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This was a shitty day, all things considered. Sure, he'd had some real bad days in the past - he could recall more than a few - but this really took the cake. Getting trapped on a fucking island after being kidnapped by terrorists. Meeting Nate and Ben didn't do much to make him feel better about it, mostly because neither of them were assigned a boat. He guessed that he appreciated their company, at the very least. Two people who weren't threatening that weren't going to kill him.

He tried to sleep when it wasn't his turn to watch. He was tired, sure - getting thrown into a life or death situation can do that - but he had a lot to think about. This meant he didn't sleep well at all, of course. Sure, he'd been fortunate to find not only Nate, but Nate's friend, of all people shortly thereafter.. but maybe anyone else they ran across wouldn't be so.. normal. So willing to not take advantage of this whole situation everyone was in.

Give it another day or two, he thought. Everyone but them is going to be going fucking crazy by then. Who knew - maybe Cochise's best were already busy putting on a good show for the sick fucks who watch this? He could only guess.

So he slept. Poorly. He dreamed that he was in middle school again - up until now the closest analogue to hell that he knew - and getting the shit beaten out of him by someone he didn't know. Someone big, dumb and fuckin' mean. Out of nowhere, the guy beating on him produced a hammer, raised it above his head.. the announcement came, waking him up.

Nine people, dead. No one he knew. Nine less people who might have killed him, he thought. Nine less people that he might have had to kill. He didn't have to guess anymore, at least.

He had nothing to say, but he wanted to fill the silence that hung in the air. He wanted to, but he just couldn't. He really had nothing to say. So he just sat there, waiting for nothing in particular.
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Forget About What I Said · Storage Closet