"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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D--> I need a towel
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Kyle was surprised at the boy coming out of the forest. He didn't move, didn't flinch, watched the boy watch the ocean for a moment. It seemed he had failed to notice Ema and Kyle.

And then the boy turned. Eye contact was made. And the situation took a downward turn.

The gun came up, leveled at Ema. The boy was yelling, it wasn't coherent. And Kyle's mind betrayed him.

'He's aiming at her. That simplifies the problem. If he shoots her, Hayley is all mine.'


He raised the knife slightly. The movement caught the boy's eye. And now the gun was on Kyle. And the boy was screaming again, telling Kyle to drop the knife. And then he made a fatal mistake.

He called Hayley a whore.

Now, normally, Kyle could deal with that. It happened. Hayley had a reputation, and Kyle had heard about it. But right now, Kyle's nerves were shot, what with his OCD acting up and the lack of sleep, and the overly stressful day he had had yesterday. So his brain shut down.


The yell tore itself free of his throat, a primal roar that begged for satisfaction, for blood. The hand with his knife dropped back as Kyle dove forward, setting off at a run straight for the boy. This was when his brain started screaming. The gun was still pointing directly at him. Then he saw Hayley's sword rise up behind the boy, and strike down. Kyle's momentum kept him moving forward, the knife spinning in his hand as he drove it point first toward the boy- insult to injury, as he was already dead from Hayley's strike.
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Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God. · The Beach: East