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Grim Wolf
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The Very Best
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(Tara Behzad continued from St. Patrick's Purgatory)

Another day spent running.

No, that wasn't true, was it? She was lying to herself. Not a day spent running. A few hours spent running, as her arm throbbed with the pain she'd scorched into her flesh, as her legs ached and her head swam and her parched throat scraped and scratched so her breathing came to her in a rasp. It took her awhile to notice how much she'd slowed. To realize she'd stopped running, and that she'd slowed to a crawling shuffle, barely able to keep her feet.

She had to stop running. She had to stop moving. She curled up into a ball beneath a rocky overhang, and slept.

She awoke in the deep of the night, her stomach growling and panging, her breath whistling in her throat. She grabbed another bottle, chugged it in the black of the night. She broke off just a piece of the ration bar, ate it slowly because she'd pushed herself just as far as she could, because her head was swimming and she didn't think she could stand if she didn't eat.

Out of control. It was all out of control. Of course she'd go down swinging. They'd all go down swinging, dangling from the hangman's rope.

She rose to her feet and started moving again, wandering beneath the black sky. But even now, she couldn't run. It was all she could do to walk.

She walked along the beach as sunlight glazed the distant horizon. She heard the Announcements buzz to life, heard the names and closed her eyes. Alone, she sank onto the rocky coastline and shook her head. So many more lost. So many more dead. The game hadn't changed. They hadn't been beaten. All the defeats they'd suffered, but they still had control.

Not like her. She couldn't even run anymore. How could she even think of dying happy?

She found a small, hand-sized rock with a pointed tip, and tightened her fingers around it. She snapped it into her ribs, hissing at the pain. Then again, twice more. Control. Control. Control. If you cannot control yourself, you will control nothing else.

She rose to her feet and stumbled on, her ribs aching, her burnt arm throbbing. She needed to keep moving. She couldn't stop.

She moved onto the docks, and froze as a shadow moved in front of her. She watched nervously, her hands fumbling back for the flashbangs in her bag.

Then the man fell.

"You okay?" Tara called, without thinking.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

V5 Players

V4 Players
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In This Starless Night · Docks