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Brackie
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i love him, i love him, i love him, i love him
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Maxim had made the decision he was going to fight his way off the island on the morning of Day 8.

It was during a differing state of mind, something he experienced once he realized once again how alone he was. He had been alone before, of course, but that was when this whole thing had started. And naturally, he'd found people once again. And even more naturally, he'd lost them, when Brendan ran after the one who tried to shoot them. Brendan, who had chosen to run rather than face the truth Maxim had been working up to explaining, the truth he'd accepted days beforehand when Junko was shot by another now dead boy, when he'd said his goodbyes to his dad and to his doctor and to the boy who ruined his life who once loved him. There was just no point in putting up that facade anymore.

And what was the facade for in the first place? That he had time and patience for a grade of people who had nothing of the sort for him. That he would be able to walk out of this thing grasping onto the little remainder of friends that he had, a remainder that was barebones enough as it was before this whole thing began. It wasn't a case of everyone dying trying to find the reason this whole thing had to happen in the first place. It was a case of Them, vs. a case of Maxim, and Maxim deserved it more than them. He had gone through hell at that school no matter how nice he was. He was ostracized not only for his interests but for his sexuality as well. He'd done nothing wrong. Ever. Yet bad things still happened to him, because that was how the world worked. People pretended to be friends with him until it was just plain inconvenient. The world had it out for him.

Of course, he had to believe that, no matter how untrue it was. It was better than accepting responsibility for his own actions, for his forcing himself on his friend, for treating people like pieces on a chess board that was moving too fast around him, and for just being a flat-out asshole. If he did that, he'd have to face the truth, that he was responsible for most of anything he faced and he couldn't just blame a cruel world who had it out for him.

But if he'd done that, then he probably wouldn't have taken up his bow and shot an arrow into the shoulder of Vanessa Stone.

He wouldn't have made the decision to play his way off the island, and he might have gotten some true self-reflection in.

Instead, here he was.

Maxim wasn't sure where the arrow was meant to hit, but either way it knocked Vanessa down in a single strike. For a moment, he'd thought maybe she'd been killed, ludicrous as that might have been, but in the following few she started scrambling away. If she'd gathered momentum Maxim might have been worried, but it was nothing but a weak pathetic crawl. Of course, that still meant he needed to act fast before she found help, and that would put his own game in peril.

The bag was filled to the brim with food, water, and arrows. But Maxim didn't know how long it would take to fumble another one in, given it took so long the first time. If only she was still, and not still able to move away. He needed time for that that he didn't have.

As he took the bow down, he felt a weight of metal and wood move along his side. Oh. Of course. Why not? It would be messy, and it was a step up from what Maxim originally wanted to do in terms of how he played this, but just like his doctor once said, unfamiliar situations were how he would learn to grow.

Placing the bow on the ground, Maxim pulled the hammer from his waistline into his hands and started walking towards the prone Vanessa.
I can't sing but I wrote you a song

Wrong notes but the melody's so clear

When I'm lost, I'm still close to gold

cause I found my treasure in you
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This Nearly Was Mine · The Library