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"That’s not a prediction, that’s a spoiler.”
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Nietzsche huh?

The comment stayed with Scout. Lingered in the pit of her belly long after Noah left. She knew very little of Nietzsche - you stare into the darkness and the darkness stares back? - but the comment made her drop her guard, well, drop it enough the joke to hit her like a ton of bricks. Scout did not 'get' the joke right away. It took her a moment before she started cackling like a damn witch. Christ. Why did she feel guilty for laughing? There were no damn rules on this island. On Killswitch Island. Whatever. She laughed, and screw anyone else who thought less of her for it.

She was about to follow Noah. About to. Then she changed her mind. Noah had his own group of friends. Scout did not want to become clingy, a distraction, a nuisance. That was the last thing she wanted. She hoped he would not get himself killed, hope. Scout did not believe in luck, only good odds.

Scout waited for the rain to dissipate before making any moves. She only had the one change of clothes, so she had to be careful. She did not want to die from hypothermia or something, as silly as the notion was. She needed to stay alive. Not do anything stupid.

There was no plans to stay in the cabin for another day. She only saw two people during her one and a half days in the lodge, and while the idea of just hanging out in there and waiting things out occurred to her, she knew that was the coward's way out. Besides, Clarice was out there somewhere. Clarice was still alive. Scout wasn't going to hide. No way in hell.

The windows were still fogged, and quite frankly what was the point in clearing them? So with her dufflebag slung over her shoulder, Scout walked to the front door, shoved the chair away from the door and threw it open. It swung gracelessly, slamming against the outside wall with a loud thunk. Under normal circumstances, such a move would be considered, in her words, 'stupid', but she genuinely thought she was alone.

She was wrong. There were two figures, about a dozen paces from the cabin. They were making their way over.

Scout sneered to herself. At least the rain died down. Small wonders.
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