"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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dmboogie
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A Delicate Machine
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Wayne didn't seem to want to talk much, but that was fine. Asha had given him a chance to speak, and pushing him any further would just be rude. If he wanted to talk later, she'd still be around, hopefully. People had to deal with that shit at their own paces, she could get that. 'Home' was honestly a topic that Asha'd prefer to avoid, herself. Sure, she was gonna die and that was all well and good and didn't bear questioning anymore, but it honestly still hurt to think about what'd happen afterwards.

Asha had it easy. In the end, if she still existed, she'd probably have some swanky afterlife to occupy herself with, or at least be able to haunt the shit outta some nerds. If she didn't exist anymore, well, that was that. Her family, though? Her friends? They'd have to live with her death for the rest of their lives. It'd destroy her mom, probably. From what Asha'd heard of her life, she'd had it rough before she made it to the US. Asha hated the thought that she'd just be another dagger stuck deep into everyone's hearts, leaving scar after scar after scar in her wake. She'd never wanted to hurt anyone.

Dorothy seemed to be thinking the same thing, poor girl. Asha wished she knew what answer to give her, so she could turn right around and say it to herself too. "Sorry, Dot, but I don't think that's a good idea. I mean, in a parallel universe where a meteor hit our bus and instantly killed us all, do you really think that our parents would want to pick through the rubble, and when they find our crispy, grotesque bodies, think to themselves 'this used to be our beloved daughter, who we sung to sleep at night and looked after our entire life'? Hell no. So this is the same thing. We're dead, every single one of us, the world's just missed the memo for a while, yeah? Forcing anyone who loved us to look at us now would just hurt them, in the end. Y'know, I always sorta wanted to be an undead." Asha's laugh sounded a lot more tired, now.

She realized that she'd fucked up, had gone too dark, too graphic, but it was too late to take any of that back. The fact that it was what she truly believed didn't mean she was free of any responsibility to cushion the blow, to try and make the truth easier and less painful for everyone to accept. Asha never thought that all it'd take was a single mention of home to make her lose face. She'd have to be much more careful in the future.
a tribute for the dead and dying

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Time steals us all away one day, does it not? · Northwest Cliffs