"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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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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"Can't tell..." Coleen said in a half-whisper, pulling her eyes up from the safe zone created by her knees when she pulled them up to her chest. A sunrise? Nothing she hadn't seen before. "Got my back pressed to it."

Bernadette and Brendan... that talk wasn't going very pleasantly. Alba's attempts to play it down and act as a peacekeeper were, by Coleen's assessment, less than adequate. In a different mood, she wondered, she may have considered it 'laughable', but that was back when she remembered how to laugh. Right now, her heart felt like she'd never laugh again for the rest of her life.

The uncomfortable thoughts returned of just how short a time that might actually be.

Her gaze shifted down to the bag and gun left right by her. They were Bernadette's, discarded when Bern had left her 'let's comfort Coleen' post in order to deal with Brendan. Why she had left such a dangerous-looking weapon behind when talking to a supposed killer was beyond her. Maybe Bernadette trusted Brendan. As if anybody could trust anybody anymore, not with friends killing each other. Four days ago, such things would've been unthinkable. Never in a hundred years could any of them take the life of another.

She cursed herself for being unable to find the joy in just how stupid that was, and she cursed herself for being unable to remember exactly what type of gun the assault-rifle-looking weapon was that lay before her.
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