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Maraoone
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yes thomas why
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There were a few ways Olivia defined herself. She defined herself as the girl with all the answers in the classroom, the one who could always raise her hand, who could always figure out how to integrate this and calculate the torque for that. She defined herself as the girl who always had a deck of cards in her bag, one who could play a mean game of Go Fish or Uno, or Solitaire if no one else was in the mood for some fun. She defined herself as the girl with the watches, the one who never arrived late, the one who herself defined her days in seconds and minutes and hours.

And in the past hour, her life had lost all meaning.

She looked in her bag, and the first thing she noticed was how alien it felt. As if she was rummaging in the purse of some other girl. Her old comb, something she'd left abandoned at the bottom, was the first thing she saw, its pink color immediately attracting attention. She dug her hand in, and felt a lump form in her throat as she felt emptiness in the inner right pocket. Where her cards were. And she dug her hands in further to the bottom, among wallets and clothes in disarray, and did not feel the leather of her brown watch. The smooth glass of its face. Her fingers yearned for this familiarity, yet she came up empty. And then her heart dropped as she remembered that she'd set it by her desk the night before. She hadn't worn it.

There were other things missing, too. Her notepad. A pocket book of poems. Other parts of her torn and thrown away. And as she dug further, she felt something cold, metal, but not cylindrical like the hinges her watch hung off of. Just long. Sharp. She pulled it up, and discovered that the island thought it sufficient to replace all these parts of her with a lobotomy pick. A lobotomy pick in an asylum.

And Olivia, her heart had started beating fast, she started breathing fast, yeah, but no, everything would be OK because she had Hannah and Irene, she had these girls to fill the time and fill her mind and drown away her thoughts, smother them away, everything would be fine because she was just with a couple friends from high school, because she just left a few things, no, more than a few things in her rush to leave the house yesterday morning, and she had somehow gotten a screwdriver, not a lobotomy pick, yes, everything was alright, they were just on some unexpected detour from their science trip, some detour that takes them from never-before-seen beaches to the edges of bell towers to dusk-shadowed asylums to rooms of black and gray, yes everything would be fine

and all of a sudden they near a shape. An oblong shape, in a corner. Curled up. And they go closer, Olivia and Hannah and Irene, they near it, and all of a sudden it is a she, was a she, was an Abby Floyd.

And all of a sudden, Irene runs, and slams into Olivia, knocks her into the wall. And Olivia stays there, stays there and stares at Abby's corpse, at the shadows that Irene's dropped flashlight casts as it rolls into Abby's blood into what was once inside Abby who was once walking and talking and defined as such and now she's just defined as a number as a victim and and

all of a sudden, 'they' does not pertain to Olivia and Irene and Hannah, there is no they because it is just she. Hannah runs after Irene. Leaves Olivia. And Olivia is left with a corpse. Olivia is left with a corpse, and a lobotomy pick, and Irene's sweater, and her flashlight, and she is left with nothing else, no cards, no watches, no answers to any of this. She is left with no one, and she is no one.

She leans against the wall. Breathes, takes in all the air that she can, in, out, in, out, breathes as if she is breathing for two people, for someone who cannot breathe anymore, breathes as if she can revive them, but it is not enough, it never will be enough. And she stares. She stares at Abby. At what was once Abby. And this is no longer some detour, she can no longer avoid looking in bags and looking at cameras because she is looking at a body, she is looking at the commencement of this game. She is looking at the first corpse she'd seen since she went to her great-uncle's funeral, except his body was clean and peaceful and lying straight and his eyes were closed and he had a bit of a smile, and Abby, she is dirty, she is bloody, she is curled up on the floor, and she is not peaceful, she did not go in peace, and Olivia will not go in peace, she will be another Abby, she will be shot or stabbed or burned, she will not be her great-uncle.

But as scared as she is, as much as she breathes and hyperventilates and pushes against the wall, she cannot leave. She is paralyzed. Because despite all her fear, she fears more being alone. Being hunted alone. She fears this game, and wants to go back, go back to their slight detour, to they. And maybe she can salvage something from the fragments of the previous day. Maybe Hannah can bring Irene back, and maybe they can stay as a group, and they can talk, and they can forget this ever happened.

So she waits, and waits, waits not in seconds and minutes and hours, as they have abandoned her, but in breaths, in blinks. But as she waits, the curves, the outlines of this body, the shadows it casts on the wall, she looks at them, and she realizes she will never ever forget this for as long as she lives, be it seventy years or seventy hours or seventy minutes. She has stared too long, she has burned its image into her mind.

And then it occurs to her that Hannah and Irene might not come back. It occurs to her that they've actually left her behind. She hadn't moved a bit, not an inch. If Irene had really left them behind, if Hannah hadn't been able to catch up to her, then all she had to do was go back to where they were. The flashlight was pointed at her, illuminated her. She should've been impossible to miss. But maybe Hannah was still chasing Irene. And if that was so, then that meant that maybe Irene was worth more to her than Olivia was. In other words, maybe it meant that Olivia was expendable. That she could do fine on her own. She couldn't, but that didn't matter to Hannah. She didn't matter. She didn't know if it was cursing at Hannah that did it or staring at Irene weird or being too nervous. Or if they just didn't care for her. But they'd left her behind.

Olivia knows when she's not needed. When she's not wanted. She's just wasting time. So, she slowly gets up. Pushes herself off the wall. Picks up her bags. Leaves Irene's bloodstained flashlight. Closes her eyes, sidesteps around the pool of blood. Says a quick prayer for Abby. And she leaves the room.

((Olivia Fischer continues in a concrete cave))
Edited by Maraoone, Apr 11 2017, 11:29 AM.
V6 Characters:
G062 - Olivia Fischer prayed a thousand prayers in Ye Not [37/107]
Previous Threads: Sæglópur - Until all our yesterdays are lighted fools... - the way to dusty death - a concrete cave - I'd Say That I've Had Worse Days, but Then I'd Be Lying - Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying - Until Then, You Are Free - Cast in the Name of God
Memories: Sometimes when we reach for the stars...
Weapon: Lobotomy pick.

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