"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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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
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Roland kept to himself for another minute, still overcome with grief. He could hear people talking on the beach, getting closer to him, but he didn't care. He just wanted a little more time to himself. But soon he heard footsteps and a bag dropping not five feet away, followed by the voice of his good friend Sarah.

"Roland, are you okay?" she asked.

He finally revealed his face, looking up at Sarah. His eyes were still red from crying. "No, I'm not okay, Sarah. None of us are. We're all dead." He planted his hands in the sand and pushed himself up, then walked to his tennis racket and pulled it out of the sand.

"I knew this would happen. He always does it in the summer. It's the same MO every time and yet no one catches on. No one!"

His mind swimmed with visions of how he could have prevented this from happening, or at least saved a few students. He could have warned Lily and his friends from going. But they probably wouldn't have believed him. He could have slashed the tires on the bus, but if they didn't select him he would be expelled. The terrorists could have even killed him, and gone on with the plan anyway, but then they'd expose themselves and maybe some people would get away.

Fuck it. He couldn't have done any of that. The best he ever did was spreading pamphlets that no one read. Making a real difference was an opportunity that had been stolen from him forever.

"SARAH! DUTCHY!"

Roland quickly turned around and saw that gay Australian guy he saw hanging out with Sarah and Dutchy sometimes. Bernard?

"Hey man," he said. "Sorry about all this. I wish I could do something about it, but..." He sighed and shrugged.

He was burned out now, having spent his emotions minutes ago. Now he felt himself sweat, and wiped his face with his other sleeve. Then he sighed and just took his hoodie off. He wore a simple blue t-shirt underneath it, with had a few dark patches on it already. "I don't know anymore," he finished, looking at the friends he was lucky enough to see here. It was great that they were unharmed, but what about the others? What were they doing now?

He turned to face the heart of the island, away from the ocean. "We should get moving soon," he said. "It's not safe here. Too much open space."
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
WickedIcon: this is the best dollar i've spent in several years

chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

Turning Pages: Read some books along with me, why don't you?

V4:
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V5:
Arthur Wells: The Artist ... ... ... ... ?
Rose Matheson: The Sprinter ... ?
Ilya Volkov: The Wrestler ... ... ... ... !
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False Awakening · The Beach: East