"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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Yugikun
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i'll be your light, your match, your burning sun
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“Depends.”

He had stepped out into view at this point. Alex seemed willing to not cut him open with the machete he had, so he figured that it was only fair. Polite. A nicety, or something like that. The both of them seemed to be okay with talking with each other so it was probably for the best that they do it the proper way. Look at him in the eye when speaking or when he’s speaking, or else he’d get reprimanded by his parents. Still a good lesson, probably. One of the few good things his parents actually taught him. But anyway, Jeremy wasn’t quite sure what Alex meant by that, because no, Jeremy didn’t really understand it. He wasn’t a murderer - and ideally wouldn’t be - so he was yet to know what that feeling was like. Sympathy v.s empathy, except the moral opposite.

Still, even though Jeremy couldn’t say he felt whatever the equivalent of empathy was in this scenario, that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested. Just had to feed him a line. Pretend that he understood what understanding was in this scenario.

“On the person, I mean. Everybody’s different. Depending on who did it, we’d have a whole range of different reasons as to why he was killed.”

He had to admit that the machete was a little disconcerting, though. Just a little twinge on the back of his neck. On his throat.

The machete wasn’t where his eyes were focused, though.

“The corpse there was of Conrad. According to the announcements, he was killed by Isabel. Judging from what I could see…”

The twinge felt slightly larger. The machete was one thing. Seeing what he was seeing right now, he really didn't hope that Isabel found him alone in the middle of the night.

“I’m assuming that Isabel wanted him to suffer.”
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This World Belongs to the Mad · Solitary Confinement