"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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VoltTurtle
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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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"Not if my friend is a fucking murderer."

The hurt in Penelope's voice was plainly audible. Her voice cracked and wavered as she tried to hold back her tears and her anger. "Astrid..."

"None of what you just said justifies killing. None of it." Penelope sniffled, and nervously brushed her hair back out of her face. "It doesn't matter if surviving means you have to kill. It's better to die with your humanity and morality intact than live the rest of your life with blood on your hands."

Tears rolled down Penelope's cheeks. "Killing someone who killed other people doesn't justify it. Even if they've killed that doesn't give you a license to kill them too. Neither does 'just' killing one person." Her voice trembled. "It's all just as wrong. You aren't better than someone else that's killed multiple people. Taking a life is equally wrong, and you can't go back from it. Once you take away someone's ability to think and feel and hope and dream forever, you're a murderer. Killing more may give you a higher body count, but it's still the same. You've sinned, and you're no better than them. You'll all have the same blood on your hands."

Penelope wiped away some of the tears. "And it's not just the blood of whoever you killed. If you walk out of here alive while everyone else died, you have all of our blood on your hands. Your friends' blood, my friends' blood. My blood. All of us dying just..." She took a deep breath to calm herself. "...Just so you could have a few more years of life to yourself. And not even good years either. I mean... how many of the other winners are even still around? And of the few that are, are they happy? Of course not. They have massive psychological baggage. Because all of their friends died. Because they watched people die. Because they directly made the light leave someone else's eyes. Nobody can just live with that."

Penelope inhaled sharply, keeping herself from sobbing. "If you do this... if you do this you'll give them... you'll give them exactly what they want. So it's up to you. You can be the better person and accept the fact that you're going to die, like we all should have in the first place like in any other, normal terrorist attack. Or you can do what they want you to do and you'll never truly live another day in your life ever again."

Penelope sniffled again. "If... if you do what you're planning on doing... you may walk out of here, still ambulatory, still respirating, still metabolizing... But you won't be alive. Part of you will have died here, with everyone else, and you'll never get it back."
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