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The tone of their voices told Wayne that it was best to turn back.

But there was nothing that waited for him back there that was better than what awaited him ahead.

He was running. Blocking off area after area of the island with tainted memories until nothing remained.

So it didn't matter much if he recognized Ty and Clarice. It didn't matter that he didn't recognize the other girl. It didn't matter that although he couldn't make out the words that they said, he could hear frustration and anger carried over the sound of the waves below. It didn't matter that Ty and Clarice were bigger than him, stronger than him, didn't matter that he carried extra packs so that his guilt was in full display. Look at the bags. Look at the knife on his hip. Look at the blood that should have been on his hands.

Those things didn't matter because he forced them not to. He just had to move, one foot in front of the other, over and over again.

Even as he got closer, he just kept moving at the same steady pace, his face like a mask, his hands hooked into his pockets. No eye contact. No acknowledgement.
The Present

The Past
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In A World Of Shit · The Connecting Bridge