"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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The shot rang. The body dropped.

And everything came back.

That was Irene. A girl. A friend. They used to play soccer together. They used to play chess together. She went to his cafe. They talked, occasionally. They had fun. She was a friend. Maybe not one that thinking about it he talked to much or ranked highly but she was still a friend. He still liked her.

But she was dead now.

She had fell.

And he did that.

His fault.

It was like Barry. Like Jasper. All over again.

Number three.

Barry, Jasper, Irene.

Everyone he hurt. Everyone he killed.

And this time he couldnít.

This time he couldnít say anything. Irene was gone now. Dead. It was his fault.

And there was nothing he could say.

The girl - Serena - was in front of him. She was someone he didnít know. She wasnít someone he talked to much. She was holding her gun. Screaming something. Alvaro couldnít hear. He couldnít listen. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do. He just wanted to do something and be away from this island but he didnít know couldnít think couldnít say anything he just had to

just had to

He didnít know.

And that was when the tackle hit, taking the breath from his lungs as the girl jumped on top of his body.
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