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D--> I need a towel
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((Kyle Portman continued from Break Up and Break Down.))

The trip was too short.

It had mostly passed in silence. There hadn't been anything to say. Kyle had dutifully followed Hayley. He had used the silence to think. And despite the length of the journey, his thoughts had never settled. Never decided what he was going to say. What could he say? What do you say to your girlfriend after she becomes a murderer and is basically ostracized by her friends? While Kyle agreed with her motives, it didn't make it any less murderous. He briefly wondered how the ones who won were treated when they got home. Were they jailed, quietly and without fuss? Or were they allowed to walk the streets, haunted by the memories, the dead eyes and bleeding bodies that littered their path home, no longer able to truly function in society. The Government usually avoided the subject of SoTF if it was brought up. It was a sore spot, what with Danya evading capture for so long. So those winners....

More importantly.... The thought had been niggling at the back of Kyle's mind since before he confronted Nancy. He wanted to win this game. He wanted to go home, to live. But.... For him to win, Hayley would have to die. The thought brought panic to Kyle's chest and tears to his eyes. It nearly made him throw up, although he quenched the nausea. He would never be able to do it himself. And letting her die.... The thought repulsed him. If they got to the Final Four together.... He would ask her to kill him. It was the only option. Although, that if was a pretty big one....

And now they were at the beach. Hayley wasted no time in taking off her boots and stepping into the sand. Kyle sedately gathered her boots and moved further down the beach to make a pile. The darkness around him seemed to mock the dark thoughts in his mind. The flashlight hidden within the day pack made his life that much brighter. He turned to show Hayley what he had found, but nearly choked. She had taken off her dress entirely, which... honestly shouldn't have surprised Kyle. She needed to clean up, and she wouldn't be able to do that with the dress on. He felt himself reddening. Despite some physical contact between them, they had so far remained celibate. From the dark whispering and bathroom graffiti, that made Kyle an outlier on the graph of relationships Hayley Kelley had had. He was aware of several of them; it would have taken much more subtlety than High School students were capable of to keep those rumors from reaching his ears. He had never confronted Hayley about it. It was her business who she dated, not any of his problem. As long as she didn't cheat on him, he was fine with her past.

A moment later, Kyle shook his head and looked down. Hayley had walked down to the water and was now, as best Kyle could see by the light of the moon (there was no way in hell he was shining his light on her with the cameras watching), crouching down in the water. Probably to allow the waves to wash off the blood and stuff. Still dutiful, Kyle gathered Hayley's dropped dress and placed it along with his other stuff. It was only now that he removed his shoes and socks, allowing the sand, still warm from the sun, to surround his feet. It was comforting. It reminded him of a long forgotten memory. No time for introspection, though. Kyle's injured hand... had it really only been a day ago? Nearly two now, he supposed. It felt like months. It occurred to him that the knife he still carried in his pocket had tasted blood once already. He might die before it got to taste blood again. A macabre thought. His injured hand twinged again, putting Kyle's train of though back on track. He quickly unwound the bandage to check the progress. It had stopped bleeding, probably hours ago. Probably even longer than that. No need to waste guaze on it then. He wrapped it with just bandages, noting that he was nearly out. He would have to hope they didn't become necessary.

With that taken care of, and a deep breath to steel his will, Kyle took his shirt off and followed Hayley's path down to the ocean. He paused at the shore, took his knife from his pocket, and tossed it toward his stuff. He didn't see where it landed, but a pass over with the flash light showed a glint where it was hiding. It was near enough to the pile of stuff that it was no worry. Kyle turned off the flash light and approached Hayley, making sure to splash loud enough that he wouldn't startle her. He didn't think she would hurt him, not on purpose, but you never knew.

"Hey. Do you... um... need help washing your back or anything?"

Oh God. It even tasted lame.
Edited by armeggedonCounselor, Oct 9 2010, 12:43 AM.
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Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God. · The Beach: East