"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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Violent-Medic
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Clarice didn’t quite wake up when Keith slammed the door. Enough to jerk her head slightly up, to open her eyes briefly, but not to really register or remember what was happening before she nodded off again.

She didn’t wake up until the next morning. Even then, the announcements only woke her up briefly. Not a lot of names that were important anymore. The killers and the dead, same as every other day. She heard Jeremy’s name on there. Was that everyone that she’d met the first day, apart from herself and Ty? Had there been others?

...Ty. Right, Ty.

Clarice looked around her. Somehow, her own bag remained undisturbed. But not only was Ty still gone, but Keith had left as well. It only now properly hit her that it was the next morning.

“...Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath.

Where’d they gone? Had they just left her on purpose, or had they meant to come back? Both were worrying. But if she sat here wondering, she’d never find them. Or Scout. Or anyone.

Getting to her feet was a struggle. Picking up her bag was a struggle. This whole fucking island was just a pointless struggle from beginning to end, and she didn’t know how much longer she could just… drift like this.

The alternative wasn’t good, though. Better to… to… whatever she was doing.

((Clarice Halwood continued elsewhere.))
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