"Right," Adam said. He didn't want Sharon to be right. He didn't want to deal with this, to have yet another conflict, yet another trial. The sleep he'd gotten had only made him more tired, more anxious, and what he could use right now was some motion. Keep walking, forever.
But Maynard was screaming, probably because Gwen was dead. Adam wished he could go back to the hospital, could shout at her or keep an eye on her, keep her with them, hell, even get to know her just a little more and understand what she meant to Maynard. But this wasn't a situation where regret was going to bring him anything. It called for action, action of a sort somewhat new to Adam's time on the island.
"I'll handle it." He nodded to Sharon, stood. The sword lay on the ground behind him. He wouldn't need it. Maynard looked like he was on the edge of a panic attack. When kids freaked, when they got too into it in the ring or whatever, they had to sit down and chill. Adam was gonna get Maynard to take a time out, sit and think and realize that the last thing he should be doing to honor the dead was throwing a tantrum.
And on some level, there was more than that. Maynard wasn't the leader. He wasn't the tough guy. He wasn't expected to keep a stoic face. But right now? Right now, he looked like he wanted to break something. And that? He could join the fucking club. Adam didn't expect him to keep his tears in check, but he didn't get to get destructive, not when Adam had kept his head on straight the whole week when nothing would've felt better than wrecking someone's day.
So he stepped forward and grabbed for the spear a little more carelessly, a little more roughly than he otherwise might have, and as he did he grunted, "Calm down, man."
Detritus
Day Six
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Even beyond his screams and his hoarse breathing and his uneven sobs, Maynard heard Adam's approach. He'd almost forgotten about him through everything that'd hit him, almost forgotten about the only other constant in his life aside from his sword. Even with everybody else leaving him, Adam had remained by his side throughout thick and thin. If there was anybody who could give him some semblance of comfort or assuredness, even with his world disintegrating around him, then it would be Adam.
But he didn't.
He only made everything worse.
Maynard's eyes wrenched open and his cry trailed off as he felt Adam's grip around his sword. He tried to resist giving up his own grasp as best he could, knowing that if he didn't retain his hold then the world would completely collapse. If he could just keep his fingers tightly around the handle then he could maybe regain some level of sanity or rational thought. Without this one singular thing, he didn't know what'd happen to him or to Adam or to anybody else.
So he resisted Adam's harsh tug and rough words, and yanked it back, with no regard for anything other than ensuring that he kept this one constant by his side. He wanted to do what Adam wanted, wanted to keep his partner with him for as long as he could, but for now he needed to disobey just this one time, needed this one thing for himself. Surely Adam wouldn't begrudge him that much?
"No," he croaked, voice cracked and punctuated with his heavy breathing. "I won't let you."
But he didn't.
He only made everything worse.
Maynard's eyes wrenched open and his cry trailed off as he felt Adam's grip around his sword. He tried to resist giving up his own grasp as best he could, knowing that if he didn't retain his hold then the world would completely collapse. If he could just keep his fingers tightly around the handle then he could maybe regain some level of sanity or rational thought. Without this one singular thing, he didn't know what'd happen to him or to Adam or to anybody else.
So he resisted Adam's harsh tug and rough words, and yanked it back, with no regard for anything other than ensuring that he kept this one constant by his side. He wanted to do what Adam wanted, wanted to keep his partner with him for as long as he could, but for now he needed to disobey just this one time, needed this one thing for himself. Surely Adam wouldn't begrudge him that much?
"No," he croaked, voice cracked and punctuated with his heavy breathing. "I won't let you."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
As soon as Maynard refused to hand over the weapon, as soon as he pulled back, the possibility of this ending smoothly went out the door. Adam tightened his grip and tugged.
After the past few days, he expected, on some level, for this to be easy. He expected Maynard to cave, to drop the oversized weapon. He expected the boy to fall back into his meek ways. They'd both apologize later, most likely, or Maynard would apologize and Adam would say it was fine in a way that meant he was sorry, too. But that was not what happened.
He thought he'd be able to take the weapon easily, even if Maynard resisted, because he knew his way around these things. He'd fought a ton of guys in Paulo's backyard. Yeah, sure, he'd done knife drills one time. He couldn't remember whose idea it had been, but the impression had been clear. One boy held a piece of chalk. This represented a knife. The other was tasked to take it from him. At the end, it didn't matter if you got the chalk or not; even trying entailed getting covered in its dust. This wasn't a knife, though. It was a huge-ass spear thing, and Maynard wasn't another fighter.
But the knife drill turned out to be pretty applicable here, too. Maybe Adam lunged too forcefully, as he tried to wrest the weapon to the side, get the blade out of the way so he wouldn't have to worry about it. Maybe Maynard stood too firm. Perhaps he even advanced to meet Adam. It was a case of two boys exerting their strength, each most likely expecting the other to give up, a game of chicken.
Problem was, only Adam was on the wrong end of things. He should have known this. He should have flinched.
He didn't.
The spear stabbed into his gut, and it went in smoother and easier than he'd expected. The blood welled up almost immediately, and he coughed, then stumbled backwards, and as the weapon slipped free, there was more blood. He just looked for a moment, looked at Maynard and the spear and tried not to look at the stain spreading across his shirt.
After the past few days, he expected, on some level, for this to be easy. He expected Maynard to cave, to drop the oversized weapon. He expected the boy to fall back into his meek ways. They'd both apologize later, most likely, or Maynard would apologize and Adam would say it was fine in a way that meant he was sorry, too. But that was not what happened.
He thought he'd be able to take the weapon easily, even if Maynard resisted, because he knew his way around these things. He'd fought a ton of guys in Paulo's backyard. Yeah, sure, he'd done knife drills one time. He couldn't remember whose idea it had been, but the impression had been clear. One boy held a piece of chalk. This represented a knife. The other was tasked to take it from him. At the end, it didn't matter if you got the chalk or not; even trying entailed getting covered in its dust. This wasn't a knife, though. It was a huge-ass spear thing, and Maynard wasn't another fighter.
But the knife drill turned out to be pretty applicable here, too. Maybe Adam lunged too forcefully, as he tried to wrest the weapon to the side, get the blade out of the way so he wouldn't have to worry about it. Maybe Maynard stood too firm. Perhaps he even advanced to meet Adam. It was a case of two boys exerting their strength, each most likely expecting the other to give up, a game of chicken.
Problem was, only Adam was on the wrong end of things. He should have known this. He should have flinched.
He didn't.
The spear stabbed into his gut, and it went in smoother and easier than he'd expected. The blood welled up almost immediately, and he coughed, then stumbled backwards, and as the weapon slipped free, there was more blood. He just looked for a moment, looked at Maynard and the spear and tried not to look at the stain spreading across his shirt.
It all happened so fast.
There was a tug and there wasn't any give, and the next second there was a soft pop that echoed around him and a cough, and everything changed. He hadn't thought about anything else, had only focused on maintaining his hold to the point that he'd almost forgotten what his weapon was. Or what it could do.
Maynard's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and incredulity as the blade retracted from Adam's abdomen, a dark-red stain quickly blossoming across his shirt in its wake. The handle he'd once kept ahold of so tightly dropped limply to the floor, hitting it with a hollow clatter as it slipped between his fingers. Any concern for keeping his grip fled from his mind the second he realised what'd happened.
What he'd done.
He stumbled backwards, his whole body shaking and bile rising in his throat as his eyes met with Adam's. Adam was his ally, his partner, his friend. He'd never meant to hurt him, never wanted this to happen. He'd just wanted everything to turn out alright, to find Gwen and save her and do something, but the world had yanked her away from him and all because he couldn't look past his own grief and anger it'd taken Adam too.
No. He'd taken Adam. It was all his fault, and no amount of self-pity or rushed rationalisation would detract from that.
His mouth contorted as he struggled desperately to find words, tried to find some way of justifying what he'd done or apologising for it. But he couldn't. All he could do was clasp his hands over his mouth and try and keep back the emotions that threatened to rush forth. He wanted to help, wanted to do something to repair the damage he'd caused. It couldn't be too late, could it? Adam had protected him, had stayed by his side for so long. Maynard wouldn't - couldn't - let him be felled by one singular mistake on his part.
He hadn't meant it.
There had to be something he could do.
But as his heart continued to flutter and his breath caught in his throat, the only thing Maynard could offer him were two, shaking, words;
"I'm sorry."
There was a tug and there wasn't any give, and the next second there was a soft pop that echoed around him and a cough, and everything changed. He hadn't thought about anything else, had only focused on maintaining his hold to the point that he'd almost forgotten what his weapon was. Or what it could do.
Maynard's eyes widened in a mixture of shock and incredulity as the blade retracted from Adam's abdomen, a dark-red stain quickly blossoming across his shirt in its wake. The handle he'd once kept ahold of so tightly dropped limply to the floor, hitting it with a hollow clatter as it slipped between his fingers. Any concern for keeping his grip fled from his mind the second he realised what'd happened.
What he'd done.
He stumbled backwards, his whole body shaking and bile rising in his throat as his eyes met with Adam's. Adam was his ally, his partner, his friend. He'd never meant to hurt him, never wanted this to happen. He'd just wanted everything to turn out alright, to find Gwen and save her and do something, but the world had yanked her away from him and all because he couldn't look past his own grief and anger it'd taken Adam too.
No. He'd taken Adam. It was all his fault, and no amount of self-pity or rushed rationalisation would detract from that.
His mouth contorted as he struggled desperately to find words, tried to find some way of justifying what he'd done or apologising for it. But he couldn't. All he could do was clasp his hands over his mouth and try and keep back the emotions that threatened to rush forth. He wanted to help, wanted to do something to repair the damage he'd caused. It couldn't be too late, could it? Adam had protected him, had stayed by his side for so long. Maynard wouldn't - couldn't - let him be felled by one singular mistake on his part.
He hadn't meant it.
There had to be something he could do.
But as his heart continued to flutter and his breath caught in his throat, the only thing Maynard could offer him were two, shaking, words;
"I'm sorry."
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 290
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:35 pm
When Adam told her he could handle it, she just stayed quiet. While she knew it probably was the right thing to help, she realized that the situation that they had gotten themselves into meant that her life was very much at risk by trying to intervene. She was tiny. She knew and accepted that. Trying to wrestle a weapon out of a guy's hands would pretty much be an exercise in futility for her, so she couldn't do anything. She had to rely on the help of another person again.
Thinking about that moment now though, she wished that she did do something to help. Something. Anything to prevent the events that occurred in front of her from happening. When she saw the spear get pierced through Adam's body, her body went numb for a second. She couldn't move and her eyes were focused on the scene, knowing she shouldn't look, but not being able to prevent herself from doing so.
Witnessing a death, she didn't know what she could do. She just stared blankly, the reality of Adam's impending death not registering with her at first. She was trying to understand how this all could've happened. The two of them seemed to have been together for a long time. She knew things could get messy with how Maynard was reacting and the weapon in his hands. Yet the possibility of death never seem to click. She thought at worst someone could get slightly injured.
She could feel tears slowly falling from her face. She couldn't stop a death. In fact, it might even be her fault that Adam risked getting killed in the first place. Things had been falling downhill faster and faster, to the failure she had experienced yesterday with that crazy girl to the inability to do anything to prevent the looming death of Adam. Her fists clenched hardly, nails digging into her skin. Why was she still so powerless?
She then realized that Maynard was still there. The bastard. All he could get out was a pathetic apology. Why the fuck was he still here? It didn't matter to Sharon that it was an accident. She didn't want to hear Maynard's excuses or begs for apologies. She just didn't want to see him. She wanted him to turn around and get out of there. Withdrawing her 2x4, she wielded it and pointed it at Maynard aggressively.
"Why the fuck are you still here? Get the fuck out of here or I might be tempted to kill you myself!" Sharon wailed, tears still streaming down her face. She wanted to have some power, some say in the situation. She didn't want this to be an exercise in futility. She didn't want Maynard to have another death on his hands.
Thinking about that moment now though, she wished that she did do something to help. Something. Anything to prevent the events that occurred in front of her from happening. When she saw the spear get pierced through Adam's body, her body went numb for a second. She couldn't move and her eyes were focused on the scene, knowing she shouldn't look, but not being able to prevent herself from doing so.
Witnessing a death, she didn't know what she could do. She just stared blankly, the reality of Adam's impending death not registering with her at first. She was trying to understand how this all could've happened. The two of them seemed to have been together for a long time. She knew things could get messy with how Maynard was reacting and the weapon in his hands. Yet the possibility of death never seem to click. She thought at worst someone could get slightly injured.
She could feel tears slowly falling from her face. She couldn't stop a death. In fact, it might even be her fault that Adam risked getting killed in the first place. Things had been falling downhill faster and faster, to the failure she had experienced yesterday with that crazy girl to the inability to do anything to prevent the looming death of Adam. Her fists clenched hardly, nails digging into her skin. Why was she still so powerless?
She then realized that Maynard was still there. The bastard. All he could get out was a pathetic apology. Why the fuck was he still here? It didn't matter to Sharon that it was an accident. She didn't want to hear Maynard's excuses or begs for apologies. She just didn't want to see him. She wanted him to turn around and get out of there. Withdrawing her 2x4, she wielded it and pointed it at Maynard aggressively.
"Why the fuck are you still here? Get the fuck out of here or I might be tempted to kill you myself!" Sharon wailed, tears still streaming down her face. She wanted to have some power, some say in the situation. She didn't want this to be an exercise in futility. She didn't want Maynard to have another death on his hands.
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
For just a moment, Adam was going to wind back and sock Maynard in the face. For just a moment, all the rage and frustration that had been building in him for so long in this game had an avenue of release. It would have helped with the pain, somehow. It would have given him back some initiative, some agency.
Maynard's apology doused the flames inside of him, because it sounded genuine. Neither of them had wanted this, and now they had it and nothing more could be done. Sharon was telling Maynard to go, and Adam realized she really might kill him if he stuck around.
And would it be worse if she didn't, if he hung around and tried to somehow right what had gone wrong, if he was forced to confront another situation like Natali, only now one of his creation?
"Go," he mumbled. Then he managed to raise his voice, to focus a little through the pain. "You heard her. Go."
He was struggling to stay upright now, but he put all the energy he had left into that command.
"And you, too," he added, looking at Sharon.
No need for any of them to see this. No need for witnesses, for company. He had to be alone now. It was the only way he could stay strong.
Maynard's apology doused the flames inside of him, because it sounded genuine. Neither of them had wanted this, and now they had it and nothing more could be done. Sharon was telling Maynard to go, and Adam realized she really might kill him if he stuck around.
And would it be worse if she didn't, if he hung around and tried to somehow right what had gone wrong, if he was forced to confront another situation like Natali, only now one of his creation?
"Go," he mumbled. Then he managed to raise his voice, to focus a little through the pain. "You heard her. Go."
He was struggling to stay upright now, but he put all the energy he had left into that command.
"And you, too," he added, looking at Sharon.
No need for any of them to see this. No need for witnesses, for company. He had to be alone now. It was the only way he could stay strong.
Maynard's feet struggled to support his weight, every second that passed making him feel as though he was about to pass out, as though his legs would soon collapse beneath him. Every inch of him was shaking, the true reality of the situation making itself know to his body far before his mind managed to accept it, replaying everything that'd happened back in painfully vivid detail. He was only vaguely aware of the world continuing around him, of Sharon's screaming threats and wielding of her own weapon and Adam's contrasting calmness despite his wound.
They wanted him to leave. Both of them.
And just like he'd done with Adam the last week, with that one, impossible, exception, he did exactly as he'd been told, without a single thought to the contrary.
He nodded and swallowed hard as Adam echoed Sharon's instruction for him to leave, before retrieving his dropped sword from the ground and gathering his bags from where they lay neglected to his side. The tip of the blade was still coated with Adam's blood, glistening droplets dripping from his weapon as he dragged it away. Part of him wanted to leave it there, wanted to give it to Adam or Sharon as some sort of reparation for what he'd done, but the other part, the panicked part of him wholeheartedly concerned with self-preservation, urged him to keep it by his side. Adam and Sharon would be fine by themselves; they didn't need the addition of another weapon.
It was sick to think about, but the alternative was to return his focus on what he'd done, the injury he'd dealt to the sole constant in his life. Adam had spoken almost as though he was completely fine, and Maynard prayed to whatever deities there were in the universe that was true, but deep down he knew that it was hopeless. There was no taking back what he'd done, no magical healing of Adam's wound.
The only thing he could do for him now was obey his wishes and keep on praying that he'd be alright and offer him two final words to his partner as he turned to make his exit;
"Thank you."
Maynard left the hotel with shaking yet hurried steps, alone for the very first time on the island, save for his weapon and bags and the tears that now streamed freely down his face as he retreated from the building.
What'd happened had happened, and there was no going back.
He just hoped Adam would be fine.
For both their sakes.
((Maynard Hurst continued in Miles Behind Us))
They wanted him to leave. Both of them.
And just like he'd done with Adam the last week, with that one, impossible, exception, he did exactly as he'd been told, without a single thought to the contrary.
He nodded and swallowed hard as Adam echoed Sharon's instruction for him to leave, before retrieving his dropped sword from the ground and gathering his bags from where they lay neglected to his side. The tip of the blade was still coated with Adam's blood, glistening droplets dripping from his weapon as he dragged it away. Part of him wanted to leave it there, wanted to give it to Adam or Sharon as some sort of reparation for what he'd done, but the other part, the panicked part of him wholeheartedly concerned with self-preservation, urged him to keep it by his side. Adam and Sharon would be fine by themselves; they didn't need the addition of another weapon.
It was sick to think about, but the alternative was to return his focus on what he'd done, the injury he'd dealt to the sole constant in his life. Adam had spoken almost as though he was completely fine, and Maynard prayed to whatever deities there were in the universe that was true, but deep down he knew that it was hopeless. There was no taking back what he'd done, no magical healing of Adam's wound.
The only thing he could do for him now was obey his wishes and keep on praying that he'd be alright and offer him two final words to his partner as he turned to make his exit;
"Thank you."
Maynard left the hotel with shaking yet hurried steps, alone for the very first time on the island, save for his weapon and bags and the tears that now streamed freely down his face as he retreated from the building.
What'd happened had happened, and there was no going back.
He just hoped Adam would be fine.
For both their sakes.
((Maynard Hurst continued in Miles Behind Us))
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 290
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:35 pm
She was glad to hear that Adam agreed with her. She didn't want to deal with anymore of Maynard's bullshit, tears still slowly streaming from her eyes. A part of her wanted to get Maynard to leave the weapon, but she couldn't convince him. It was not worth the hassle to her. So instead, she was content with just staring angrily at him as he left, scoffing at the 'thank you' he gave, probably directed towards his former friend. If she wasn't absolutely furious with the guy, she might have found the thank you ironic or slightly humorous. Instead, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Hearing Adam's voice was a surprise. Having being caught up in her anger and frustration, the sudden reminder of someone dying before her was a bit of a wake-up call and helped remind her to rein in her emotions. Realizing the state she was in, she took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. She managed to stop herself from crying, but she still felt the frustration of not being in control.
"Nice try buddy." Sharon responded, putting away her 2x4 into her bag and moving towards Adam. Sharon was not just going to leave him to die alone. She wish she was there for Steven when he died. She also knew the pains that came from being alone having spent most of her time on the island and some time back at home experiencing the pain of isolation. She didn't want Adam's last moments to be one which he spent slowly bleeding out alone. Hopefully the time would be quick, as every moment he spent alive, he was probably in serious pain.
"I couldn't be there for my friend who died. I'm not going to let you be alone at your final hour." Sharon explained, leaving her things with her bag that she unceremoniously chucked next to her bike. She sat next to Adam on the floor, knowing that there was not much she could do with regards to comfort. She didn't know first aid, so she couldn't patch up the stab wound. She also didn't know magic to somehow make his wound magically heal. The only thing she could probably do was talk. She wanted to do anything to help ease the pain of passing.
"I'm a stubborn bitch, so I'm not going anywhere. What do you want to talk about?"
Hearing Adam's voice was a surprise. Having being caught up in her anger and frustration, the sudden reminder of someone dying before her was a bit of a wake-up call and helped remind her to rein in her emotions. Realizing the state she was in, she took a few deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. She managed to stop herself from crying, but she still felt the frustration of not being in control.
"Nice try buddy." Sharon responded, putting away her 2x4 into her bag and moving towards Adam. Sharon was not just going to leave him to die alone. She wish she was there for Steven when he died. She also knew the pains that came from being alone having spent most of her time on the island and some time back at home experiencing the pain of isolation. She didn't want Adam's last moments to be one which he spent slowly bleeding out alone. Hopefully the time would be quick, as every moment he spent alive, he was probably in serious pain.
"I couldn't be there for my friend who died. I'm not going to let you be alone at your final hour." Sharon explained, leaving her things with her bag that she unceremoniously chucked next to her bike. She sat next to Adam on the floor, knowing that there was not much she could do with regards to comfort. She didn't know first aid, so she couldn't patch up the stab wound. She also didn't know magic to somehow make his wound magically heal. The only thing she could probably do was talk. She wanted to do anything to help ease the pain of passing.
"I'm a stubborn bitch, so I'm not going anywhere. What do you want to talk about?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Damn," Adam muttered. Maynard was gone, at least. He was off on his own. He wouldn't see this. It was something.
Adam had dropped at some point, down on one knee, and Sharon was there next to him. The rain had finally stopped. It was overcast, almost like a day back in Seattle. He could close his eyes and think he'd be going home after school, if it wasn't for the pain. It was funny. Having been stabbed hurt more than being stabbed did.
"I'm going inside," he said. "You don't have to come."
He dragged himself back to his feet and stumbled through the doors, back into the hotel. The smell didn't bother him now. He couldn't smell anything. The edges of his vision were a little fuzzy. All he could think of was how damn long it took Michelle to go. Each step was a battle, but he kept moving, managing to shrug Sharon off the first time she tried to steady him. She didn't try again. Step by step he moved through the lobby, through the carnage and wreckage. He didn't pay much mind to it. Maybe it would keep Sharon from following him.
His destination was clear: against the wall, shredded and mangled and burned but still recognizable, was a couch. Adam managed to reach it, managed to turn and slump into it in something almost like a casual sitting posture.
There was a trail of blood leading from the outside to where he now rested. It wasn't just little drops, either. He wasn't going to walk this off. On some level, he'd known it from the second it had happened. It was a sobering thought. He'd seen a movie or TV show once, sometime long ago, where a man had been dying. He'd sat on a bench and taken a long swing from a bottle of whiskey, and maybe it had been a western or a cop movie or something, damned if he could remember now, but the man had looked strong and brave and Adam needed a little strength and bravery right now.
Had he been alone, perhaps he would have finally broken down. He wasn't going to, though. Not with Sharon here. She stood or maybe squatted facing him. He was glad he couldn't see her face.
He dug the package of cigarettes out of his pocket and slowly stuck one in his mouth. He tried to tuck the box back away in his pocket, but couldn't quite manage. It tumbled to the floor at his feet. He made no effort to retrieve his Bic and light up. It didn't matter now.
"You want to talk?" he asked, voice slurred by the pain and his occupied mouth. The silence stretched for a moment.
"It's not like we both have anything better to do," Sharon said.
He grimaced as something inside shifted and tried to turn the choked groan into a chuckle. He bit down on the cigarette, teeth clenching around the filter. He forced words out between his teeth.
"The crazy thing is," Adam said, "I'm kind of glad this happened. I always thought it would go the other way. I thought—fuck, a lot of the time I thought I was right on the edge. I thought maybe when someone finally caught Maynard, when I didn't have to look after him anymore, maybe I'd start looking after myself."
"You can't really predict what can happen here. Fate tends to mess up any plans," Sharon said. Adam was listening, but he wasn't really engaging with her. He didn't have enough time left to care too much about being polite. He didn't have any ideas left about fate. Maybe he'd never had any in the first place.
"Michelle asked us not to go after Eliza," he said instead. "I didn't get it. You know, I thought she was crazy. She and Paulo, man, and Cooper. Always the crazy ones. But I think I get it now. Sometimes, things happen. We suffer enough already."
He took a long drag on his unlit cigarette, took it between his fingers and out of his mouth to exhale. He returned it to his mouth. The paper was getting soggy.
"The island does that to you," Sharon said. "It messes with your mind, destroys you from the inside till there's basically nothing left. The worse thing is that there's nothing any of us could do about it."
Adam looked down at himself as she talked. It was funny, what she said about being destroyed from the inside. Probably she wouldn't have said it that way if she'd been thinking more clearly. A good old Freudian slip. Because it wasn't just a trail of blood now, but a pool forming around him, staining the couch and his pants and wrecking his jacket. Were his hands going pale? Was that even how this worked, or was his vision just going?
"I never found Paulo," he said. "I never found Cooper. It's funny, man."
It was. He giggled. He wasn't paying attention to anything Sharon was saying or not saying anymore.
"You know, I'd never thought fuckin' Cooper would be the last one standing. He was a faker, you know? I don't think he knew, but I could tell."
He felt warm from the waist down. Was it a lack of feeling, or the heat from the blood dripping down the backs of his legs?
"I never found Paulo," he said. He blinked. "Did I tell you that already?
"And Natali, fuck, I didn't even know Natali. And she hit her head and I never noticed. She and Maynard, and I never noticed. And Paulo went and got thrown off a bridge. He was a good guy. I don't think I ever told him that."
There were a lot of things he'd never said. Had he told his sisters goodbye before the trip? And it hurt. Why did it still hurt? It wasn't supposed to hurt. He'd never talked this much, had probably said more in the last few minutes than the last week all rolled together.
"I never found Paulo," he said, "or Cooper."
He was circling, but moving still, always moving. Even now, he was running, running his mouth, running away. He almost couldn't bear to face it, except that now, here at the end, there really wasn't any way things could get worse, could they? What more could he possibly lose?
"I think I'm done talking," he said. He closed his eyes and sucked air through the cigarette and cringed and winced as the knives inside him turned. He opened his eyes again and it didn't look any different from when they were closed. He blinked twice and nothing changed, and he opened his mouth because he felt a bubble of something metallic on his tongue and the cigarette fell out. He tried to catch it and missed.
He laid his head back and was almost but not quite grateful as the pain slowly, finally began to recede.
Adam had dropped at some point, down on one knee, and Sharon was there next to him. The rain had finally stopped. It was overcast, almost like a day back in Seattle. He could close his eyes and think he'd be going home after school, if it wasn't for the pain. It was funny. Having been stabbed hurt more than being stabbed did.
"I'm going inside," he said. "You don't have to come."
He dragged himself back to his feet and stumbled through the doors, back into the hotel. The smell didn't bother him now. He couldn't smell anything. The edges of his vision were a little fuzzy. All he could think of was how damn long it took Michelle to go. Each step was a battle, but he kept moving, managing to shrug Sharon off the first time she tried to steady him. She didn't try again. Step by step he moved through the lobby, through the carnage and wreckage. He didn't pay much mind to it. Maybe it would keep Sharon from following him.
His destination was clear: against the wall, shredded and mangled and burned but still recognizable, was a couch. Adam managed to reach it, managed to turn and slump into it in something almost like a casual sitting posture.
There was a trail of blood leading from the outside to where he now rested. It wasn't just little drops, either. He wasn't going to walk this off. On some level, he'd known it from the second it had happened. It was a sobering thought. He'd seen a movie or TV show once, sometime long ago, where a man had been dying. He'd sat on a bench and taken a long swing from a bottle of whiskey, and maybe it had been a western or a cop movie or something, damned if he could remember now, but the man had looked strong and brave and Adam needed a little strength and bravery right now.
Had he been alone, perhaps he would have finally broken down. He wasn't going to, though. Not with Sharon here. She stood or maybe squatted facing him. He was glad he couldn't see her face.
He dug the package of cigarettes out of his pocket and slowly stuck one in his mouth. He tried to tuck the box back away in his pocket, but couldn't quite manage. It tumbled to the floor at his feet. He made no effort to retrieve his Bic and light up. It didn't matter now.
"You want to talk?" he asked, voice slurred by the pain and his occupied mouth. The silence stretched for a moment.
"It's not like we both have anything better to do," Sharon said.
He grimaced as something inside shifted and tried to turn the choked groan into a chuckle. He bit down on the cigarette, teeth clenching around the filter. He forced words out between his teeth.
"The crazy thing is," Adam said, "I'm kind of glad this happened. I always thought it would go the other way. I thought—fuck, a lot of the time I thought I was right on the edge. I thought maybe when someone finally caught Maynard, when I didn't have to look after him anymore, maybe I'd start looking after myself."
"You can't really predict what can happen here. Fate tends to mess up any plans," Sharon said. Adam was listening, but he wasn't really engaging with her. He didn't have enough time left to care too much about being polite. He didn't have any ideas left about fate. Maybe he'd never had any in the first place.
"Michelle asked us not to go after Eliza," he said instead. "I didn't get it. You know, I thought she was crazy. She and Paulo, man, and Cooper. Always the crazy ones. But I think I get it now. Sometimes, things happen. We suffer enough already."
He took a long drag on his unlit cigarette, took it between his fingers and out of his mouth to exhale. He returned it to his mouth. The paper was getting soggy.
"The island does that to you," Sharon said. "It messes with your mind, destroys you from the inside till there's basically nothing left. The worse thing is that there's nothing any of us could do about it."
Adam looked down at himself as she talked. It was funny, what she said about being destroyed from the inside. Probably she wouldn't have said it that way if she'd been thinking more clearly. A good old Freudian slip. Because it wasn't just a trail of blood now, but a pool forming around him, staining the couch and his pants and wrecking his jacket. Were his hands going pale? Was that even how this worked, or was his vision just going?
"I never found Paulo," he said. "I never found Cooper. It's funny, man."
It was. He giggled. He wasn't paying attention to anything Sharon was saying or not saying anymore.
"You know, I'd never thought fuckin' Cooper would be the last one standing. He was a faker, you know? I don't think he knew, but I could tell."
He felt warm from the waist down. Was it a lack of feeling, or the heat from the blood dripping down the backs of his legs?
"I never found Paulo," he said. He blinked. "Did I tell you that already?
"And Natali, fuck, I didn't even know Natali. And she hit her head and I never noticed. She and Maynard, and I never noticed. And Paulo went and got thrown off a bridge. He was a good guy. I don't think I ever told him that."
There were a lot of things he'd never said. Had he told his sisters goodbye before the trip? And it hurt. Why did it still hurt? It wasn't supposed to hurt. He'd never talked this much, had probably said more in the last few minutes than the last week all rolled together.
"I never found Paulo," he said, "or Cooper."
He was circling, but moving still, always moving. Even now, he was running, running his mouth, running away. He almost couldn't bear to face it, except that now, here at the end, there really wasn't any way things could get worse, could they? What more could he possibly lose?
"I think I'm done talking," he said. He closed his eyes and sucked air through the cigarette and cringed and winced as the knives inside him turned. He opened his eyes again and it didn't look any different from when they were closed. He blinked twice and nothing changed, and he opened his mouth because he felt a bubble of something metallic on his tongue and the cigarette fell out. He tried to catch it and missed.
He laid his head back and was almost but not quite grateful as the pain slowly, finally began to recede.
B002, Adam Morgan: DECEASED
64 STUDENTS REMAIN
64 STUDENTS REMAIN
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jimmydalad
- Posts: 290
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:35 pm
She could really see that Adam was out of it. Standing up, Sharon could only watch as the boy slowly started to slink towards the barrier between life and death. She saw his unsteady body as he pushed himself to walk and instinctively, a part of her wanted to help. When she tried to steady him though, Adam almost immediately shrugged her off. She could see and smell the death and decay around her. She stayed strong though, moreso for Adam than herself.
Once Adam reached his spot, Sharon decided to squat in front of him, not wanting to get too much of her body to touch the floor. She didn't trust it very much, owing to the number of dead bodies that littered the place. Watching Adam was surreal. It was like he was trying to pretend he didn't have a giant hole that was bleeding out tons of blood. She could even notice the trail that he left behind, almost like a scene of a crime.
At first, Sharon tried to engage in conversation with Adam, giving responses that seemed to flow with the conversation. However, as time went on, she realized that Adam really wasn't paying that much attention to her responses. Giving the situation, Sharon wasn't very surprised. She was actually quite impressed with how he was able to coherently stream words while pretend to smoke a cigarette.
She didn't really get that.
The responses were natural, but at the same time, she was surprised by what she said. At first, she didn't recognize the irony of her last statement, but thinking back to it, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself in embarrassment. After saying that, she picked up that she probably should stop talking. It wasn't like she had anything else of importance to say or that Adam would be able to come up with a coherent response.
Instead she listened. Hearing the ramblings of a dying man was an experience she knew she probably could never experience again. She took in all his regrets, his inability to find his friends during his time here. She felt the weight on her shoulders as Adam repeated the names. Paolo and Cooper. Paolo and Cooper. She knew his time was coming soon, he was forgetting things that he had just said, each word acting like a wisp of life that drifted out of him and flowed in the air. Sharon stayed deathly still, unable to look away.
The moment came. Sharon listened as Adam demanded that death take him away. She watched as the cigarette fell out of his mouth and he took in his last inhale. Even after the moment had passed, she continued to watch. While her mind was telling her he was dead, she almost expected him to suddenly stir back to life.
Yet he didn't.
So Sharon watched. She didn't know how long she there for. She could only stare, her thoughts clouded as the realization of death loomed over her. Her body was deathly still, her eyes empty. There wasn't really anything she could say to compensate for the overwhelming blanket of lifelessness that shrouded over her and the lobby.
Everything seemed hopeless. There was nothing she could have done to save him. She couldn't save the guy from before. She couldn't save Owen and Aileen's things from being taken from them. She felt like she was being strung from one thing to another like a slideshow presentation. Watching Adam die before her made her understand.
Whoever made this game was chillingly smart.
She thought about the experiences she had on the island. She thought about Steven and Adam. The illusion of escape or other methods was always present. Steven tried to convince others to stop killing, but he ended up dead. Adam spent most of the time with Maynard in an attempt to work together, but he ended up stabbed by that same person. It seemed like no matter what path she took, she was going to end up facing death one way or another.
There was no escape.
The only thing left to do was play. She had ways to kill. She just had to be smart about it. Maybe an opportunity would present itself. She just had to wait and see. As she went to gather up all of Adam's stuff, a noticeable droop was present and her face was solemn. It wasn't like she could do anything else.
Once she had gathered all of Adam's things, Sharon set out. A part of her wished that she had died along with Adam. It almost seemed like a blessing now.
((Sharon continued elsewhere...))
Once Adam reached his spot, Sharon decided to squat in front of him, not wanting to get too much of her body to touch the floor. She didn't trust it very much, owing to the number of dead bodies that littered the place. Watching Adam was surreal. It was like he was trying to pretend he didn't have a giant hole that was bleeding out tons of blood. She could even notice the trail that he left behind, almost like a scene of a crime.
At first, Sharon tried to engage in conversation with Adam, giving responses that seemed to flow with the conversation. However, as time went on, she realized that Adam really wasn't paying that much attention to her responses. Giving the situation, Sharon wasn't very surprised. She was actually quite impressed with how he was able to coherently stream words while pretend to smoke a cigarette.
She didn't really get that.
The responses were natural, but at the same time, she was surprised by what she said. At first, she didn't recognize the irony of her last statement, but thinking back to it, she couldn't help but chuckle to herself in embarrassment. After saying that, she picked up that she probably should stop talking. It wasn't like she had anything else of importance to say or that Adam would be able to come up with a coherent response.
Instead she listened. Hearing the ramblings of a dying man was an experience she knew she probably could never experience again. She took in all his regrets, his inability to find his friends during his time here. She felt the weight on her shoulders as Adam repeated the names. Paolo and Cooper. Paolo and Cooper. She knew his time was coming soon, he was forgetting things that he had just said, each word acting like a wisp of life that drifted out of him and flowed in the air. Sharon stayed deathly still, unable to look away.
The moment came. Sharon listened as Adam demanded that death take him away. She watched as the cigarette fell out of his mouth and he took in his last inhale. Even after the moment had passed, she continued to watch. While her mind was telling her he was dead, she almost expected him to suddenly stir back to life.
Yet he didn't.
So Sharon watched. She didn't know how long she there for. She could only stare, her thoughts clouded as the realization of death loomed over her. Her body was deathly still, her eyes empty. There wasn't really anything she could say to compensate for the overwhelming blanket of lifelessness that shrouded over her and the lobby.
Everything seemed hopeless. There was nothing she could have done to save him. She couldn't save the guy from before. She couldn't save Owen and Aileen's things from being taken from them. She felt like she was being strung from one thing to another like a slideshow presentation. Watching Adam die before her made her understand.
Whoever made this game was chillingly smart.
She thought about the experiences she had on the island. She thought about Steven and Adam. The illusion of escape or other methods was always present. Steven tried to convince others to stop killing, but he ended up dead. Adam spent most of the time with Maynard in an attempt to work together, but he ended up stabbed by that same person. It seemed like no matter what path she took, she was going to end up facing death one way or another.
There was no escape.
The only thing left to do was play. She had ways to kill. She just had to be smart about it. Maybe an opportunity would present itself. She just had to wait and see. As she went to gather up all of Adam's stuff, a noticeable droop was present and her face was solemn. It wasn't like she could do anything else.
Once she had gathered all of Adam's things, Sharon set out. A part of her wished that she had died along with Adam. It almost seemed like a blessing now.
((Sharon continued elsewhere...))