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((Bridgette Sommefeld continued from Companion Rectangle))

They hadn’t chosen the best place to spend the night.

It was like someone threw a college party and left the mess to stew for decades. Broken glass littered the floor, doors were off their hinges, and someone had left a chair hanging in the wall. Bridgette hated being here, but she supposed it was better than sleeping outside. At least they had a roof over their head.

She didn’t get much rest that night. Her sleep was light and fitful, and she came to appreciate guard duty. It wasn’t enjoyable, but at least she felt productive - if she couldn’t sleep, she may as well stay up. She’d picked up a mostly-intact bottle during her first shift, figuring she’d need something to protect herself. It was a little gross, knowing it was covered in ancient saliva, but she had to suck it up. Anything was better than the toothbrush she’d gotten.

At one point she’d pulled the survival guide out of the bag - as vigilant as she’d like to be, it was still a little boring. It was a short little pamphlet, like the ones in doctors’ offices or hotel lobbies, but this one was detrimental to her survival. She spent hours pouring over it, partially out of boredom, partially out of interest. Mostly out of nervousness.

She was still reading it at breakfast, when the announcement came on. The sound of crackling speakers lifted a weight from Bridgette’s chest. She was lucky to hear it now. It meant she’d survived a day in Survival of the Fittest.

It meant she was still alive.

But then there were those who weren’t. Their names didn’t rattle her too much. Sure, they were tragic, but their deaths were good news, in a way. Ten people had died, but that meant ten less threats, ten less competitors, ten less peers to outlast before she went home.

Of course, some of them stung. She knew Scarlett and Conrad, but she wasn’t too close to either of them. She could handle their deaths. But then there was Joshua. The first face she’d seen on the island, the boy who supposedly had a plan - one that had fallen through. The last words he said to her echoed in her mind.

“We are not going to die. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Bridgette scoffed. He’d done a good job of that.

The room quieted as the announcement ended. The relief lingered, but there was an odd heaviness in her chest. She ignored it, because she had other things on her mind.

She had to deal with the killers.

Her suspicions of Isabel were correct, but Alvaro came completely out of left field. She’d written him off yesterday, designating him as a non-threat. But he’d pushed a kid off a cliff. Maybe he was a little more unstable than she’d thought. Goes to show how poor her judgement was.

Now there were six clear threats: Isabel Ramirez, Nancy Kyle, Kimiko Kao, Alvaro Vacanti, Alex Tarquin, and Jasmine Reed.

Isabel, Nancy, Kimiko, Alvaro, Alex, Jasmine.

Isabel, Nancy, Kimiko, Alvaro, Alex, Jasmine...

Bridgette muttered their names under her breath. She had to commit their names to memory, remember the killers so she could survive. She looked down at the survival guide, and got an idea. She instinctively reached for her pocket, but to her disappointment, remembered it was empty. They’d taken all her pencils.

She looked up when Danny spoke her name. He said they needed a plan. Bridgette nodded quietly. “Yeah, of course.” She said, glancing down at the pamphlet again. Another pause. “...We should go find pens.”

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