gone, the only sign of her family she could find a note on the dining room table with a short and simple message. ‘Don’t try to find us’.
Suddenly dizzy, Alice straightened and pushed away from the wall, staggering a few steps away from the theatre before finding her stride. She continued to walk, further and further away from the theatre doors, clutching a hand to her forehead, fingers threading through strands of hair as she fought to keep down the rising panic.
Tears fell faster. Her family was all she had to go back to and the idea that she wouldn’t even have that if she made it out of here was enough, as unrealistic as it was, to break any resolve she had managed to hold on to this long.
Why? What was the point? What was the point in continuing to struggle when all that would happen in the end was her being taken away from this hell and put in a new one? Let other people keep fighting; let them leave Alice where she was. People like Jackson had reasons to go home, things they were certain about. Alice didn’t know if the one thing she did have would still be there anymore.
Alice stopped walking and dropped to her knees, sinking into the snow and soaking her jeans from ankle to knee. She had managed to wander quite far from the theatre now, maybe a couple hundred feet, but that didn’t concern her right now.
She still held her crossbow and now clutched it to her chest. She wrapped both arms around the body of the weapon and just pressed it against herself, holding it like a small child would a teddy bear. The butt of the weapon rested on her thighs and the loaded arrow was positioned under her chin.
Maybe her family hadn’t seen anything; maybe they couldn’t stand to watch. Maybe they had seen but would be able to forgive her anyway; maybe they wouldn’t.
Maybe it was better not to find out one way or another.
“I’m sorry. Mom, grandma, I know you raised me better than this.” Alice leaned her head forward, tucking her chin down closer to her collar to whisper into the microphone. “I know I must have hurt you, doing the things I did. I was so stupid, this whole time. I made so many mistakes.” One of her hands moved, thumb slipping into the trigger guard of the crossbow. She raised her head and craned her neck forward, ensuring the arrow would hit its mark. “This is a mistake to. But I promise, it’s the last one I’ll make.”
…
…
…
She removed her thumb from the trigger.
Angrily, she grabbed the crossbow with both hands, hefted it above her head and tossed it out into the snow. She fell forward, ending up on all fours. Her head was bowed towards the ground and her hair hung down over her face, long brown tresses trailing along the ground. She curled her hands into fists and thrashed them against the ground, pounding the fresh powdered snow into slush until her hands hurt.
“Why am I such a coward?”
Too scared to fight, too scared to give up, too scared to run or hide. What did she want to do? What could she do without messing up or giving in? What did she want, really?
There was no answer to that. Alice didn’t know what she wanted and there was nothing she could do.
…
She was cold. She wanted to go inside again. At least she knew that much. And she could probably manage it without messing up or giving in half way.
Alice pushed off the ground, sweeping her hair back out of her face with a damp hand, and sat back on her haunches again. How long had she been out here? Jackson hadn’t come looking for her yet, so probably not that long.
Looking to where her crossbow had landed, Alice let out a sigh. She had actually managed to throw it pretty far. Pulling one leg out from under her she began to rise from the ground to retrieve it.
When she felt something jab her in the back with enough force to push her to the ground, it took a moment for the pain to register. She lay on her stomach, something piercing her back. An indescribably sharp, burning pain lanced through her abdomen and spread through the rest of her torso; so intense and so sudden that she couldn’t even scream. The air was driven from her lungs and despite the huge gasps she was making couldn’t fill them again.
Confused, shocked, she tried to turn her head to look over her shoulder, to see what was happening, and the pain intensified tenfold and nearly stole her consciousness from her. Through bleary, darkening eyes she could just make out a figure. They held something long in their hands. She… she couldn’t see they’re face.
Who… no, wh-why now… no.
Alice turned away again and moved her arms, trying to pull herself forward. Her legs wouldn’t respond when she tried to move them, she couldn’t feel anything from the waist down at all, and when she scrabbled at the ground in front of her all she was doing was pulling back handfuls of fresh snow.
The thing in her back was pulled free and Alice yelped at the burst of pain. She felt fainter now, surely losing a lot of blood but she couldn’t focus on that now. She couldn’t focus on anything. She just had one idea in mind, a goal from before… before this.
If I… the cross-crossbow. Get to the… bow.
She heard the crunch of snow, saw the tip of a shoe out of the corner of her eye, and heard rather than felt the spear pierce her heart through her back.
Alice Young – GH2 - Deceased
Alice asked to be left alone, and Jackson didn't stop her. A little bit of alone time seemed a decent idea. Just to gather themselves before they went headlong into what was next. He kept his position, head down, hat shading his eyes. Someone looking in might have thought him asleep.
His eyes were open, letting memories of library jam sessions fill them. He shook his head. The kids. The goddamn kids.
Some time passed, and complacency for his companion gave way to worry. He hadn't thought she would be in much trouble just being outside. But it had been awhile.
Jackson pushed himself off the wall, gripping his pistol in both hands
His eyes were open, letting memories of library jam sessions fill them. He shook his head. The kids. The goddamn kids.
Some time passed, and complacency for his companion gave way to worry. He hadn't thought she would be in much trouble just being outside. But it had been awhile.
Jackson pushed himself off the wall, gripping his pistol in both hands
((Cathryn Bailey continues from Stuck in the Middle with You))
Cathryn retched as she pulled the spear out of the girl's heart, as the spear made a wet, ripping sound. Tears dripped out from the corners of her eyes as she fell towards the ground, her hands scrabbling for purchase, for a grip on the cold, wet snow just like the girl had done a few moments ago- oh god. She retched again.
It wasn't even supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be perfect. A girl she didn't know, whose face she didn't even see. A faceless entity, devoid of personality, without a known story, or feelings, or any reason whatsoever for Cathryn's mercy.
Prey.
So why couldn't she do it without all this? Maybe it was, after the deed was done, because she realized that this victim had a personality, a name, and that she knew all about it. Alice Young, from Whittree, a wallflower just like Cathryn, another friend that could have been, could have been, another Nina, another Leah, one she never needed. Or maybe it was that red, like Naomi's red, staining what used to be so white, spreading slowly. Or maybe it was those hands gripping for something just a few inches from her grasp, the bow that Cathryn was starting to retrieve now.
But after leaving the salon, after recovering from the shock of Norma's bite and pausing for a short breather, she hadn't had so much doubt. Cathryn had been so brave, because she had a fatal weapon in her hands. One that was supposed to kill on the first blow. And she'd been so happy, even laughing to herself about it. Cathryn's finger bled as soon as it started tracing the blade. Perfect.
So, what went wrong? Maybe she hadn't been so doubtless after all. Maybe subconsciously, she felt the slightest twinge of guilt at this, maybe she remembered Nina or Leah once more, and so her hand tried pushing the blade away from her heart, and went towards her back instead. Or maybe she hadn't recovered enough from the bite, maybe it was her nerves.
Whatever the case, it wasn't enough. It had been a few too many ragged breaths, grasps of air, a few too many gasps. And as she plunged her blade into Alice's heart for the coup de grace, she felt her own heart and remembered it still existed. But if she could forget for the next day, and maybe the next, oh, only if.
Do you want to live, Cathryn? Do you want your life to end not on the screens, but in a quiet place, where you've spent your life somewhere away from Whittree? And she'd say yes a million times. And so she'd know what must be done, what must always be done.
She laid the crossbow down on the ground, and picked up the crossbow, shakily tracing her right hands around it. Her fingers went towards the blade of the crossbow, but then she pulled back. She'd learn her lesson this time, she would. Eleven shots left. Much better than the spear, much more distance could be afforded. Much less pain.
Cathryn had already started to walk away from the theater when the first bullets rang out.
Cathryn retched as she pulled the spear out of the girl's heart, as the spear made a wet, ripping sound. Tears dripped out from the corners of her eyes as she fell towards the ground, her hands scrabbling for purchase, for a grip on the cold, wet snow just like the girl had done a few moments ago- oh god. She retched again.
It wasn't even supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be perfect. A girl she didn't know, whose face she didn't even see. A faceless entity, devoid of personality, without a known story, or feelings, or any reason whatsoever for Cathryn's mercy.
Prey.
So why couldn't she do it without all this? Maybe it was, after the deed was done, because she realized that this victim had a personality, a name, and that she knew all about it. Alice Young, from Whittree, a wallflower just like Cathryn, another friend that could have been, could have been, another Nina, another Leah, one she never needed. Or maybe it was that red, like Naomi's red, staining what used to be so white, spreading slowly. Or maybe it was those hands gripping for something just a few inches from her grasp, the bow that Cathryn was starting to retrieve now.
But after leaving the salon, after recovering from the shock of Norma's bite and pausing for a short breather, she hadn't had so much doubt. Cathryn had been so brave, because she had a fatal weapon in her hands. One that was supposed to kill on the first blow. And she'd been so happy, even laughing to herself about it. Cathryn's finger bled as soon as it started tracing the blade. Perfect.
So, what went wrong? Maybe she hadn't been so doubtless after all. Maybe subconsciously, she felt the slightest twinge of guilt at this, maybe she remembered Nina or Leah once more, and so her hand tried pushing the blade away from her heart, and went towards her back instead. Or maybe she hadn't recovered enough from the bite, maybe it was her nerves.
Whatever the case, it wasn't enough. It had been a few too many ragged breaths, grasps of air, a few too many gasps. And as she plunged her blade into Alice's heart for the coup de grace, she felt her own heart and remembered it still existed. But if she could forget for the next day, and maybe the next, oh, only if.
Do you want to live, Cathryn? Do you want your life to end not on the screens, but in a quiet place, where you've spent your life somewhere away from Whittree? And she'd say yes a million times. And so she'd know what must be done, what must always be done.
She laid the crossbow down on the ground, and picked up the crossbow, shakily tracing her right hands around it. Her fingers went towards the blade of the crossbow, but then she pulled back. She'd learn her lesson this time, she would. Eleven shots left. Much better than the spear, much more distance could be afforded. Much less pain.
Cathryn had already started to walk away from the theater when the first bullets rang out.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Jackson had been shocked into silence. Just as well. The pistol coughed and grunted at his behest, saying all that needed to be said.
Part of his better intentions might have died back in the theater with Vahka. But here, seeing what should have been someone who he could trust to be on his side done in just like that, and by someone he thought might have been ok, had snapped something. This is why the bullets came before the diplomacy, before the talking that had failed him time and again.
He kept squeezing the trigger and firing, not taking time to aim or compensate for the kick. He only wanted everything to go away.
Part of his better intentions might have died back in the theater with Vahka. But here, seeing what should have been someone who he could trust to be on his side done in just like that, and by someone he thought might have been ok, had snapped something. This is why the bullets came before the diplomacy, before the talking that had failed him time and again.
He kept squeezing the trigger and firing, not taking time to aim or compensate for the kick. He only wanted everything to go away.
The world was exploding, the silence, muted footsteps, and breaths replaced by ricochets and claps and booms, and the snow puffing up into the air in little plumes and clouds. Cathryn tried running, but the bullets, they came from everywhere, it seemed. Her heart made itself known once more as it slammed against the wall of her chest. She tried picking up her speed, her feet pounding the ground as she struggled to get as much distance as possible.
Everything in her told her not to look back, to just get out. She'd become a pillar of salt, she'd become another Orpheus. Terror raged inside her, warned her that she was powerless against whoever it was. She had a blade, and they had a gun. To look back would be her doom. But it was just the coward in her speaking, Cathryn said, the coward she'd been trying to smother for so long. She was supposed to be fearless, to be feared. So, she looked, and her gaze focused on the distance, on that shadow of a building, and saw an old, familiar, but unwanted face. The face of vengeance, of ghosts past. The face of Jackson.
And then the bullets pierced her flesh, and she fell towards the ground.
Everything in her told her not to look back, to just get out. She'd become a pillar of salt, she'd become another Orpheus. Terror raged inside her, warned her that she was powerless against whoever it was. She had a blade, and they had a gun. To look back would be her doom. But it was just the coward in her speaking, Cathryn said, the coward she'd been trying to smother for so long. She was supposed to be fearless, to be feared. So, she looked, and her gaze focused on the distance, on that shadow of a building, and saw an old, familiar, but unwanted face. The face of vengeance, of ghosts past. The face of Jackson.
And then the bullets pierced her flesh, and she fell towards the ground.
SC3:
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021
Matias Juarez is fed up. He is currently walking home.
Pregame: now that you are broken by the seas, in the depths of the waters,
Memories: Vamô Detonar essa Porra!
Diego Larrosa is lost. pls give my kids friends tv3 version
Stephanie's Cuckaneers Today at 12:29 AM
maraoone was a mistake - cicada 2021