"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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MurderWeasel
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Somehow we drifted off too far...
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The boy was talking to the air. Perhaps descending into madness. Or, maybe just questioning the reality before him, maybe wondering who had killed these people, wondering whether they could really be dead. His statements were ambiguous. Isaiah found himself simply staring. Not a clue what to do. And then the guy was talking to him. His statements sounded... off somehow. Like he wasn't sure what to do either. Just the two of them, two kids dealing with something they never should have been forced to.

Why?

Didn't matter. There had to be a purpose. And Isaiah's own purpose on the beach soon became clear, as the other boy asked for help digging a grave. It was notable that he spoke of burial in the singular. Like he was just going to leave the fat guy to rot. So, he had probably cared about this blond guy. They'd probably been friends. Well, that was fine. They'd bury him first. Then, if the guy wanted to leave, that was his prerogative. Isaiah would dig the other grave alone. How challenging could it be? The sand was loose. He knew he couldn't be burying every body on this island, of course, but here doing so would help someone. That made it worthwhile.

"Yeah," he said, dropping his pack to the sand. "I think it's a very good idea."

Isaiah walked closer to the body. He was vaguely interested in the fact that he could not detect any odor from it. Either the salty sea air was overpowering it, or this murder hadn't happened long ago. For just a second, he considered dropping everything, grabbing his bar and tearing off after any footprints he could find, but that would not be productive, would not be a good action. So, instead, he began to shovel the sand, cupping his hands. The grains quickly built up under his fingernails, well-trimmed though they were. It was annoying, but not enough to slow him down.

Of course, his progress wasn't particularly quick. Lacking experience with sand, he was unable to keep large amounts from spilling back into his slowly-developing hole. This was not going to be a fine place of interment. He wished he could do better. They deserved it. But wishes wouldn't change reality, and he had to make do.
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Milk of Human Kindness · The Beach: North