Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night

[Espi]

((Gwen O'Connor' story continues from Reverie))

Gwen found herself by a beach of all places after running for so long. It had probably been hours; she'd run during announcements, run and run and run as long as she could and eventually she arrived at a beach.

Gwen had never been to a beach, and she'd certainly never run as far as she did today. It was getting late in afternoon, it seemed, or close to it based on the position of the sun. She'd staggered, dropped her bag and slumped to the sand.

She sat and gazed blankly at the waves gently rolling onto shore for a while before she could breathe and think again.

There was a lot to consider. For starters, Michelle's plan was a complete failure. Gwen wished that wasn't true, but this game was never going to end peacefully. Too many people, from Theodore to Hansel to now Kammy, Eliza, Katarina, and so many others to come, would keep killing, just for a shot home. Most would fail, but that glimmer of hope kept them killing, so they were never going to be dissuaded.

Gwen had heard the announcements hours ago. More people were dead, but nobody she really knew, so in a way it didn't matter much to her anymore; they were just names, barely even faces anymore. Which was disturbing; how could someone like her, who cried when she saw those poor cats and dogs on the animal shelter commercials, suddenly not care about people who were being slaughtered?

Gwen didn't want to think about it too hard, but she knew better than to pretend she wasn't changing. It was impossible to not change in this situation, and Gwen was probably hardening already.

It was scary to think that.

Still, it was better to think that than to think of her friends. Eliza was probably still in the hospital, Michelle was wounded, and Maynard, Adam and Virgil were sound asleep and defenseless and-

"Shut up!" She gasped, and began sobbing. She sobbed because she knew, she knew they could be dead, Michelle abandoned and bleeding alone in the dark, and Maynard, poor sweet Maynard, dead by her hands because even though Gwen had not harmed him she'd left him helpless with a killer and if he died it might as well be all

her

fault.

Gwen was a killer, a murderer by inaction, guilty of manslaughter for abandoning the only people she'd been with, friends with, trusted, cared about, on the island. Left them to die. She couldn't be strong when it counted and that was absolutely detestable.

Gwen sat for a while, sniffling and gasping for air and periodically bursting into fits of sobbing. She couldn't handle the stress anymore, the guilt on top was just too much, and she couldn't hold it back anymore.

It took some time, but eventually she'd recovered enough to function. She stood up, rubbed her eyes and wiped tears from her cheeks, leaving smears of the remnants of her eye makeup. She wanted food, and she needed to check her supplies. Rooting through her bag, Gwen determined she had four ration bars, a loaf of bread and a tin of crackers, as well as two water bottles. That was fairly good, she supposed.

The bread loaf was dry but satisfying.

As she ate, Gwen looked out to sea again. She needed to do something, she couldn't just wander aimlessly. That would just be a waste of time. Like at home, she'd wasted so much time, and she wasn't going to waste it now that there was so little left. So what could she do? She had so few options. What could she do?

She could find Maynard, if he was still alive. The second it came to her, Gwen knew that was her new goal. Nothing could be more important to her than finding him,

She...cared about him, more than anyone else on the island anymore. She couldn't let anyone hurt him.

So she stood, her daypack over her right shoulder, and she walked away from the sea and the setting sun with grim determination on her face. She had nothing left to do on this island but find her...find Maynard. Throw out, just throw out everything she'd known before, all those experiences and events in her past and just focus on the goal, orient herself towards the thing she desperately needed to do.

Find Maynard Hurst one more time.

God help anyone who tried to stop her.

((Gwen O'Connor's story continues in Face The Sky))