"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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Is in some state of existence
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((Amanda Tan continued from The World Without Us))

It was deadly silent apart from the almost rythmic sound of her sneakers on wood.

Emma and Jaime couldn't have still been in the pub, since it was a danger zone yesterday, so she'd looked about a few places nearby, but there was no sign of them.

She had hoped they'd be here.

Sure it wasn't exactly close to the pub, but she'd decided it was worth a shot anyway, though it was starting to look like she guessed wrong.

Not that she was completely alone here.

Michael was here, his ridiculous hair ensuring that there was no way it could be anybody else. Not to be rude to the dead or anything.

But she was less worried about finding him than she thought she'd be. She was getting less sensitive about dead people. Weird how easily people adapt. Three days ago she was freaking out at Tessa, yesterday she killed someone and today, she's just carrying them out of caves and walking past them as if it was one hundred percent normal.

Maybe it was just how much she had on her mind. She was trying now, or at least trying harder than she was those first few days on the island. But then why did it feel like all she had done was aimless wandering since the morning.

She'd already played out the conversation a hundred times in her mind. How she would apologise, exactly how she was going to tell them that she fucked up. The thoughts ended there, though, because she didn't know what she wanted to do next. Or if they'd even accept her apology in the first place. But above all else she needed to find them to do it.

So she shouldn't have stopped here. She should carry on.

But she stopped anyway, pausing on the edge of one of those weird concrete things that she suddenly couldn't remember the name of. She wasn't even sure why she was doing this anymore. Obligation? Because it was the right thing to do?

Or was it just because she wanted to clean up her messes. To take back her bad decisions where she could. As if she could somehow defy casuality and make sure that everything was no longer her fault because she'd owned up and apologised for it.

But wasn't it too late for that? She'd made mistakes she couldn't take back.

And somewhere she was almost certain that she would shoot someone again. She'd taken their gun after all. She'd dragged her own gun around everywhere despte how much of a stupid idea it had been. Did she-

No. Thoughts were stopping there. Go straight to jail. Do not pass go.

She swept her hair back out her eyes. Maybe she was better off moving off again.
"I have the heart of a young boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk" -- Stephen King

Those no longer with us

It's the Grand Map of Doom! v6
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