"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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Viewing Single Post From: Haven't You Got Eyes in Your Head?
MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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"So, I think we could make tons of money!"

"... How?"

"Duh, don't be dense! Like, Sheila keeps making baby rabbits, and we can keep selling them away!"

"That's not really going to work out. There's a lot of stuff you haven't worked out, like cost and time, not to mention space, and the fact that mom would never let us do this, Bean. It's way too compl-"

"Things are only complicated because you keep making them that way, 'Ivan the Terrible'. We can go somewhere, we can make it big! We could both be rich, and then you could get a massive tennis facility and you can take care of that, while I take care of the pet business! It's so simple!"


---

Just... why can't it be simple?

Not only did their lives have to be completely destroyed, but the game being played with the children was far crueler than anybody alive could ever be ready for, or fully comprehend. They couldn't just be trucked off somewhere, all tied up and sat in a room while the terrorists made their demands to the government. Then, once the government inevitably refused to cooperate, the children would all be slain, and their bodies would either be dumped back on a barge set for home... but even that was in a gracious world, where the more likely alternative would see them rot on the island, until some misguided explorer finds all of their bones.

Instead, they were subject to the ultimate cruelty of pitting friend against friend, and possibly even family against family. The rules, the final ultimatums seemed so simple: either you play the game and you kill, or you are killed, whether it be by a classmate, the explosive belt strapped around their necks, or possibly their own hand. But the true cruelty lay within deception, for the game was far from simple. If it was truly simple, then there would be students who killed to survive, those who resigned to their fate and died. Ivan still did not know which side of the line, blurred into an unclear ocean of ink, he stood on. Even the fact that he could only claim knowledge of some of the game's elements just thrust him further into the absurdity of it all... he would never be able to understand.

"I'm sorry...Ivan...I'm sorry about asking...and...I'm sorry about your arm...I'm so sorry..."

Ivan's body jerked when he heard Tabi's voice. The words were a slurry mess and he failed to pick them up, mixed into his own chokes and sniffs. Her voice was kind, surprisingly doting if still scared, but Ivan tucked up a bit tighter, as if curling up and burying his head an extra inch would allow her to withdraw from Tabi. Not only was every terrible, terrible action his fault, she had heard his crying; she heard his weakness, and was now taking pity on him. It was humiliating, crippling, and generally just embarassing that her 'hero' (disregarding the laughably stupid logic behind that decision) was now breaking down as melodramatically as Tabi had the day before.

Ivan pulled his face out of his folded arms and inhaled as deeply as his lungs could allow. Frigid morning air met his lungs and he coughed one more time. He had hoped it came out as a relatively manly clearing of the throat, but with his nerves shaking in the way they were, it came out more as a childish, 'I'm drowning and I'm spitting up water' cough. Before Tabi showed up to see him in the sorry state he was in (and possibly attack him, but that was an afterthought... no doubt caused by constant paranoia from this damned island), Ivan pressed his left palm against the ground to try and right himself. The effort was a slow and strenuous one, finding additional support only from the tree that he had been nestled against, all the while his knees creaked in protest.

As Ivan began to walk out of the small thicket to meet Tabi, some discomfort began to well up in his skull, until a throbbing pain began to poke against his head like a knife. Without his body heat being preserved by his curled up position, he was finally able to feel the early-morning chill.

The coldest hour is always the one before the dawn...

His arm hurt, his head hurt, and his pride was far more bruised than each, but Ivan came stepping out of the small ridge of foliage, coming face-to-face with Tabi. With as sullen as he now was, he couldn't even bother to jump, even if that had been anybody... it could have even been Keith and he probably wouldn't have reacted too much, because the pain warranted just that much more attention. Ivan lowered his head with this astounding combination of shame and discomfort, being unable to look Tabi in the face. He could notice, however, a pretty basic detail that somewhat annoyed him.

She bathed... in the river... with all of her clothes on? Uuugh... the prudity is fine... ow, arm... but unless she has a change of clothes, she's just going to freeze to death.

Ivan attempted to raise his eyes a little, but the hand that he was using as an impromptu forehead cozy and a visor prevented any eye contact. Still, he looked to her the best he could, and drew his breath for a murmured sentence.

"So... are you ready to go?"
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