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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
There was nothing to see. Well, amen to that.

She'd seen enough of her friends die. She'd seen people she knew not as well, kids she had gone to school with and sat next to and known the names of but never really talked to die, or found their bodies later. Bradley? A funny face and funnier mouth, but it was that mouth that got him in trouble. It's what got the spear through him, the same spear that she now held in her hands. Arthur was somebody she had never even spoken to until the island brought them together.

Cameron, Coleen was discovered by not too long ago, and they began this crazy adventure into the world of music when she really just wanted to focus on her acting. Yet here was this girl who had this nutty idea of 'hey, let's step outside your comfort zone, try something new because I think you'll be good at it.' Cameron was one of her best friends.

But Georgia Lee? She'd known Georgia Lee probably longer than she'd known anybody else in Cochise. Anybody else in Kingman outside of her own family. Sometimes she'd hear things untoward about Georgia, about how she could be a little mean or a snide bitch, and not a single one of those thoughts would ever be entertained. Georgia Lee was her friend. A mentor and guide.

Her sister. The girl who helped her find, and cope with, her face and the person she was inside. That girl was gone.

One of the two of them would have to die - that's what the cold and logical part of Coleen's brain told her again and again, and it applied to each and every person here. By not being proactive, she was just prolonging the struggle she'd have to endure. Watch everybody around her pass one by one, or do the job yourself. Make it go faster. That's what the methodical part of Coleen's brain told her.

But why now? Why like this? All of last night was spent keeping Georgia Lee alive because...


Coleen howled out her frustrations on an overturned partition in front of her. Her hands slid away from the neck of the spear and closer to the blunt end of the shaft so she could lift it up and bring it down wildly across the side of the structure.

"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!" she shrieked, her slashing motions largely ineffectual and hardly using the weapon as intended. Her irritation only grew and she lurched forward, tucking her knees up against the fabric-covered board. Using both hands at the neck, she started punching the tip of the spear through the partition and made fruit of her labor little by little. "I tried! I fucking tried! Nothing works, fuck this, fuck all of this! ALL OF THIS!"

Where words failed her and no longer came out, her wailing heightened for a few more seconds. Finally, that too gave way, and the spear fell from her hands. Coleen collapsed over the board that she had thoroughly impaled and scuffed, fingers grasping at her hair like a panicked child seeking comfort. What breaths she could take marked themselves with a creaking whimper. Her grip found what it was looking for and she pulled the tie from her hair, working it between her fingers.

A difficult decision.
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