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Hallucinojelly
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Hilary Strand continued from Rest and Relaxation))

----

Over the speakers: slow, deliberate clapping.

----

That sound.

That voice.

Those names.

Ever since she heard them, they'd stuck to her; their hooks attaching themselves to the surface of her brain. At first she hadn't believed it - any of it. She was a simple girl who knew nothing of the world and all it's atrocities, only things that mattered to her. Her diet, her school work, her friends, her family. Brock, her everything. SOTF? It could've meant anything to Hilary, anything at all, and she still wouldn't have heard of it. Every year the threat of it loomed over America's schools, and every year there were talks and assemblies warning the children of the dangers these terrorist might one day bring. It didn't matter. To them, the whole thing seemed impossible. Who on earth would take Bayview? Who could actually kidnap an entire year of students without anybody noticing? No-one.

That's why she hadn't believed it when she woke up in that kitchen. That's why she questioned the device around her neck. That's why she didn't trust Harold, or Will.

That's why it hurt so much when she finally opened her eyes.

----

She couldn't sleep. A full day before she had spent in stasis, alone on the tiled floor; her body still ached. For Hilary, Day One was yesterday, the day she first heard the speakers screech into life. Every bone she had wanted to move, to walk, to run, anywhere, but she knew better now. She'd seen what happened to people in the night, and it made her numb. So many bodies she'd seen, on her way here - so much proof. Her mind was telling her not to get sucked in - "It's all a lie! They're tricking you again!" - but then she touched their skin and felt the stillness of their blood. The others here, her classmates, had changed. Some were frozen, some were fire, but all of them had grown ugly in the light of the game, and their twisted faces frightened her.

Again, she asked herself, why she was here. Why was she the one to get dumped onto this island? Why was she the one who had to sleep in the dirt and the shadows in case someone attacked her? There was no-one else she could pose these questions to; no-one would give her the answers she wanted. They'd sooner slit her throat than tell her everything was going to be alright, and so she decided to spend the hours hiding out in bushes, watching for any signs of life nearby. There was no way she'd let someone catch her now, she'd run forever if it meant she didn't die. And whenever she found herself with a second or two of safe, blissful time, her thoughts would turn to those who she had yet to find.

But now was not that time. The seconds she had saved up by lying behind a fallen tree were suddenly snatched away by the emergence of a figure in the distance. Their shape was distinctly male, but their features were hidden by the illumination of the night upon their silhouette. She knelt down behind her "wall", watching on as he looked up at the stars. He too, was drawn to the mystical - the lights that seemed so heavenly and yet she knew would burn if touched. Did that make him a star? This lonesome boy who she knew nothing of losing himself in the ocean above. A gentle - and cold - wind pushed her hand back down behind the tree. There would be no contact here, no emotional greeting. Stars were only felt by the canvas of space, not by someone so... mortal.

Then a light; it burst forth from the path below like a star itself, rising up until it collided with her own.

Omar.

It had a name, after all.
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