"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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Viewing Single Post From: By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you
RedAstaire
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grim wolf wannabe
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Harold, who was not Nancy, as Clarice stated, might have not attacked him yet. But, he had the potential to do so. A bigger potential than Nancy would have. Harry could wrestle. Conrad could not. Harry attacks him and Conrad's dead.

"Clarice, that's not what I've said!"

He exclaimed that statement with an angry voice. A lie, misunderstanding. Now Harold would distrust him even more.

"I do not plan to outlast my classmates!"

Conrad knew that he could not. Would not kill anybody. Even with the sword in his hand and Harry or Clarice as a target - he would never bring himself to kill either of them. He was a human. He had morals. He was rational.

That's why he should stop being angry at his girlfriend for accusing him of being a coldhearted person. She was hurt herself. She was too trusting. Conrad could handle this.

But then the wrestler talked. Something about the way it was brought to him felt wrong. It was too optimistic, too utopian. Too much of a Clarice illusion.

Harold, coming closer. Step, step, step. Closer.

Conrad could not move. He was shaking, he knew that Harry could use some wrestling techniques to quickly knock him out. Harold was coming closer, until he could reach Conrad. Until he could grab him. Attack him. Harold was so big.

His life is in danger. But maybe it wasn't his life anymore. The terrorists basically owned the life of Conrad by having an explosive collar around his neck. And they could detonate it any time.

And then he thrust the sword forward, trying to push him away. With force.
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By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you · Solitary Confinement