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The exhaustion had set in again.

((Alvaro Vacanti continued from you know what not even going to bother copy-pasting this anymore))

It wasn’t as bad as it was earlier, though. He could… breathe. Even with the extra weight on him this time around he could still breathe. In, step, out, step. In, step, out, step. The extra weight was another bag. Barry’s. Or rather the bag that used to be Barry’s. Because Barry was dead. As much as Alvaro wanted to deny it and hide from it and stand in the corner he couldn’t. Barry was dead. He killed Barry. He hated it and he honestly wished that he could take it back and apologize but he knew that he couldn’t say he didn’t do it because he did do it and trying to do so would mean that he’d stay on that forever. No. He had to move. Do… something. Run. From Jonathan. He hadn’t seen Jonathan since he went down the stairs but he knew that he probably followed him and he didn’t want to take any chances.

He breathed. Took another step forward. No. He couldn’t. He was… he was here now. As much as he didn’t want to be on this island, as much as he didn’t want to be in this game, he couldn’t just stand still. He didn’t want to die. He knew that, so he wasn’t going to stand still and let the people like Min-Jae and Michael and Isaac find him.

But he stopped. Looked around. He was at a dead end. A hallway. Three doors on each side. He looked behind him. Nobody. He couldn’t go back, though. Jonathan might still be there, and who knew what he wanted to do? No, he had to go through one of the doors. Hide. He could do that. Stay silent until the coast was clear. He nodded. It was a plan. He didn’t know whether it was the best plan or whether it’d work but he knew he could at least try, so he walked up to the furthest door on the right, and opened it.

Inside was Abby, curled up in a corner, blood covering her arms.



No no no no no no no.

He stepped back. Again. And again. No. He wasn’t looking at this. Abby wasn’t dead. There couldn’t be other people dead. There couldn’t be… there couldn’t be other people killing already, right? No. There couldn’t. It was only him, which meant that…

Oh god.

He stepped back. His breathing was going faster. No. It was Abby. She was friendly. She was nice. She was brave. She couldn’t have killed herself. She just couldn’t.

But if she didn’t, then that meant that there were…

That there were other people like him out there.

No. No. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be on this island. He didn’t want to be playing this game. He took another step back. He was against a wall. Again. No. No. Not again. Anything but again.

His body had slid down the wall, hands on his face covering anything but his eyes.

There was nothing around him but his thoughts. The air against him went unnoticed.

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