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D--> I need a towel
[ *  *  *  * ]
Oh god my stomach why does it hurt so bad ohhhhh. What the hell is this?

[B127]- START!

Kyle opened his eyes and gritted his teeth against pain which ran through his body. His stomach was screaming in pain. He could feel bile rising in his throat. Had he eaten something bad? He couldn't remember. Oh.... He curled up and bit his lip as his stomach shot a warning message to him. Suddenly, the blank spots in his memory filled in. The Auditorium. That voice, the voice he had listened to with mild elation. Survival Of The Fittest. That show.... He hadn't been big on the merchandise, but the show had been one he liked to turn on while he was doing homework. He had, at the time, thought that Danya's voice sounded so awesomely sinister. The irony twisted his stomach again. The pain was similar to the time he had had a Dentist's appointment for a tooth drilling. He had taken his medicine before, and the anesthetic had reacted with his medicine. That time he had....

The bile rose in his throat again as Kyle rolled over quickly. He pulled his head up and away from the ground as his stomach roiled and pushed out its contents. He gagged twice more, not pushing anything out with the heaves. He dropped to the side and panted before another realization came to light. His glasses. Where the fuck were his glasses? He looked around, his vision incredibly blurry. He patted himself down and felt something in his pocket. Relief flooded his body as he pulled out his glasses and put them on.

"Not cracked. Good," he muttered to himself. He looked around himself again and spotted the daypack. He crawled over to it, not trusting his legs to hold him up, and began rummaging through it.

"FUCK!" he exclaimed, pulling his hand out rapidly. He was bleeding heavily out of a long, but shallow gash. Cursing to himself, for both his exclamation and his sliced hand, he dumped the contents of his daypack out. A medkit, foodstuffs, other general items, and the knife. It was short and curved, a style Kyle hadn't had much dealing with. He did recognize it as a Gurka knife, used by Turkish Police Forces. He briefly wondered if Danya and his organization were Middle Eastern in origin.

Kyle opened the medkit and pulled out the bandages. He carefully poured a small amount of water over his hand before placing a gauze pad on the gash and wrapping it with the bandages. It was crude, but it would work. He went ahead and wrapped his other hand too. He would probably use his fists as much as his knife in this game, so protecting them was important. It struck him then. He was already thinking of his classmates as... nothing. Not his friends. Hayley... she would live. Until the very end, if it had to be that way. But everyone else... they were already non-entities to him. It was a chilling prospect and, if he had more time to consider it, probably said a lot about him. It shook him, knocked him uncertain. It was never a good place to be, uncertain in yourself.

Carefully, Kyle pulled himself to his feet. His knees wobbled slightly, but not enough to knock him down. Still, he sat down again quickly, making the excuse to himself that he needed to repack his stuff. His duffle was sitting next to him, passing unnoticed at the time. Inside, he found his work-out clothing, brought because he planned to work out occasionally. He also found a change of clothes. What he failed to find was his pills. This was bad. Very bad.

"Shit. I'm going to be flipping the fuck out in a couple hours...," he muttered to himself.
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