Footsteps in the sand. A lone path, friends left behind or left for dead.
Her anger, derived by sight, insulated by a lack of expression.
She had arrived, finally.
((Coleen Reagan, continued from Empyrean))
Alessio and another boy were talking. The name of the other boy wasn't important; Coleen hardly even afforded him a look other than to determine that thanks to the way the two were positioned in their apparently heated discussion, Alessio's back was towards her. And even though for the moment she couldn't see his face, the sight of him turned away over the scene of a crime was eternally burned into her vision. She would never let it go, not even once he was dead.
The AK-47 had been nestled in her arms for the better part of her travels. Just as planned, she switched the spear out for the more practical weapon the moment the docks were out of sight, so Kimiko couldn't possibly have interpreted the action as a threat and grown hostile and caused the both of them trouble. In her hands, this gun had taken one life. It took the wrong life.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.
"There's something..."
She raised her voice.
"There's something I want to know too!" Coleen shouted at the back of Alessio's head. By all rights, she had him. All she had to do was raise her gun and pull the trigger. He would die. But it was not enough for Alessio to die. She needed to know. "Why do you think you can get away without talking about it? Why don't you want to face what you did?" As she ran over the hypothetical best case in her mind while prowling along the coastline, she imagined herself to be in better control of her emotions. Yet with every word, calm escaped her and was replaced by steadily increasing doses of passion. A vibrato entered her voice and she knew her jaw was clenched tighter and tighter at the end of each sentence.
"Did you know? That you're the biggest fucking coward on this entire island?"
The gun raised.
I'm sorry, Enzo, her heart called out to the one companion she left behind before they could go and die on her. I didn't want you to see this. I didn't want you to see the person I'm becoming. If I make it back, I promise.
I promise I'll make this up to you somehow.
Waiting for the End
Es ist ein Garten des Blutes
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
"..."
The dialogue between him and Jon was interrupted by a third person joining. That was a good time to end the discussion. There was nothing else Alessio wanted to talk about. He did not want to reveal his anger, his frustration, his fury of Vanessa breaking his heart. It was nobody's business. Alessio pointed his flashlight at the person. Alessio did not expect to ever see the person again. Coleen with her AK, this time without Arthur. Arthur was dead.
Without thinking too much, Alessio grabbed the creature Emma had hunted and killed and threw it at Coleen with all the force he had in his arms. He ran towards her, almost falling because of the sandy ground not being solid enough.
He would not win a Mexican standoff, he had no arguments, no excuse for his actions. But he could win a real fight.
The dialogue between him and Jon was interrupted by a third person joining. That was a good time to end the discussion. There was nothing else Alessio wanted to talk about. He did not want to reveal his anger, his frustration, his fury of Vanessa breaking his heart. It was nobody's business. Alessio pointed his flashlight at the person. Alessio did not expect to ever see the person again. Coleen with her AK, this time without Arthur. Arthur was dead.
Without thinking too much, Alessio grabbed the creature Emma had hunted and killed and threw it at Coleen with all the force he had in his arms. He ran towards her, almost falling because of the sandy ground not being solid enough.
He would not win a Mexican standoff, he had no arguments, no excuse for his actions. But he could win a real fight.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Of course he wouldn't answer her. But to her, that only confirmed the point. Alessio had spent his time here on the island being a coward, and he was going to die like one. All she had to do was-
She noticed Alessio reaching for... something. She couldn't quite tell what it was at the ten or fifteen yards she was standing away, and initially thought the leathery, brown-or-charred looking object was a football or something. Her mind told her 'weapon' and she panicked, squeezing the trigger on the AK-47. The trigger had no give and dug into the back of her knuckle, and it was then that Coleen realized she had left the safety on.
"What the fuck!?" she yelped in surprise, her finger frantically flexing on the trigger of the rifle out of instinct to the same effect, or lack of one, as before. She held up the killing machine in her arms to block the whatever-it-was coming straight for her. It hit with less impact than she had been expecting and as it feel to the sand, Coleen saw that it looked to be a cooked chicken or something. She had no time to think about just where Alessio got food like that as by the time she had looked back up, Alessio was far too close.
She finally smacked the safety off with the base of her thumb and pulled the trigger, but it was too late.
History really did have this funny way of repeating itself.
She noticed Alessio reaching for... something. She couldn't quite tell what it was at the ten or fifteen yards she was standing away, and initially thought the leathery, brown-or-charred looking object was a football or something. Her mind told her 'weapon' and she panicked, squeezing the trigger on the AK-47. The trigger had no give and dug into the back of her knuckle, and it was then that Coleen realized she had left the safety on.
"What the fuck!?" she yelped in surprise, her finger frantically flexing on the trigger of the rifle out of instinct to the same effect, or lack of one, as before. She held up the killing machine in her arms to block the whatever-it-was coming straight for her. It hit with less impact than she had been expecting and as it feel to the sand, Coleen saw that it looked to be a cooked chicken or something. She had no time to think about just where Alessio got food like that as by the time she had looked back up, Alessio was far too close.
She finally smacked the safety off with the base of her thumb and pulled the trigger, but it was too late.
History really did have this funny way of repeating itself.
It was loud. Why are guns not quieter?
If Coleen had chosen to hit Alessio with the AK-47 instead of shooting, she might have not missed him. Mr. Prospector was too near to Coleen's body. And her head. Alessio with the flashlight in his hand hit Coleen's head with it. Flashlights did not prove to be that efficient, especially since Alessio felt weak and had no strength to smack her head hard enough. But it was enough that he repeated it several times. His other hand pulled Coleen's shirt. He tried to control her arm not having control of the gun anymore. The scuffle moved a bit more near to the fireplace.
So he used his flashlight to shine into her eyes, then used his free, yet broken, arm to grab Coleen to push her into the campfire. He dropped the flashlight to use both hands to shove her into fire like she was the Hag from Hansel and Gretel.
While running into the fire, the sand finally also made Alessio lose balance, so both Coleen and him felt warmer after falling to the ground together.
If Coleen had chosen to hit Alessio with the AK-47 instead of shooting, she might have not missed him. Mr. Prospector was too near to Coleen's body. And her head. Alessio with the flashlight in his hand hit Coleen's head with it. Flashlights did not prove to be that efficient, especially since Alessio felt weak and had no strength to smack her head hard enough. But it was enough that he repeated it several times. His other hand pulled Coleen's shirt. He tried to control her arm not having control of the gun anymore. The scuffle moved a bit more near to the fireplace.
So he used his flashlight to shine into her eyes, then used his free, yet broken, arm to grab Coleen to push her into the campfire. He dropped the flashlight to use both hands to shove her into fire like she was the Hag from Hansel and Gretel.
While running into the fire, the sand finally also made Alessio lose balance, so both Coleen and him felt warmer after falling to the ground together.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
One hand had come off the gun. Alessio's strikes didn't have a tremendous amount of force behind them but the flashlight was hard and the shell struck her near the eye. Coleen recoiled from the pain and blocked the blows with her forearm the best she could.
Her eyes closed reflexively from the pain. She'd been thrown off her footing and the two of them going were going somewhere she couldn't see. Something pulled at her blouse which only amplified that blind, claustrophobic feeling of being unable to remove somebody who was directly on top of you.
Something felt warm and Coleen realized it was the fire that Alessio or the other boy must have been using before one disturbed the other. There was just enough time to realize the placement of the fire and of their bodies before she toppled.
Coleen was no stranger to being burned, but her injuries that gave her the scars she had to live with for the entirety of her life were from being scalded with boiling water. She wasn't sure what to expect from the licking flames of the campfire, or whether or not the heat was worse than her ages-old trauma. Worse or better, the fire crisped the previously un-burned half of her face. Her voice cracked and swallowed up gulps of intense heat. She screamed in response to the pain, or at least tried, but found herself incapable of producing noise.
Alessio had come into the fire atop her. Her head was pressed down from the force of it, digging her cheek into the hot coals. Coleen kicked and threw wild punches like a cornered animal to try and get the body off of her. Once freed, she scrambled out of the hot pit and fell onto her side, rolling to her back. The screams finally came.
Her eyes closed reflexively from the pain. She'd been thrown off her footing and the two of them going were going somewhere she couldn't see. Something pulled at her blouse which only amplified that blind, claustrophobic feeling of being unable to remove somebody who was directly on top of you.
Something felt warm and Coleen realized it was the fire that Alessio or the other boy must have been using before one disturbed the other. There was just enough time to realize the placement of the fire and of their bodies before she toppled.
Coleen was no stranger to being burned, but her injuries that gave her the scars she had to live with for the entirety of her life were from being scalded with boiling water. She wasn't sure what to expect from the licking flames of the campfire, or whether or not the heat was worse than her ages-old trauma. Worse or better, the fire crisped the previously un-burned half of her face. Her voice cracked and swallowed up gulps of intense heat. She screamed in response to the pain, or at least tried, but found herself incapable of producing noise.
Alessio had come into the fire atop her. Her head was pressed down from the force of it, digging her cheek into the hot coals. Coleen kicked and threw wild punches like a cornered animal to try and get the body off of her. Once freed, she scrambled out of the hot pit and fell onto her side, rolling to her back. The screams finally came.
"Aaaaargh."
Alessio's shirt had flames. Al inhaled smoke. Al thought his hair burned a bit, which it did.
But that did not matter. Coleen had it worse than him.
Coleen was pushed against the fire, Alessio had control, and more importantly, Coleen used her fists to punch Al. That was fine, because she let go of the AK-47, which Alessio immediately lunged for.
He had power again. Alessio had a gun again, and even though he was burning, he felt safe again. He could swim into the ocean later, get rid of the fire. It hurt a bit, his face couldn't hide it but he had bigger trouble, it was nothing dramatic yet. But he could solve the problem by pointing the gun at the defenseless Coleen and pulling the trigger.
And so he did.
Alessio's shirt had flames. Al inhaled smoke. Al thought his hair burned a bit, which it did.
But that did not matter. Coleen had it worse than him.
Coleen was pushed against the fire, Alessio had control, and more importantly, Coleen used her fists to punch Al. That was fine, because she let go of the AK-47, which Alessio immediately lunged for.
He had power again. Alessio had a gun again, and even though he was burning, he felt safe again. He could swim into the ocean later, get rid of the fire. It hurt a bit, his face couldn't hide it but he had bigger trouble, it was nothing dramatic yet. But he could solve the problem by pointing the gun at the defenseless Coleen and pulling the trigger.
And so he did.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Coleen pulled her face from the sand. Though it was free of the sand, the burning sensation refused to leave her. The part of her face that she could still have pride in had been completely ruined - she couldn't see it but she could feel it, jerking short, sobbing shrieks straight out of her.
She had fucked up, and she knew it. For only having two attempts at aggression during her whole go at this island survival thing, she figured it was pretty pathetic to be rocking a zero percent success rate. Hesitation had killed Arthur, and now it was going to kill her. Alessio had fallen into the fire with her but how much damage he sustained, she could not tell. She couldn't even open her eyes, her left eye clenched shut and rapidly swelling from being struck with the flashlight and her right felt like it had been melted shut. Alessio could be anywhere, and in any condition, holding anything in his hands.
Her gun. Her gun had fallen to the sand or been thrown away. She wasn't sure when she lost it but now she was empty-handed, her left shoulder pressed up against her daypack and the spear strapped to it. She still had the spear at her disposal but without a way to see the straps or knots of how she secured it to the rest of her things...
Her train of thought was interrupted by several deafening pops, all almost simultaneously being accompanied by sharp pangs to her abdomen. The mystery of the fallen AK-47 was thus solved as a small mercy to her uncertainties, as was the mystery of just what exactly it felt like to be shot. Coleen got her answer as three, she believed she felt three, three bullets lodged themselves somewhere in her abdomen. Her intestines, her liver, maybe even her uterus (well to hell with it, she wasn't planning on having kids any time soon anyway)... she couldn't remember exactly what was where and what had just been damaged. She believed she felt a fourth crash into her hip, shattering the upper end of her pelvis. She choked down air and laid there on the ground, a pathetic, writhing and broken mess waiting to bleed to death.
The sting of tears were unwelcome and prevalent on her cheeks. She thought it was bad to cry before, that the scars reacted poorly to the salty liquid due to how delicate the skin was, but it was a million times worse to suffer through that with fresh burns such as this. The pain was bad enough to make her want to die; Coleen was sure that was coming soon.
Air. She couldn't breathe. Her lung hadn't been hit, had it? The shots were too low. All the same, her diaphragm didn't want to work. Her abs were tensed up like rocks, like torn muscle was knotting itself to try and make itself whole.
Finally, air. She could breathe, and she took a full gasp of the coastal air for all she believed it was worth, for she was sure it would be one of her last. If it were a play, she would draw out a soliloquy. But this was the greatest drama of all, and it was a role far too great for her.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Stay alive. He's not dead yet.
She had fucked up, and she knew it. For only having two attempts at aggression during her whole go at this island survival thing, she figured it was pretty pathetic to be rocking a zero percent success rate. Hesitation had killed Arthur, and now it was going to kill her. Alessio had fallen into the fire with her but how much damage he sustained, she could not tell. She couldn't even open her eyes, her left eye clenched shut and rapidly swelling from being struck with the flashlight and her right felt like it had been melted shut. Alessio could be anywhere, and in any condition, holding anything in his hands.
Her gun. Her gun had fallen to the sand or been thrown away. She wasn't sure when she lost it but now she was empty-handed, her left shoulder pressed up against her daypack and the spear strapped to it. She still had the spear at her disposal but without a way to see the straps or knots of how she secured it to the rest of her things...
Her train of thought was interrupted by several deafening pops, all almost simultaneously being accompanied by sharp pangs to her abdomen. The mystery of the fallen AK-47 was thus solved as a small mercy to her uncertainties, as was the mystery of just what exactly it felt like to be shot. Coleen got her answer as three, she believed she felt three, three bullets lodged themselves somewhere in her abdomen. Her intestines, her liver, maybe even her uterus (well to hell with it, she wasn't planning on having kids any time soon anyway)... she couldn't remember exactly what was where and what had just been damaged. She believed she felt a fourth crash into her hip, shattering the upper end of her pelvis. She choked down air and laid there on the ground, a pathetic, writhing and broken mess waiting to bleed to death.
The sting of tears were unwelcome and prevalent on her cheeks. She thought it was bad to cry before, that the scars reacted poorly to the salty liquid due to how delicate the skin was, but it was a million times worse to suffer through that with fresh burns such as this. The pain was bad enough to make her want to die; Coleen was sure that was coming soon.
Air. She couldn't breathe. Her lung hadn't been hit, had it? The shots were too low. All the same, her diaphragm didn't want to work. Her abs were tensed up like rocks, like torn muscle was knotting itself to try and make itself whole.
Finally, air. She could breathe, and she took a full gasp of the coastal air for all she believed it was worth, for she was sure it would be one of her last. If it were a play, she would draw out a soliloquy. But this was the greatest drama of all, and it was a role far too great for her.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Stay alive. He's not dead yet.
Al touched his hair. Hot. He really wanted to get rid of the fire. But now, he needed to deal with Jon. He pointed his AK at him.
But it was too late. Jon already came to the two of them, and Al did not notice.
"Urrrgh."
But it was too late. Jon already came to the two of them, and Al did not notice.
"Urrrgh."
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Jon thought that maybe, just maybe, people could be redeemed.
He thought maybe he could talk sense into Al.
Why was he always wrong?
Every time he tried to do something right, it went wrong.
But every time he did what he thought was the wrong thing, it brought results.
From the way Alessio spoke, he knew it was going to be the latter.
Out of everyone he's met, Al was one of the worst people he knew, barring Min Jae Parker, and Alex Tarquin.
Whereas the other two were psychopaths who did this purely for enjoyment, Alessio did it out of cowardish, and selfishness.
He didn't care who's lives he destroyed, and he didn't regret a single thing he did. He thinks he's going to go home, and just start over, and nobody will remember a thing he did.
Jon would have kept talking to him until he got the chance to shoot Al himself, however, a girl, Coleen, was sneaking up behind him with a rifle, automatic too. Any videogame or movie he's ever scene told him all he needed to know about the gun. That gun was pointed right at Al's back.
He won't be seeing what happens next on this island. Jon and Coleen will.
She called him out, but she didn't shoot. Not yet. Wait...
The safety. Al threw something, he's rushing her, stop him Jon!
*DAKKADAKKADAKKA*
Jon dropped everything and hit the deck, ears ringing. He felt cold sand cling to his bare skin as his eye trailed up into the stars.
Was he hit? Was it over? He couldn't hear anything but the feint ringing in his ears. He felt frozen, paralyzed. The world stopped, nothing but the stars and clouds and that ringing. What the hell was going on? Why couldn't he move? He couldn't feel the pain of the bullets, but he could still feel everything else. Was he hit or not?
Was he going to die?
It couldn't have happened now, not now! Not this close. He had to get up, he had to move! There was things he still had to do, he couldn't lose it all this close!
He didn't want to die... He didn't want to die!
Jon was finally terrified of the unknown.
The ringing in his ears turned to screaming, his eye moved over and saw Al forcing Coleen into the fire.
Move damnit move! He wasn't hit, he couldn't feel it, he had to move!
Jon was terrified, he was helpless again, he couldn't save her. He remembered what happened to Barry, to Michael, to Brendan.
It didn't take long for that fear to become anger.
Jon felt his hand twitch.
He couldn't find his gun, it was gone, fuck! His hand felt around the sand and gripped the machete.
He turned back around and saw Al with the AK.
"No!"
Jon scrambled to his feet as the familiar sounds filled his ears.
He shot her. Jon failed again.
Jon was running forwards as those horrid sounds filled his head again.
Al turned the gun to Jon, ready to fire.
Was this it?
Is it over now?
No.
Jon screamed as he swung the machete towards Al, knocking the barrel of the gun upwards.
Jon wasn't good at helping people, but The Shape was great at hurting them.
It was time for Al to figure that out.
Alessio Rigano would never see his home again.
He thought maybe he could talk sense into Al.
Why was he always wrong?
Every time he tried to do something right, it went wrong.
But every time he did what he thought was the wrong thing, it brought results.
From the way Alessio spoke, he knew it was going to be the latter.
Out of everyone he's met, Al was one of the worst people he knew, barring Min Jae Parker, and Alex Tarquin.
Whereas the other two were psychopaths who did this purely for enjoyment, Alessio did it out of cowardish, and selfishness.
He didn't care who's lives he destroyed, and he didn't regret a single thing he did. He thinks he's going to go home, and just start over, and nobody will remember a thing he did.
Jon would have kept talking to him until he got the chance to shoot Al himself, however, a girl, Coleen, was sneaking up behind him with a rifle, automatic too. Any videogame or movie he's ever scene told him all he needed to know about the gun. That gun was pointed right at Al's back.
He won't be seeing what happens next on this island. Jon and Coleen will.
She called him out, but she didn't shoot. Not yet. Wait...
The safety. Al threw something, he's rushing her, stop him Jon!
*DAKKADAKKADAKKA*
Jon dropped everything and hit the deck, ears ringing. He felt cold sand cling to his bare skin as his eye trailed up into the stars.
Was he hit? Was it over? He couldn't hear anything but the feint ringing in his ears. He felt frozen, paralyzed. The world stopped, nothing but the stars and clouds and that ringing. What the hell was going on? Why couldn't he move? He couldn't feel the pain of the bullets, but he could still feel everything else. Was he hit or not?
Was he going to die?
It couldn't have happened now, not now! Not this close. He had to get up, he had to move! There was things he still had to do, he couldn't lose it all this close!
He didn't want to die... He didn't want to die!
Jon was finally terrified of the unknown.
The ringing in his ears turned to screaming, his eye moved over and saw Al forcing Coleen into the fire.
Move damnit move! He wasn't hit, he couldn't feel it, he had to move!
Jon was terrified, he was helpless again, he couldn't save her. He remembered what happened to Barry, to Michael, to Brendan.
It didn't take long for that fear to become anger.
Jon felt his hand twitch.
He couldn't find his gun, it was gone, fuck! His hand felt around the sand and gripped the machete.
He turned back around and saw Al with the AK.
"No!"
Jon scrambled to his feet as the familiar sounds filled his ears.
He shot her. Jon failed again.
Jon was running forwards as those horrid sounds filled his head again.
Al turned the gun to Jon, ready to fire.
Was this it?
Is it over now?
No.
Jon screamed as he swung the machete towards Al, knocking the barrel of the gun upwards.
Jon wasn't good at helping people, but The Shape was great at hurting them.
It was time for Al to figure that out.
Alessio Rigano would never see his home again.
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MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
You're not done yet.
Coleen had found a way to roll herself onto her stomach with the back of her forearm propping her up far enough to keep her face out of the sand. She spat something that tasted a little saltier than saliva and because this just wasn't her day, it wasn't one of those clean spits either; it was the kind that left a few gooey stands running down your chin and you have to flick your tongue or wipe yourself off with your hand to get it to go away. But she didn't have any hands to spare. One held her up, and one was clutched to her stomach as if working alone to hold in her guts as if her ruined abdominal wall could not.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Coleen repeated. She'd worked herself up into an anxious mess. "I keep hesitating. I know what the problem is, I'm getting into my own head and I'm trying to come around that. Just... just give me a sec."
The entire practice ground to a halt as Coleen turned to pinch her shoulder. With any luck the self-induced pain might be enough to push her out of her stupor and get things back on track. Brady dropped a stick while fumbling around with his snare, so he leaned over from his chair to snatch it back up. BB set about playing with some of the settings on her amp. Try as she might, Coleen was never able to figure out which knobs did what, the labels be damned.
Vanessa rolled her eyes, turning to Coleen with impatience written all over her face. "Look, just stop fucking thinking about it and just DO it, y'know? You don't have to get it word for word, just make it sound good."
Coleen bit her lip and nodded. Though surprised by Vanessa's sudden interjection, it gave her enough of a kick in the ass to get her head on straight.
Cameron looked up from tuning her guitar and smiled at Coleen. "Look, don't worry about it. Eventually you'll just get the feel of the songs. Your voice is great as it is, and it's just practice. You can learn them, I believe in you." Cameron waved her fingers in her closest approximation of a mystical gesture before laughing. "If not we'll just get high and jam something out, that normally works."
And Cameron had calmed her back down. Now, she was both focused and relaxed. Confident. Sure she could do this. Coleen heaved a deep sigh, turned back around, and brought herself close to the mic.
Her eye opened.
It wasn't the eye she expected; her bludgeoned eye was still swollen shut and that probably wouldn't be going away any time soon. The other eye, the one that felt like it didn't even have an eyelid anymore as far as her nerves were concerned, cracked open. The vision was blurry and hardly serviceable for anything like reading, but it was good enough for what Coleen needed. She needed to know where the ground was so she could stand up. She needed to know where the spear was to grab it. She needed to know where Alessio was.
To kill him.
"You were right..." Coleen croaked, at a volume perhaps only she would ever hear and in a conversation nobody else was privy to. "You both're right." Her hand fumbled for the straps of her bag and the mercifully came undone. She slid the spear out and held it near the middle of the shaft. Now, she had to fight her greatest enemy in the form of her legs disobeying her. She reluctantly let go of her wounds and was greeted with the sensation that all of her blood was pouring out of her, though she cared not to look down and confirm if this was actually the case. Her right leg felt totally fucked up beyond recognition and moving her thigh even an inch sent her hip into agony.
A sample of what it might be like to grow old, an experience she knew now that she would never live to see.
You can't live your entire life afraid to get hurt. The words she spoke to Kimiko repeated themselves over and over in her head. Knowing what little life there was left to live and how precious it was, they only rang truer by the second. Coleen raised the spear's tip to the sky and pushed the base end into the ground, using it to lift herself to her feet. Alessio and the other boy were caught up in a struggle. She thought she heard the clanging of metal striking metal. She steeled herself for the agony she was going to subject herself to, tested weight on her right foot. She could walk - not without pain, but she could do it without a limp if she really tried.
She never thought again about her action before taking off, in a full run, towards Alessio. The spear came up.
The spear pushed forward. Coleen screamed again.
This time, it was not a scream of pain.
Coleen had found a way to roll herself onto her stomach with the back of her forearm propping her up far enough to keep her face out of the sand. She spat something that tasted a little saltier than saliva and because this just wasn't her day, it wasn't one of those clean spits either; it was the kind that left a few gooey stands running down your chin and you have to flick your tongue or wipe yourself off with your hand to get it to go away. But she didn't have any hands to spare. One held her up, and one was clutched to her stomach as if working alone to hold in her guts as if her ruined abdominal wall could not.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Coleen repeated. She'd worked herself up into an anxious mess. "I keep hesitating. I know what the problem is, I'm getting into my own head and I'm trying to come around that. Just... just give me a sec."
The entire practice ground to a halt as Coleen turned to pinch her shoulder. With any luck the self-induced pain might be enough to push her out of her stupor and get things back on track. Brady dropped a stick while fumbling around with his snare, so he leaned over from his chair to snatch it back up. BB set about playing with some of the settings on her amp. Try as she might, Coleen was never able to figure out which knobs did what, the labels be damned.
Vanessa rolled her eyes, turning to Coleen with impatience written all over her face. "Look, just stop fucking thinking about it and just DO it, y'know? You don't have to get it word for word, just make it sound good."
Coleen bit her lip and nodded. Though surprised by Vanessa's sudden interjection, it gave her enough of a kick in the ass to get her head on straight.
Cameron looked up from tuning her guitar and smiled at Coleen. "Look, don't worry about it. Eventually you'll just get the feel of the songs. Your voice is great as it is, and it's just practice. You can learn them, I believe in you." Cameron waved her fingers in her closest approximation of a mystical gesture before laughing. "If not we'll just get high and jam something out, that normally works."
And Cameron had calmed her back down. Now, she was both focused and relaxed. Confident. Sure she could do this. Coleen heaved a deep sigh, turned back around, and brought herself close to the mic.
Her eye opened.
It wasn't the eye she expected; her bludgeoned eye was still swollen shut and that probably wouldn't be going away any time soon. The other eye, the one that felt like it didn't even have an eyelid anymore as far as her nerves were concerned, cracked open. The vision was blurry and hardly serviceable for anything like reading, but it was good enough for what Coleen needed. She needed to know where the ground was so she could stand up. She needed to know where the spear was to grab it. She needed to know where Alessio was.
To kill him.
"You were right..." Coleen croaked, at a volume perhaps only she would ever hear and in a conversation nobody else was privy to. "You both're right." Her hand fumbled for the straps of her bag and the mercifully came undone. She slid the spear out and held it near the middle of the shaft. Now, she had to fight her greatest enemy in the form of her legs disobeying her. She reluctantly let go of her wounds and was greeted with the sensation that all of her blood was pouring out of her, though she cared not to look down and confirm if this was actually the case. Her right leg felt totally fucked up beyond recognition and moving her thigh even an inch sent her hip into agony.
A sample of what it might be like to grow old, an experience she knew now that she would never live to see.
You can't live your entire life afraid to get hurt. The words she spoke to Kimiko repeated themselves over and over in her head. Knowing what little life there was left to live and how precious it was, they only rang truer by the second. Coleen raised the spear's tip to the sky and pushed the base end into the ground, using it to lift herself to her feet. Alessio and the other boy were caught up in a struggle. She thought she heard the clanging of metal striking metal. She steeled herself for the agony she was going to subject herself to, tested weight on her right foot. She could walk - not without pain, but she could do it without a limp if she really tried.
She never thought again about her action before taking off, in a full run, towards Alessio. The spear came up.
The spear pushed forward. Coleen screamed again.
This time, it was not a scream of pain.
Jon kicked the gun. Fuck. Bullets came out, but missed him. But something unexpected happened.
"Aargh."
Coleen hit him with the spear. Al felt coldness waving through his skin. Something was inside him.
Pain.
He held tightly the gun, as if that would safe him.
"Aargh."
Coleen hit him with the spear. Al felt coldness waving through his skin. Something was inside him.
Pain.
He held tightly the gun, as if that would safe him.
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The Shape was closing in, Al couldn't shoot him, nor could he hide behind his rifle. It was over for him.
"You had a choice! You chose this!"
Something came from his peripheral vision, landing into Alessio's midsection. It was a spear! Where did it come from?!
The Sh-Jon froze, he was stunned. It was Coleen, despite the obvious, she... she was still alive? After all of that, she got back up?
Jon was missed by everything, and he was too terrifyed to move. Coleen was burned alive and shot multiple times, and it didn't take her much longer to jump back into it.
He looked back to Al who was raising his gun again.
Jon lurched forwards, driving his machete into Alessio's abdomen.
"Not this time you bastard! Not again!"
He wrapped his other arm around Al, and pulled him closer into a form resembling a hug, forcing Alessio deeper into the blade.
"Not again! Not again..."
He only stared straight ahead as he felt the blood drip down over his hand.
"It's over... It's over Al. You don't get to choose anymore, we choose!"
He stared into Al's eyes as he dragged him away from Coleen, away from the gun he dropped.
"You're through... Just give up. It's over... It's over for you... Don't worry about home anymore."
Jon's voice lowered to a whisper, as his hand left Al's back and moved to his chest. Jon gave a hard shove and forced Al off the machete.
As he watched him hit the ground, Jon realized he wasn't wearing his mask. He wasn't The Shape. He was Jon, Jonathan Gulley, and he may have just done something right for once.
Wait... What about Coleen...
Jon turned around and ran back to her, hoping if she got up, maybe she could be helped. A gut feeling told him otherwise, but he still had to try.
"You had a choice! You chose this!"
Something came from his peripheral vision, landing into Alessio's midsection. It was a spear! Where did it come from?!
The Sh-Jon froze, he was stunned. It was Coleen, despite the obvious, she... she was still alive? After all of that, she got back up?
Jon was missed by everything, and he was too terrifyed to move. Coleen was burned alive and shot multiple times, and it didn't take her much longer to jump back into it.
He looked back to Al who was raising his gun again.
Jon lurched forwards, driving his machete into Alessio's abdomen.
"Not this time you bastard! Not again!"
He wrapped his other arm around Al, and pulled him closer into a form resembling a hug, forcing Alessio deeper into the blade.
"Not again! Not again..."
He only stared straight ahead as he felt the blood drip down over his hand.
"It's over... It's over Al. You don't get to choose anymore, we choose!"
He stared into Al's eyes as he dragged him away from Coleen, away from the gun he dropped.
"You're through... Just give up. It's over... It's over for you... Don't worry about home anymore."
Jon's voice lowered to a whisper, as his hand left Al's back and moved to his chest. Jon gave a hard shove and forced Al off the machete.
As he watched him hit the ground, Jon realized he wasn't wearing his mask. He wasn't The Shape. He was Jon, Jonathan Gulley, and he may have just done something right for once.
Wait... What about Coleen...
Jon turned around and ran back to her, hoping if she got up, maybe she could be helped. A gut feeling told him otherwise, but he still had to try.
-
MK Kilmarnock
- Posts: 1931
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 5:28 am
- Location: On one of the coasts, generally
Alessio had fallen, quite possibly for the last time.
Coleen felt halfway to wherever he was. She'd pushed the spear a good chunk of the way into... possibly even through Alessio's back, yet maintained a bulldog-ish grip on the handle up until he was yanked away from her. The spear only left her hands when Alessio's knees hit the ground.
Without as much motivation to keep her eyes open, the vision in her right eye started to fade. Her left wasn't even trying to stay open. If only Georgia Lee were around, she might tell her what a total mess she was and that they needed to fix her up as soon as possible; anything could be masked with enough foundation and with a little determination... plus oodles of cash. She thought she felt the corner of her mouth raise at the thought of one of her fallen friends. The 'fallen' part may have been a little bit redundant by now, though - nearly all of her friends were fallen.
She supposed she could consider the other boy there a friend. An acquaintance, perhaps, to be more accurate. Coleen stared at the boy's knees the best she could and carried her own weight the best she could, swaying back and forth.
"I feel... sick," she said weakly. She also felt tired, accomplished and just a little repulsed at herself all in one. She wasn't sure if Alessio had stopped breathing yet. She stopped caring once the spear came out. She did what she came here to do and she had also fucked up something fierce, and that carried a steep price tag in the form of a ruined, bloodstained blouse and perhaps a perforated liver. Darn. She only had one of those, and she wasn't even old enough to drink yet.
Coleen leaned on the boy and didn't care if he decided to stab her next. Her bag laid a short distance away from her and she didn't care about where that was, either. Nothing important was left inside, except maybe her makeup kit. Gotta pretty herself up for the funeral.
"... Know where Vanessa is?" Coleen asked. "Where's Vanessa? Never got to... see her." She mumbled, maybe even rambled a little bit. It was okay if the boy didn't bring her to Vanessa. Not ideal, but anywhere was better than here. Alessio deserved to die alone, not even in the company of the hated. If he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long. He could die like a coward, with only the waves for company.
"Sorry. I've been... mmph. Rude," Coleen apologized as she struggled to walk in the direction of her choice. "I didn't get your name."
((Coleen Reagan, to be concluded in Summertree.))
Coleen felt halfway to wherever he was. She'd pushed the spear a good chunk of the way into... possibly even through Alessio's back, yet maintained a bulldog-ish grip on the handle up until he was yanked away from her. The spear only left her hands when Alessio's knees hit the ground.
Without as much motivation to keep her eyes open, the vision in her right eye started to fade. Her left wasn't even trying to stay open. If only Georgia Lee were around, she might tell her what a total mess she was and that they needed to fix her up as soon as possible; anything could be masked with enough foundation and with a little determination... plus oodles of cash. She thought she felt the corner of her mouth raise at the thought of one of her fallen friends. The 'fallen' part may have been a little bit redundant by now, though - nearly all of her friends were fallen.
She supposed she could consider the other boy there a friend. An acquaintance, perhaps, to be more accurate. Coleen stared at the boy's knees the best she could and carried her own weight the best she could, swaying back and forth.
"I feel... sick," she said weakly. She also felt tired, accomplished and just a little repulsed at herself all in one. She wasn't sure if Alessio had stopped breathing yet. She stopped caring once the spear came out. She did what she came here to do and she had also fucked up something fierce, and that carried a steep price tag in the form of a ruined, bloodstained blouse and perhaps a perforated liver. Darn. She only had one of those, and she wasn't even old enough to drink yet.
Coleen leaned on the boy and didn't care if he decided to stab her next. Her bag laid a short distance away from her and she didn't care about where that was, either. Nothing important was left inside, except maybe her makeup kit. Gotta pretty herself up for the funeral.
"... Know where Vanessa is?" Coleen asked. "Where's Vanessa? Never got to... see her." She mumbled, maybe even rambled a little bit. It was okay if the boy didn't bring her to Vanessa. Not ideal, but anywhere was better than here. Alessio deserved to die alone, not even in the company of the hated. If he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long. He could die like a coward, with only the waves for company.
"Sorry. I've been... mmph. Rude," Coleen apologized as she struggled to walk in the direction of her choice. "I didn't get your name."
((Coleen Reagan, to be concluded in Summertree.))
Alessio's eyes widened. Everything felt so hot. Everything felt so cold.
Jon's words were cold. They were humiliating. They hurt.
He now was lying on the sand. His brain focussing on all the pain. Jon and Coleen did not matter anymore. All he could think about was himself, was the pain he received, was his life beginning to end.
Jon's words were cold. They were humiliating. They hurt.
He now was lying on the sand. His brain focussing on all the pain. Jon and Coleen did not matter anymore. All he could think about was himself, was the pain he received, was his life beginning to end.
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As Jon tried to help Coleen up, he knew there wasn't much more time left for her, but he wasn't going to just leave her here to die with her killer. Jon glanced behind him at the writhing form of Alessio, laying in the sand.
Coleen asked about Vanessa. Jon couldn't say anything about her, he'd never seen her on the island.
As they were walking out, she asked what was Jon's name. He wanted to tell her that his name didn't matter. He simply told her the truth. Maybe she'd know, maybe not.
"Jon, just Jon."
Jon couldn't help but feel terrible however, if he didn't freeze up, he could have saved Coleen. It should have just been Al, or it should have been him instead of her.
"Where do you want to go, now?"
((Jonathan Gulley continued in Summertree ))
Coleen asked about Vanessa. Jon couldn't say anything about her, he'd never seen her on the island.
As they were walking out, she asked what was Jon's name. He wanted to tell her that his name didn't matter. He simply told her the truth. Maybe she'd know, maybe not.
"Jon, just Jon."
Jon couldn't help but feel terrible however, if he didn't freeze up, he could have saved Coleen. It should have just been Al, or it should have been him instead of her.
"Where do you want to go, now?"
((Jonathan Gulley continued in Summertree ))