Going forward

[crabCaptain*]

Isabel wanted to stand up and face Lucia. Tell her everything. Tell her sorry.

She felt small. Like the tiniest insignificant cell on a massive creature. She felt another pair of eyes boring into her skull. Lucia.

Isabel began to slowly turn herself around.

She didn't even make it a quarter of the way there.

A loud bang. A sharp pain in the side of her skull. Warm wet blood. A cry out. Isabel lurched forward.

Another bang.

TB2: Isabel Santana- DECEASED

[Pippi]

The first bullet struck. Drew blood. Caused pain. Not a killing blow.

The second hit Isabel shortly after. A direct hit. She stopped moving. Blood spattered against the floor in front of her. She fell forwards.

Lucia, too, was still for a moment. Then, the reality of what had just happened hit her. She took two steps backwards, wide eyes staring at Isabel’s corpse. Her grip on the gun wavered, loosened, until finally it tumbled from her grasp, bouncing twice against the floor. Each time it sounded like a cannon was being fired.

She had promised she would never kill again. Promised herself, promised Marcus, promised her family. Yes, Isabel had shot someone right in front of her, and yes, she would likely have killed Lucia as well, but that didn’t matter, not to Lucia right now.

She had murdered three people. She knew of this game, of Survival of the Fittest, and she knew that there were so many reasons that people killed each other. At some point, though, those reasons no longer counted for anything, and their actions became inexcusable. Had she crossed that point? Marcus had said her family would just want to see her safe and sound. She had believed him. Would that still apply now?

She couldn’t stay here in this room. Lucia looked frantically around herself, picked the first doorway she could see and sprinted through it, searching for a place that she could just curl up in and vanish.

She didn’t notice that the familiar weight in her pocket was still missing.

[Maraoone]

((Cathryn Bailey continues from Silver Lights))

Cathryn wasn't quite sure where to head, despite the lack of choices. She'd forgotten to take note of that, the danger zones. More than once, her collar suddenly started beeping, and Cathryn would be startled. But then, she'd chuckle at herself and head in the opposite direction. After a while, a half-plan formed in her head. The theater was off-limits, considering Jackson was there, last time she saw him. And at the sports center, after leaving Leah behind, there had been a familiar voice. One she refused to forget. So, on the slightest whim, she headed towards here.

The beam of light moved around a rather unfamiliar part of the center. Some type of lobby. There were bodies here, but they elicited no reaction from Cathryn. Her footsteps, as much as she tried to lighten them, made the slightest echoes in the building. She walked around, not really sure what to do. And then, she smiled. Or, at least, her eyes did. The bandages around her cheek did nothing to minimize the pain, so she taught herself not to use her mouth that much.

A pistol lay on the floor, quite a distance away from a boy's body. She set down the flashlight so it pointed up, and picked the pistol up with her right hand, winced once again as her shoulder moved. She'd have to get used to that. She examined it, noted that it was probably the most typical gun ever. Somewhat lighter than Zoe's, she thought. It would probably be easier to use.

All of a sudden, other footsteps. She pointed her gun at where they came from. The dark made it hard to tell, but bit by bit, she recognized a face, etched with fear. Cathryn just looked at her, at Lucia. Pointed her pistol.

Moving her lips as little as possible, she spoke.

"Well, looks like I found you."

[Pippi]

Lucia had found a side room after a few minutes of wandering aimlessly. Small, compact, out of the way. She had walked in and closed the door behind her. It was dark, but not oppressively so. Safe, rather than crushing.

She just wanted to be alone for a while.

Lucia had curled herself up into a ball, knees tucked up close to her and arms wrapped around her legs. She alternated between blinking away tears, feeling them soak into her track pants, and trying to regulate her breathing when it felt like she was draining all the air from the tiny room.

It was stupid, she kept on telling herself, to be reacting in this way. Insulting, even, to the families and memories of the people she had killed, to be in so much emotional pain. She was still alive, after all. Still breathing. It didn’t feel that way, though. She’d lost herself. If she survived right until the very end, then the Lucia who was placed on the resort and the Lucia who stepped off of it would be two separate entities entirely.

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to do this anymore. All she wanted was to be the quiet painter girl forevermore, with all the insignificant worries of her past life the only thing to concern her. She wanted to see her family again, without the looming knowledge that their relationship would have been irreversibly changed.

She just wanted to paint.

Eventually, Lucia managed to wear herself out. A culmination of general exhaustion and non-stop fretting and worrying saw to that. She fell into a restless, uneasy sleep, constantly on the brink of waking up.

After a couple of hours, she was roused from her dozing state by the sound of an opening and closing door, followed by footsteps. There was yet another person – or, worst case scenario, yet more people – in the sports centre. Part of Lucia begged her to stay where she was, hidden away in a side room. But there was always a chance that whoever had just arrived would search the place. She was in an awful position anyway. In this case, her best bet looked like confronting the intruders head on, as awful as that sounded.

At least she still had some means of protection.

As carefully as she could, Lucia eased the door open, flinching as it let out a squeak that could raise the dead. Slowly, almost walking on tiptoes, she made her way back to the entry lobby.

There was only one person still on the resort that Lucia dreaded to face again, and her blood turned to ice as she saw Cathryn Bailey standing in front of her. This was not the same situation that they had been in back in the museum. Cathryn had been almost entirely unarmed then, and innocent. Now, she had a number of kills under her belt, and a gun pointed straight at Lucia. A gun that looked suspiciously similar...

Lucia’s heart kick-started back into action as she realised that the familiar weight in her pocket was gone. Even so, she frantically rummaged dug her hands into her pockets, searching desperately for her last line of defence. Nothing. Somehow it had wound its way into Cathryn’s hands.

Fast, shaky breaths exited Lucia, as she searched desperately for some means of response. Cathryn had found her, and Lucia was completely at her mercy.

“Please...”

How many times had Lucia said that word? And how much use had it been?

“Please, Cathryn... You... You can’t do this... You do not... do not understand...”

She could, and Lucia damn well knew it.

[Maraoone]

For Leah.

"No."

She pulled the trigger twice.

[Pippi]

Two more bullets flew from Lucia’s gun.

Two more bullets hit their target.

This time, Lucia was on the receiving end.

The pain was instantaneous, sending Lucia staggering backwards several steps. It was like being punched in the gut, only after the initial hit, the pain remained just as sharp and pronounced. It was only shock that prevented Lucia from reacting. The world seemed dulled, slowed down, like she was the only thing moving on the planet.

She looked down, and already there was a crimson stain, so very visible against the bright greens and blues of her clothes, matching the one formed underneath Isabel’s body. Instinctively, Lucia’s hands shot to her stomach, clutching it tightly, as if it would do something of any use. All she got was bright red hands, sticky with her own blood.

And now the pain was taking control and the world was coming back into focus and Cathryn was still standing there and this wasn’t all some horrible horrible dream and

Lucia’s legs gave way underneath her, and she collapsed, right hand trying to grab hold of the smooth wood surface of the reception desk. She looked up at Cathryn, tears streaming down her face. She was still there. Still holding the gun. Still in complete, awful control.

“I’m sorry!” Lucia blurted out. This was no longer her quiet, often inaudible voice. This was frantic, panicked. Desperate.

“I-I didn’t want to do it! I had to! Just... Please, you have to believe me!”

She wouldn’t. Lucia could scream for mercy as much as she liked.

There was steel in Cathryn’s eyes.

[Maraoone]

"Well. It's too late now, isn't it?"

Cathryn was in control. Very much so. She dictated the pace of this event. Who screamed first, when, how long, who fired the shots, where it'd go, when the end would come, how long. Who walked out of here alive. And no other factors to shake things up. But. When she first saw Jewel, Cathryn had imagined that it was emotionless, impersonal. Or even fun. But there was plenty of emotion. Behind her face, her rage, her fear, and her regrets stirred and boiled as she looked upon Lucia, upon her bloody form. She felt no relief at having brought down Leah's killer. She felt sick.

"I never had much."

She winced slightly. Every word, marked with pain. She hoped it was like that for Lucia too.

"Leah was one of my only friends. You took that away from me."

She blinked away a few tears. Intensified her glare.

"That had a cost."

And how dear that cost was. If it weren't for that one bullet plunging itself into Leah's chest, Lucia would've been a nobody, or even an almost-friend like Nina. The girl seemed nice enough for those few minutes before she realized who she was. And while that made it all slightly harder to hate Lucia, she still hated her all the same.

"By the way, what happens if I believe you? Prove that you had to do it."

[Pippi]

“She... I...”

Lucia looked up despairingly at Cathryn. The pain in her stomach was growing with every second that passed, like there was a fire inside of her that Cathryn was personally stoking. She tried to shift herself, tried to do something to numb the pain if only a little, but that simply sent a spasm of pain shooting through her, causing Lucia to cry out.

Her mind was forced back to the diner, back to here a few days and a few hours ago. All those deaths she had witnessed, had caused with her own two hands, they had been quick. A shot, a kill. Then it was over. Cathryn could have done the same. One quick pull of the trigger and it’d have been over. Justice would have been done. Did she do this on purpose? Was she drawing Lucia’s agony out as long as possible?

Lucia wanted to hate Cathryn but all she felt was fear.

There was no way Lucia could prove that she had been backed into a corner when Leah had appeared. All witnesses to her crime were dead, now. As for Lucia herself, her own mind was clouded with so much doubt that even she didn’t believe she was totally innocent. There was no way she could prove it and there was no way Cathryn would believe her, even if she did. But she had to try. She had to do something. It couldn’t all end here, on the floor in some dark, dusty, abandoned building.

“She... she ran at me. She ran at me! She had a shotgun, and... I was so scared and oh god, please, just... help me! I don’t want to die here!”

Neither had Austin. Neither had Isabel. Neither had Leah.

[Maraoone]

"You already said that before."

That was, almost word-for-word, what Lucia told Cathryn back at the aqua-museum. She guessed that that would happen. Honestly, part of her felt that no answer would ever be enough. It would probably never satisfy the why's of Leah's death, the 'did she deserve it's. But maybe, just maybe, she might've gotten some catharsis out of this, some reason. She might've gotten the truth.

Maybe the truth wasn't enough.

She raised her gun one more time, pointed it at Lucia. Her finger was on the trigger. She kept it there for one, two, ten, thirty, sixty seconds. And then she put it down.

"You won't die here, really. If you want to. You can drag yourself somewhere else, maybe outside. You can die there."

She put the gun in her bag, and left without sparing a glance towards Lucia.

((Cathryn Bailey continues in Closing In))

[Pippi]

Lucia stared down the barrel of the gun for a second.

Her answer hadn’t been good enough for Cathryn. Even if she’d provided photographic evidence, then it wouldn’t have been enough. This wasn’t a search for answers. This was an act of revenge, retribution for Leah’s death.

Every breath hurt, now. The pain was as sharp as ever in her stomach, but parts of her were beginning to feel numb. At least this way, it would be quick. She’d be free of the pain any second now. Lucia closed her eyes, and waited.

As she waited, she tried to accept that she was about to die, tried to push down the panic that wanted to erupt from her. She prayed that there would be something waiting for her on the other side.

She prayed that her family would be alright.

She prayed that they would forgive their stupid, scared daughter.

She wondered why Cathryn hadn’t fired.

Lucia opened her eyes just in time to see Cathryn lower the gun and put it in her bag, just in time to see her turn around and leave. That was her final act of revenge. No quick death. Only pain in her last few moments.

Lucia yelled and cried for help, pleading for Cathryn to come back, for her mother, for her father, for anyone to come and save her, until it hurt too much to even do that. Her mind raced, fuelled by pain and panic. Her bag, where was her bag? Somewhere in here, it had to be, there was no way she had lost it. Was it in the side room? It was the only option.

Lucia frantically grabbed hold of the wall and floor and used it to drag herself along, back into the corridor. Each and every movement felt like she was being torn apart, but she was so close, so close to first aid, the possibility of sanctuary.

Lucia blacked out for a few seconds, and as soon as she did, she knew it was over. She would never reach the room in time. She would never see her family again.

She closed her eyes and the world vanished.

She had been so close.


IS3-LUCIA DEL PIRLO; DECEASED