It looked like things were settled. Jon wasn't going to kill Brendan, Brendan wasn't going to kill Jon, and a truce had been made. However, it looked like just Alba and Brendan would be going out to find Ty. Alba would have protested, but she could see Brendan agreed with it. She had no idea what was in store, or if this would be a good idea or not. However, the boys seemed set on this, so Alba went along with Brendan.
"Yeah, let's go," she said to Brendan.
As they started to walk, she turned back to Jon.
"Please be careful," she said.
As they walked away, Alba patted Brendan on the back.
"You did well. I'm really proud of you."
She smiled a bit. Maybe this was the moment things would turn around for them.
((Alba Reyes continued in This Is The End Of His Story))
The Ones You Trust
Jon noted that he would have to meet the two at the bridge. He'd head up there first chance he had, but there was something he was planning to do here, before he even seen them come.
Jon bent over and picked up his rifle again, uncoiling the sheet that was tangled around it when it fell, putting it back around his shoulders.
Two of them.
Two bedsheets,
Two people he needed to cover.
Jon looked up the hill at the first corpse.
As he walked over to Amanda he tried to think of what to say.
You shouldn't gotten involved...
This could've been avoided...
You should have let me die...
Those were the first things that came to mind. They weren't necessarily the nicest things, but they were the most honest.
He started placing the sheet on her, starting from the legs and bringing it up.
I fucked up...
Your death was senseless...
It was you or Brendan...
He finished covering her, and he still had no idea what to say. He knew he was responsible for it, but he couldn't help trying to find a way to shift the blame. He wanted to be respectful, maybe give an apology to her family, something... He thought, and thought.
I'm... well... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did, and not the way I did it. I have to take responsibility for the atrocity I did, the senselessness of your death was on me, there's not much more I can say. I wish you would have left me to die, and I really wish you didn't get involved when I was after Brendan. None of this would have happened if you just stayed away. I don't know what to say to your family, I know they probably want me dead, and I wouldn't blame them... I just...
Jon just said nothing.
He moved to the other corpse.
As he got closer, he noticed something new.
There was a spear by him.
Who left this here? Why did they?
He sat down by Michael, and picked up the spear. It looked like some sort of jerry-rigged broomsti-.
Jerry.
Michael made a spear for Jerry. Brendan stole it when he ki-
Oh.
Brendan was telling the truth...
You killed Amanda for nothing.
You almost killed Brendan for nothing.
Good job.
Jon watched a lot of movies, and a lot of TV shows, he'd seen moments like these. The bad guy realizes they're the bad guy, and they break down sobbing, they go insane, or they end up killing themselves or something.
All Jon could do was utter a barely audible "Damn."
Jon laid the spear back down by Michael, and stared out at the lake.
What the fuck happened to his emotions? Within the last hour each moment he experienced should have hit harder and harder. He should have broken down by now, but he didn't. He was just here. The worst thing he was feeling right now was a knot in his throat.
He looked at Michael's corpse again. He moved over to cover it with the bed sheet. He started at the feet, and stopped at the shoulders.
"I... I didn't get Alex, but he's dead now, and I helped with it. I don't know if it would make you feel any better or not. You probably saw what I did to Amanda... I don't know what you think about it, but... it's my fault for what happened. I should have lost more than an eye... I'd give my other one to see you again."
Jon looked at the sky, thinking of another thing to say.
"I know you told me to give up, but it's too late for it now. I don't know why, there's nothing back home for me. Everyone's gonna want me dead, and even if my parents want me back, I won't be able to. Their Jon's gone, what would come back would be nothing but some machine that vaguely looks like him... I don't know. I just hope someone kills me soon, because I can't do it myself. Probably wouldn't do it right if I tried anyways."
"To be honest, I hope the worst person on this island wins. I want to see them go home, and live their life rejected. I can't see someone good making it out of here. Nobody can cope with this."
Jon thought about Brendan and Alba. One of them's going to die eventually, and the other's going to be destroyed mentally. The survivor will be like him. Jon didn't want to see it happen, but he knew it would.
He reached over, and covered Michael's face with the bed sheet.
"I'm gonna try and help Brendan and Alba. They don't deserve what happened to us. Maybe I might get lucky and take a bullet for one of them."
Jon got up and walked away. He stopped and turned around.
He could have swore he heard something.
See you soon.
((Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere.))
Jon bent over and picked up his rifle again, uncoiling the sheet that was tangled around it when it fell, putting it back around his shoulders.
Two of them.
Two bedsheets,
Two people he needed to cover.
Jon looked up the hill at the first corpse.
As he walked over to Amanda he tried to think of what to say.
You shouldn't gotten involved...
This could've been avoided...
You should have let me die...
Those were the first things that came to mind. They weren't necessarily the nicest things, but they were the most honest.
He started placing the sheet on her, starting from the legs and bringing it up.
I fucked up...
Your death was senseless...
It was you or Brendan...
He finished covering her, and he still had no idea what to say. He knew he was responsible for it, but he couldn't help trying to find a way to shift the blame. He wanted to be respectful, maybe give an apology to her family, something... He thought, and thought.
I'm... well... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did, and not the way I did it. I have to take responsibility for the atrocity I did, the senselessness of your death was on me, there's not much more I can say. I wish you would have left me to die, and I really wish you didn't get involved when I was after Brendan. None of this would have happened if you just stayed away. I don't know what to say to your family, I know they probably want me dead, and I wouldn't blame them... I just...
Jon just said nothing.
He moved to the other corpse.
As he got closer, he noticed something new.
There was a spear by him.
Who left this here? Why did they?
He sat down by Michael, and picked up the spear. It looked like some sort of jerry-rigged broomsti-.
Jerry.
Michael made a spear for Jerry. Brendan stole it when he ki-
Oh.
Brendan was telling the truth...
You killed Amanda for nothing.
You almost killed Brendan for nothing.
Good job.
Jon watched a lot of movies, and a lot of TV shows, he'd seen moments like these. The bad guy realizes they're the bad guy, and they break down sobbing, they go insane, or they end up killing themselves or something.
All Jon could do was utter a barely audible "Damn."
Jon laid the spear back down by Michael, and stared out at the lake.
What the fuck happened to his emotions? Within the last hour each moment he experienced should have hit harder and harder. He should have broken down by now, but he didn't. He was just here. The worst thing he was feeling right now was a knot in his throat.
He looked at Michael's corpse again. He moved over to cover it with the bed sheet. He started at the feet, and stopped at the shoulders.
"I... I didn't get Alex, but he's dead now, and I helped with it. I don't know if it would make you feel any better or not. You probably saw what I did to Amanda... I don't know what you think about it, but... it's my fault for what happened. I should have lost more than an eye... I'd give my other one to see you again."
Jon looked at the sky, thinking of another thing to say.
"I know you told me to give up, but it's too late for it now. I don't know why, there's nothing back home for me. Everyone's gonna want me dead, and even if my parents want me back, I won't be able to. Their Jon's gone, what would come back would be nothing but some machine that vaguely looks like him... I don't know. I just hope someone kills me soon, because I can't do it myself. Probably wouldn't do it right if I tried anyways."
"To be honest, I hope the worst person on this island wins. I want to see them go home, and live their life rejected. I can't see someone good making it out of here. Nobody can cope with this."
Jon thought about Brendan and Alba. One of them's going to die eventually, and the other's going to be destroyed mentally. The survivor will be like him. Jon didn't want to see it happen, but he knew it would.
He reached over, and covered Michael's face with the bed sheet.
"I'm gonna try and help Brendan and Alba. They don't deserve what happened to us. Maybe I might get lucky and take a bullet for one of them."
Jon got up and walked away. He stopped and turned around.
He could have swore he heard something.
See you soon.
((Jonathan Gulley continued elsewhere.))