"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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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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Kizi was always awful at words of comfort, and at least that hadn't changed. She was still Kizi. Still completely guileless and witless, still in possession of the wisdom and acumen of a dead squid, still completely blind to social graces and proper protocols, yet not so blind that she couldn't see it. She looked down, at the artwork on the floor, perhaps in some vain hope that might inspire a burst of renewed confidence. Art was beautiful, inspirational, a reminder of the goodness in humanity.

And it had been torn and crumpled and vandalised by the terrorists. Just another reminder of how shit they were. Couldn't they at least have cleared the island of personal effects? Returned things home to their families? Allowed them to send a final video message back home? Any one of those simple gestures would have added some humanity to their conduct. Like offering a convicted prisoner a last meal. Still made the fate horrible, didn't relieve them of the burden of the acts of evil they were committing, but made things a bit more palatable.

Nope. Instead, the responsibility of softening the blow, of seeking silver linings, had been left to the kids themselves. And in Kizi's case, it was an act of niceness she wanted to do. Make things a little easier. Reduce the suffering a little bit. But she was unqualified.

She should have kept her mouth shut. She nodded as Jennifer brought up technology. Far more positive. Far more believable. A far more productive line of belief.

But then the bell rung, and Kizi immediately found herself having the wrong idea. She knew it was the wrong idea. Bart's caution was right. She looked down. Bit her lip. Waited a second before speaking. "I think we should." She decided not to elaborate her reasons why. For her sake and for their sake. They were probably grounded in some unspoken pessimism, some defeatist melancholy, that justified even the most illogical of risks. Best not to engage in that.
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Kiziah Saraki
Bradley Floyd
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Little Pig · Art Therapy