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She hadnít slept.

((Jasmine King, continued from Survival Strategy))

It was too much of a risk. Anyone could find her if she did it. And if certain people found her when she was sleeping, who knew what they would do to her? No. It was smartest to stay awake. She had the chance to find more people that way. She had a better chance of staying safe that way. She knew that it would tire her, yes, but she knew that she could deal with that. There was a book she had read, once. It told her that chocolate or any sort of caffeine had the ability to wear off the effects of tiredness. She knew that she couldnít find any of that here, but she remembered another time when she hadnít. She had woken up late by accident during a camp and had missed breakfast, and she had cursed herself for that, but she had been able to ignore that. There wasnít any caffeine, but there was water. She splashed it over, and all the tiredness had gone away.

And that was what she did, just earlier. There was water in her bottle, and she spared herself the slight chance. She had put her fingers in, and smeared them on her eyelids, slightly.

And all the tiredness had gone away. She felt as fresh as she could be.

And now she was walking, around the asylum. Exploring. Searching. It was still her goal to find other people, and it was still her goal to find a group. She knew itíd help her. She knew that it would allow her to stay alive, for just that while longer. She knew that there was someone out there who would help her. Ben, Jordan. Kizi. They were out there. They hadnít been mentioned on the announcements. They were still alive. She could find them. Maybe not those people in particular, but there were others she knew. Others who she could talk to. Others who she could convince. She could do that. She could talk. She could get people to do what they wanted her to do.

But she hadnít.

She knew she hadnít been able to. At least so far. At the moment that she walked into the room with all the chairs, she couldnít name a single good thing that she had been able to do for herself. She let the girl in the dark room walk away. She walked away from Maxim when she could have convinced him if she had tried harder. She made Toby angry at her. She ran from Toby, just like she had ran from the two people on top of the storehouse. They were all mistakes. They were all ones that she had made.

...She knew, somewhere, that she couldnít have slept. Even if she had wanted to. There were failures. They were adding up. They were weighing on her. She would have thought about them all night and she would have been the same as she was right now.

And there was something else. There was a corpse. In the storehouse. Reaís. It was peaceful. It was happy.

It had a gash straight through her middle.

She looked down. At the ground. She breathed, through her mouth.

She just had to find someone. Anyone, at this point, who would agree to help her.

And then everything could actually be okay.
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Dreams and Reality · Group Therapy