"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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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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((Liam "Brook" Brooks, continued from The Only Way Is up))

Thank god he wasn't afraid of the dark, or he'd most likely shit himself to death in abject terror from being in these dark, twisty tunnels.

Why? Why did the island have to be so absolutely terror-inspiring? It wasn't enough that Brook's life had literally become a game of survival, the rules of which he was currently defying so he could continue to be with his best friends (and Leila, who mostly just creeped him out, tits or not). No, the island had to be full of tunnels and darkness and other such atmospheres designed to evoke fear in humans, specifically neurotic teenage boys. Oh, and bodies. The Flowerheads all had the fortune to not encounter any dead bodies that might be lying around, but Brook knew they were there... all thanks to the announcements.

Twice he had sat in the dark, winding tubes of earth, and twice he had to rely on everybody else for the support to stomach the announcements. Brook gave a vain attempt to count just how many of his classmates, friends or otherwise, were now dead. He lost count somewhere during the announcements the first time around just in time for him to puke, a sick and shaking mess. He had just as easily lost count the second time around, the names becoming a blur to him; the words ended up just as meaningless as the voice behind them was cold.

Being in a place that had probably never seen the light of day for so long hadn't helped matters any, but that was something that had seemed to affect all of them. Regardless, here they all were, mostly healthy and alive on day 3 (though Brook had no idea just what time of day it was). Nathan had stepped up a bit more, acting as a polarizer to whenever any of them felt a bit down, Jason was being a leader as usual, and Maf was being rather quiet... also like usual. Then there was their most recent member, who Brook was now regretting as wanting to take along in the first place. Maybe it was her speech back at the mountain, or her mannerisms, but something about her was just so goddamn... off, he guessed?

The note didn't really concern him all that much. It was great that Maf had hope for Jennifer, but he could really only care about Tiffany for the time being. That's all Brook's world was for the moment: his group of friends, Tiffany. The other names on those daily, ear-raping rolecalls mattered but held no more weight than the daily obituaries. It was a shame that she seemed nowhere nearby. Maybe she was close by? Had Brook ever actually been close to enountering her? He had no way of knowing for sure.

Damn Bishop... he's not even here with us, he never deserved her...

The smell, though... Jason smelled something, and that did concern Brook. Something... rotting? There was no ignoring the shiver that ran up his spine when he heard that. Taking the bait like any human would, Brook sniffed the air, and he did in fact smell something.

The smell was something he was very familiar with.

It was faint, but he smelled blood.

His throat tightened, his breathing became panicked. Breathing faster, faster, faster and heavier, Brook looked around for the source. In the dim light of one of the mining lamps hung in the tunnels, he saw what looked to be a red, glistening partial footprint. His first instinct was to immediately take a step back, letting out a soft moan as his eyes betrayed him, following the footprint to another, and another, then to the source of the bleeding... Leila's feet.

"O-oh... oh my god..." Brook whimpered, backing up until he was safely behind Jason, away from the vile stuff.
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Oct 14 2010, 11:38 PM.
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