On three, Ned wrapped his arms under the body’s knees and hoisted it up with all his strength. He wasn’t used to heavy lifting, but it was easier with the athletic Aurelien helping him. Actually, Ned never had to lift a corpse in his life, so, the difficulty was the body weight, but the fact that this body used to be a person. He felt disgusted having to touch his dead friend, but as long as she gets a proper resting spot for the sake of dignity, then perhaps it’s worth it.
Aurelien led them into the infirmary, then to one of the empty beds. With one final heave, they placed Violet’s body onto the bed, facing upward. Ned then left briefly to retrieve the emergency blanket, then came back. Violet’s arms were hanging off the sides of the bed.
“So, uh,” Ned turned his head to Aurelien, “maybe we should cross her arms over her chest. It’ll... look more dignified.”
Waking From One Nightmare into Another
B018: Ned Jackson- 
G039: Yuki Hayashibara- 
B034: Zachary Beck- 
“I, uh… yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”
He wasn’t quite looking at the body as he said that. Wasn’t quite looking at Ned, either. He’d been keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy the entire walk from the foyer to the main hospital room. The poor guy was probably seriously weirded out at this point, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate already. Best to drop the gaze, point it elsewhere.
He looked over his shoulder instead. His eyes were fixed on a corner of the room, looking but not seeing anything at all. Anything other than looking down, looking at the body, looking at… it. It had been bad enough with the blanket covering it. It had been almost unbearable, hearing the blood drip onto the floor as they carried it along the corridor.
He didn’t want to look back down. But he didn’t want to make Ned do it either. He’d been there as… in the aftermath. Dealt with it firsthand, lost something right in front of his eyes. So he closed his own eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly opened them and moved closer to the bed.
It was fine, for a moment. Just a body. His hands closed around its wrists, and as the deathly cold seeped into his fingertips, and he caught a glance of its face, he remembered it running into the room after he’d first woken up, of them all working together to drive back Tirzah, of how friendly and nice it had been, back at school, back when it had been Violet Quinn, the girl who had loved Princess McQuillan, and now he could do nothing but face the fact that she was dead.
Her arms were folded, and as soon as they were, Aurelen stepped back from the table, inches away from having toppled it over. It took him a second for him to realise how badly he was shaking. He closed his eyes again and tilted his head up, face pointing at the ceiling.
He hated just how scared, and how angry he was. Hated how he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that way, no matter how much he tried. It was hard, when he’d ended up in hell on earth. Hard when things had gone from bad, to okay, to much much worse. Hard, when every rash decision and dangerous scenario sent the adrenaline flooding through his body and tuned out all the shit surrounding him.
“What, uh…” Aurelien mumbled, still looking up to the ceiling, eyes open now. “What were you planning on doing next?”
He paused.
“I think it’d be… safer for you to be away from me for a while."
He wasn’t quite looking at the body as he said that. Wasn’t quite looking at Ned, either. He’d been keeping his eyes fixed on the other boy the entire walk from the foyer to the main hospital room. The poor guy was probably seriously weirded out at this point, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate already. Best to drop the gaze, point it elsewhere.
He looked over his shoulder instead. His eyes were fixed on a corner of the room, looking but not seeing anything at all. Anything other than looking down, looking at the body, looking at… it. It had been bad enough with the blanket covering it. It had been almost unbearable, hearing the blood drip onto the floor as they carried it along the corridor.
He didn’t want to look back down. But he didn’t want to make Ned do it either. He’d been there as… in the aftermath. Dealt with it firsthand, lost something right in front of his eyes. So he closed his own eyes, took a deep breath, then slowly opened them and moved closer to the bed.
It was fine, for a moment. Just a body. His hands closed around its wrists, and as the deathly cold seeped into his fingertips, and he caught a glance of its face, he remembered it running into the room after he’d first woken up, of them all working together to drive back Tirzah, of how friendly and nice it had been, back at school, back when it had been Violet Quinn, the girl who had loved Princess McQuillan, and now he could do nothing but face the fact that she was dead.
Her arms were folded, and as soon as they were, Aurelen stepped back from the table, inches away from having toppled it over. It took him a second for him to realise how badly he was shaking. He closed his eyes again and tilted his head up, face pointing at the ceiling.
He hated just how scared, and how angry he was. Hated how he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that way, no matter how much he tried. It was hard, when he’d ended up in hell on earth. Hard when things had gone from bad, to okay, to much much worse. Hard, when every rash decision and dangerous scenario sent the adrenaline flooding through his body and tuned out all the shit surrounding him.
“What, uh…” Aurelien mumbled, still looking up to the ceiling, eyes open now. “What were you planning on doing next?”
He paused.
“I think it’d be… safer for you to be away from me for a while."
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
After Violet’s hands were folded, Ned placed a blanket from one of the beds over her body. This way, the cameras wouldn’t record the decomposition. If Violet’s family were watching this, they could at least take solace in that she’d been given a proper place to rest, rather than being left on the floor of an abandoned building.
“Well, I’m not going to stay here,” Ned answered Aurelien, “I guess I’ll head out in the morning. Figured I’d do Violet a favor by finding her girlfriend, maybe help her out.”
Aurelien said it’d be safer if Ned stayed away from him for a while. Ned was about to object, but stopped himself short of talking back. The way Aurelien had reacted to Violet’s death, plus earlier when his friend Tirzah had pulled her gun on them, he surely must be torn up about all of it. He probably needs more time to process everything, get his emotions in check.
“You need some time alone? I understand,” Ned said. He grabbed his duffel bag and stood at the door of the infirmary.
“I’m gonna takeover watch duty. I’ll be up front.”
Ned, with his bag in tow, began to make his way to the reception area.
...
In the morning, Ned was woken up by the sound of the announcements. He must have fallen asleep behind the reception desk, as he was using his duffel bag as a pillow. He wiped away some drool with his wrist.
Some watchman you are Ned.
There were some of classmates that Ned recognized that were named through the duration of the announcements. Tirzah’s name in particular came up early on, as she had indeed gone on to kill someone after she had been chased off. Aurelien was not going to be happy about that. Speaking of whom, Aurelien wasn’t in the infirmary anymore. He must have left in the middle of the night. Wherever he was, Ned at least hoped he’d be okay.
Beryl Mahelona, a good friend of his, had been killed as well. She was a nice girl, he’d do cartoon voices to make her laugh. Ned cupped his mouth in shock when he heard what happened to her.
A short time later, Violet’s death had been mentioned. He hated how Danya called the method of stabbing someone to death a “classic”, as if it were a genre of music or a movie. Treating people’s lives as if they were toys, these terrorists were monsters.
Also, apparently they reward one of the killers if they performed the best kill of the previous day. It was absolutely sickening to Ned. No matter what the incentive, rewarding murder was just wrong.
After picking himself off the floor, and having a breakfast of crackers and water, Ned grabbed his belongings and headed out the door.
(Ned Jackson, continued elsewhere...)
“Well, I’m not going to stay here,” Ned answered Aurelien, “I guess I’ll head out in the morning. Figured I’d do Violet a favor by finding her girlfriend, maybe help her out.”
Aurelien said it’d be safer if Ned stayed away from him for a while. Ned was about to object, but stopped himself short of talking back. The way Aurelien had reacted to Violet’s death, plus earlier when his friend Tirzah had pulled her gun on them, he surely must be torn up about all of it. He probably needs more time to process everything, get his emotions in check.
“You need some time alone? I understand,” Ned said. He grabbed his duffel bag and stood at the door of the infirmary.
“I’m gonna takeover watch duty. I’ll be up front.”
Ned, with his bag in tow, began to make his way to the reception area.
...
In the morning, Ned was woken up by the sound of the announcements. He must have fallen asleep behind the reception desk, as he was using his duffel bag as a pillow. He wiped away some drool with his wrist.
Some watchman you are Ned.
There were some of classmates that Ned recognized that were named through the duration of the announcements. Tirzah’s name in particular came up early on, as she had indeed gone on to kill someone after she had been chased off. Aurelien was not going to be happy about that. Speaking of whom, Aurelien wasn’t in the infirmary anymore. He must have left in the middle of the night. Wherever he was, Ned at least hoped he’d be okay.
Beryl Mahelona, a good friend of his, had been killed as well. She was a nice girl, he’d do cartoon voices to make her laugh. Ned cupped his mouth in shock when he heard what happened to her.
A short time later, Violet’s death had been mentioned. He hated how Danya called the method of stabbing someone to death a “classic”, as if it were a genre of music or a movie. Treating people’s lives as if they were toys, these terrorists were monsters.
Also, apparently they reward one of the killers if they performed the best kill of the previous day. It was absolutely sickening to Ned. No matter what the incentive, rewarding murder was just wrong.
After picking himself off the floor, and having a breakfast of crackers and water, Ned grabbed his belongings and headed out the door.
(Ned Jackson, continued elsewhere...)
Ned was close to getting the right idea, real close. Just a couple inches to the left of it. He needed more than just ‘some’ time alone. He needed all of it. For a good while, at the very least.
He thought about how badly he’d reacted to Violet’s death, both just now and back in the corridor when he’d first discovered her body. He’d tried to deny it was her, pretend it was just an empty vessel, a Jane Doe, imagine it was anybody but the person he’d been talking with a few hours beforehand, and then as soon as he couldn’t deny it any longer, he’d barely been able to restrain his emotions. He’d been inches away from killing Ned in unjust retaliation.
And all that for someone he hadn’t been especially close to before this.
He couldn’t stay with Ned. Couldn’t stay with anybody he was friendly with, or who just wanted to stay safe and out of harm. He wasn’t gonna, like, just turn tail and run the second he saw a friendly face. He’d help them out if they needed it, talk with them, make sure everything was okay. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t totally reckless. He wasn’t going to lash out the second anybody looked at him funny.
But the longer he stayed with someone, the greater the chances he would do something rash.
Aurelien waited for a long time after Ned had left the main infirmary room. Dark oranges turned darker still, and the last remnants of the sun’s light were snuffed out and replaced with the pale light of the moon. He was thankful for that. It would have been pitch black, otherwise, but now he could see the outlines of bedframes, and the lumpy objects on the ground that were his bags.
Slowly but surely, he started to move, getting up off of the bed he’d been sitting down on, walking as quietly as he could to his bags and scooping them up and onto his shoulder. Here came the tricky bit, the reason he’d waited until nightfall to leave. He padded softly over to the corridor leading to the main entrance, bathed in the same low, silvery light. He couldn’t see Ned anywhere, until he peered over the edge of the reception desk and saw his unconscious body, head resting on his duffel bag. Aurelien couldn’t help but smile as he knelt down, wrapping both hands around the handle of the mace.
“Good luck, dude,” he murmured, bending his knees, preparing to hoist the heavy metal bludgeon up. “Hope you find safety, wherever you end up.”
Slowly, careful not to get off balance and drop the mace again, he walked back up the corridor and into the infirmary. He shot one, final glance at the sheet covering what remained of Violet Quinn, before he shook his head, and left, following the path Jeremiah had trodden so very long ago.
((Aurelien Valter continued in I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles))
He thought about how badly he’d reacted to Violet’s death, both just now and back in the corridor when he’d first discovered her body. He’d tried to deny it was her, pretend it was just an empty vessel, a Jane Doe, imagine it was anybody but the person he’d been talking with a few hours beforehand, and then as soon as he couldn’t deny it any longer, he’d barely been able to restrain his emotions. He’d been inches away from killing Ned in unjust retaliation.
And all that for someone he hadn’t been especially close to before this.
He couldn’t stay with Ned. Couldn’t stay with anybody he was friendly with, or who just wanted to stay safe and out of harm. He wasn’t gonna, like, just turn tail and run the second he saw a friendly face. He’d help them out if they needed it, talk with them, make sure everything was okay. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t totally reckless. He wasn’t going to lash out the second anybody looked at him funny.
But the longer he stayed with someone, the greater the chances he would do something rash.
Aurelien waited for a long time after Ned had left the main infirmary room. Dark oranges turned darker still, and the last remnants of the sun’s light were snuffed out and replaced with the pale light of the moon. He was thankful for that. It would have been pitch black, otherwise, but now he could see the outlines of bedframes, and the lumpy objects on the ground that were his bags.
Slowly but surely, he started to move, getting up off of the bed he’d been sitting down on, walking as quietly as he could to his bags and scooping them up and onto his shoulder. Here came the tricky bit, the reason he’d waited until nightfall to leave. He padded softly over to the corridor leading to the main entrance, bathed in the same low, silvery light. He couldn’t see Ned anywhere, until he peered over the edge of the reception desk and saw his unconscious body, head resting on his duffel bag. Aurelien couldn’t help but smile as he knelt down, wrapping both hands around the handle of the mace.
“Good luck, dude,” he murmured, bending his knees, preparing to hoist the heavy metal bludgeon up. “Hope you find safety, wherever you end up.”
Slowly, careful not to get off balance and drop the mace again, he walked back up the corridor and into the infirmary. He shot one, final glance at the sheet covering what remained of Violet Quinn, before he shook his head, and left, following the path Jeremiah had trodden so very long ago.
((Aurelien Valter continued in I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles))
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017