My Own Little Nowhere

[Catche Jagger]

Austin was dead. Jen knew that well before the announcements made sure there could be no doubt.

((Jen Mara Tuiqamea continued from Inner Animal))

She had run from the Circle, away from the gunshots and the blood and the death that she had brought there, and hobbled along when she couldn’t run anymore, finally collapsing beside a tree, her legs screaming, aching.

That was when she started to cry, tears streaming down her face. She had tried to hold them back, as she had all the way here, to bury them down and remain stern and focused, collected and prepared for the situation at hand, but some low whimper seemed to escape her throat, and with it all resistance seemed to give way.

Jen was alone again, like it always seemed to go for her, sobbing, shaking, no one there to see but the very people that had put her here to begin with.

Her hands wouldn’t remain still, so she balled them into fists and she closed her eyes, making herself closed off and small, that she might very well shrink further and further until she was nowhere at all.

To be nowhere and to be nothing would be better than to be here.

For a time, all seemed still and she might have thought that she had accomplished such a feat, but a voice erupted from a nearby speaker, and proved the idea to be nothing more than idle fantasy.

The dead were rattled off including Austin and the girl he had killed, apparently named Philia. The voice also revealed that Xander had not succeeded in killing the quiet girl from the night before. The girl, who the voice called Seychelle, had managed to get the better of him in the end.

Now only five remained on the island, the voice claimed, and they were to gather back at the Circle for some final showdown where only one would survive.

But a thought wandered into her mind, that perhaps she would be better off staying here in the rainforest. The voice made clear that any who refused to come to the Circle would be killed, but maybe she would be better off that way. Jen’s persistence in this twisted game had only seen more senseless deaths.

It would be better that she die here, curled up in a place of safety, than to see more violence and death, to drag anyone else down with her.

Jen could feel her body tighten with that resolve, the determination to see this plan through. She would not take part in this game any longer.

She could be at peace with that.






The tears stopped.











And so Jen waited.












And the silence about her seemed to persist.

















How long would it feel to spend an hour like this in silence?












There was a rustling of some low plantlife nearby, and Jen let out a yelp, grabbing for her rifle again and stumbling awkwardly to her feet, pointing the weapon every which way as she tried to identify the source of the noise. Her heart raced, and her breathing was heavy.

And yet she saw no one. No Ajay, no Seychelle, nothing. The noise had almost certainly been from some small animal scurrying off or something like that.

She let out a yell, then. It was angry, bitter, tearing up her throat and leaving her feeling hoarse.

Her “resolve” felt like little more than a fantasy now too.

So where did that leave her?


((Jen Mara Tuiqamea continued in Endgame))