"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Regrets
When Roy O'Connor was 28 his mother died of cancer. It had been a hard time for his father, who'd stayed by her until the end, and Roy hadn't had it much better off. He was single and lonely and had a dead-end job and even his father withdrew from him, too. He turned to drinking, and didn't climb back onto the wagon until his last remaining companion Jason Locke snapped him out of it. He said, "When things go to shit, you gotta talk about it. Not even just in words; find your own voice."

Jason had been a musician, and Roy knew exactly what he'd meant by that. Jason was like that; his words could be cryptic, but they always made sense. That was why they were friends for as long as they'd known each other, and as long as they would continue to know each other. Roy took up painting and writing, and became a self-made man on these hobbies because they weren't just hobbies but his voice.

He met a woman who'd done the same thing, named Ann, and they'd married. But it hadn't worked out.

But when they broke apart, they'd had a daughter. Gwen was a bright girl, but she took more after her old man than her mom. She was an artist, too, and though her medium of choice differed she had her voice. And Gwen grew up to be a strong and wise young woman, and Roy couldn't be more proud. He was so thankful that she turned out so well, and he'd never admit it but he was thankful Ann had raised her right. When Roy's dad had died it'd been hard, but Jason and Gwen had pulled him through.

Then the plane crashed.

Roy turned back to drinking. Jason brought him back again., but it was even harder. They became closer than ever. Then SOTF was revealed. And Gwen was alive, but dead all over all at once. Roy didn't even know how to feel; all he could do was stare at his computer screen and watch her.

He watched as she hid tearful in a closet in a lighthouse.

He watched as she found her way to a group, and made friends and a plan.

He watched as she traveled, and found death everywhere.

He watched as her friends died.

Yesterday he watched as his little girl threw herself off a cliff.

Now he was in study with a half-empty whiskey and a blank word document and too many regrets. Jason was in the other room; Roy had instructed him not to come in until he came back out. Now he regretted that choice and so many more. He regretted that Gwen wasn't here, that she'd never be here again. He regretted that he hadn't taken every moment she'd had on this earth and had it with her because he'd never have one of those moments again. Roy regretted one thing above all, though.

He regretted how at this point he couldn't even cry anymore.

Roy sighed, and buried his face in his hands. He had cried when the plane had supposedly crashed, and when the broadcast had begun. But when she'd died all he could do was power off the computer and go to bed. It'd been 6 PM and at 6 AM he'd gone down to the study. It was 6 PM again now and he hadn't left. He wondered what his dad would say, or his mom, or even Gwen. All the people that he loved were gone; he'd never been the most outgoing type and had never had many friends. So his few loved ones were so dear to him he couldn't imagine living without them. Now he had no choice but to do just that.

Only one person was left and Roy could only assume that he'd be gone one day and Roy would be all alone. So Roy took a few deep breaths, swallowed the rest of the whiskey, and looked bleary-eyed back at the computer screen. Find his voice; that was his other companion, his companion that he would not lose. If he could speak with words on paper and colors on canvas then he'd never really be alone.

One thing left to do for Roy.

He began to write.