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He was exhausted.

((Jeremy Frasier, continued from Noland the Liar))

Breathing. Panting. Moving. Jeremy Frasier took his steps through the hallway he had found himself in. His chest hurt, his legs were screaming at him to stop, but he kept on moving forward. Through the hallway, then hopefully up the stairs if they happened to be here. Get up to the roof, and then wait. Yeah. That was the plan. Hopefully he’d be the first to get there. There was this whole thing he noticed with himself back then when he tended to be the first to get to class whenever the bell rang, so admittedly he’d want to keep that whole thing going as long as he could. Jeremy would still be the fastest kid in the school, right now as well as back then.


Back then.

Been a bit since he had thought about that.

He slowed. Kept trying to move forward. He had mentioned the radio tower, on his note. That’s where him and Hazel and Jordan were supposed to meet up. Well, ideally at least. He was going to avoi dthem a little. Check out the asylum again first. No real way to tell what they thought of him randomly ditching them, but in the case that they somehow were okay with it he had to get up there. His breath was short at this point from moving around the island, and his chest and legs hurt and he seriously wasn’t sure how much longer he could go, but he’d felt this before so he was fine and as soon as he got there he’d-

He tried to breathe in.

He couldn’t.


He couldn’t.

Oh god he couldn’t breathe and oh god it hurt and oh god he couldn’t move he had to stop he had to breathe he had to fucking rest for a bit but he had to move and he had to go forward and he had to get up to the rooftop but he couldn’t he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t move and

There was a door in front of him. A room. He’d be safe there.

He stepped forward, put his hand out. Knob. Open. Move. Close. He was inside now. He looked around.

Nobody here.

That was good.

His body moved forward. Stumbled. Stopped. He leaned forward. Clutched his knees.

He was alone.

He could breathe.

There was a whole world out there, one of people he knew fighting and killing until only one was left. His friends were out there. They could be fighting right now. They could be dying right now, before he ever got a chance to find them. He knew that. He knew what he had to do. He had to find them, as soon as possible.

But he could forget about that, for a moment.

He was exhausted. He couldn't move. He needed to breathe.

That's what mattered right now.
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