"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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Primrosette
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((Brendan Harte continued from The Ones You Trust))

Brendan wasn't sure what to do anymore.

The other day he and Alba had been unsucessful in trying to find Ty and they spent hours on trying to be hopeful in finding him. But they finally gave up on that and then they both made their way over to the bridge as it was getting darker outside. They had managed to meet up with Jon and they made a plan to stay somewhere else for the night as the bridge would have been too open for them to get attacked by anyone who came across them. They made their way over to the asylum and they each got a room in the wards to rest in for the rest of the night.

Brendan wasn't able to sleep at all. All he could see when he closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep; were Jerry, Bernadette and Jaime's dead bodies and he never wanted those images in his mind again. He had been laying on his rusty bed for hours on end, staring up at the ceiling. Not really thinking about anything. He couldn't really concentrate on as he was really exhausted and hungry.

The announcements blared into life about two minutes ago. Brendan heard his name again on there. He didn't need the reminder that he was a fuck-up but he couldn't say that to the terrorists' faces. There had been more killings. Three by the same guy. The thing was, was that Brendan felt like he was giving up on caring. They were all going to die in the end. Even the person who 'wins'. They were not going to be the same person anymore. They were going to be dead on the inside. What was the point of this?

Brendan sighed softly. He shouldn't be like this. He had to continue to be positive for Alba and Jon. Just for a bit longer. He had to continue to put on a front. But he hated pretending. Everything was going to go to hell soon. He was having a gut feeling. A very bad feeling.

Brendan slowly but surely sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the side. He let out a yawn of tiredness. His stomach was grumbling. He had to eat something. He leaned over and his picked up his bag from the floor. He unzipped the bag and he froze as he stared into it. He still had Jon's revolver in there. He should remember to hand it back to him after he had finished off his bar that was now in his hand.

As he took a bite out of the bar, he wondered if the other two were going to be awake and leaving their rooms soon.
Their Time Is gone
 

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