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A friendly clown welcomes you to LOCAH. It seems he would like to be your guide.
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So now that was done, now another boy was dead, now Hayley Kelly had sunk her curved blade into a second neck, felt a second blood spray, a second head lay on the floor, a second red red body had fallen prone in front of her, a second kill would be attributed to her name in the Survival of the Fittest recordbooks.

The main difference this time was that Hayley really didn't give a fuck.

He deserved it.

It was only after the fact that she was able to realize the corpse belonged (Used to belong? Fuck, how does possession work when you're dead? There's laws about that shit...) to one James Mulzet, a boy she had never, ever liked. Of course, being someone that annoyed Hayley Kelly was not grounds for death- if it was most of the world would be condemned- and she wouldn't have damned anyone she hated on sight. Not even- she groaned as she realized she must be on this island somewhere- fucking Annaliese Hansen. Nope, Hayley wasn't out for revenge- what fucking teenage sin was worth killing someone over?

Of course, pointing a gun at someone's boyfriend and ex-girlfriend best friend is not a typical teenage sin. And Hayley would be straight damned if she was gonna get away with that on her fucking watch.

Not to even go INTO how the little fuckhead called me a whore.

Yeah, sucks for you, asshole. Victory for Hayley, mhm, and what, bitches!

She hummed the victory tune from Final Fantasy- in her head, having no desire to make Kyle and Ema think she was crazy or, well, crazier, I guess- and then finally exited her headspace and re-entered the real world.

The first thing she said out loud was something like "Aueughhh."

She was covered in blood. And, like, muscle or some shit. Bone fragments. Ewwwwh... Last time she was too weak to properly comprehend how gross this all was. Hayley wasn't squeamish, not in the least, and she didn't feel like vomiting (this time, anyway), but this is so fucking...ergh...Fuck you, James Mulzet, for making my life gross from beyond the damn grave. I JUST washed. Like, yesterday. Well. Good think I'm already like practically naked, otherwise I'd just be wasting more fucking clothes...

She almost laughed. So I'm mostly naked and covered in blood. This is, like, some snuff film shit right here.

Cautiously, trying not to show any signs of weakness while simultaneously trying to not to touch the corpse more than was absolutely necessary, Hayley bent down to remove the boy's daypack from his person- not quite managing to disguise her revulsion enough to avoid cringing as the body bent in a not-attainable-in-life position. She retrieved the water bottles from the daypack and unhesitatingly poured them on herself, one after the other, a bullshit shower for bullshit times. Since the blood was fresh, she managed to make herself something-close-to-clean.

"What is it with you and heads?"

Hayley looked up at Kyle and Ema for the first time, blinking innocently. I must look like a fucking psycho right now. An adorable psycho though. But like, they've gotta understand, right? They'd probably be dead right now if it wasn't for me. And indeed, neither of them looked angry with her. Ema looked sick, in fact it appeared she'd just thrown up- poor girl...not that I can blame her -and Kyle looked...angry, but somehow not at her. He was nearly as blood-splatted as she was. Why is that? Why him and not her? Weird.

“Well. Stick with what works, right?” She laughed weakly. “I wasn't really thinking about it. It just...I had to do something. Quickly enough that he wouldn't have a chance to shoot me. Or you. Logic, right?”

Her voice was so dang calm it was freaking her out a little.

“Now there's gonna be an even bigger target on my back but hell if I don't have a good excuse this time. Not like Danya's gonna make it sound that way but still.”

But still, I'm not playing. Right?

She was almost surprised that her inner voice had no response to that.

Hayley then finally finally FINALLY turned her attention to a matter of much importance to her. To the gun that had dropped out of the now dead body's (she refused to think James's, refused to even chance feelings of guilt) hand. It hadn't traveled at all, really. It was a little bloody, but she hardly thought that mattered.

A gun a gun a gun I have a gun. Holy shitting fuck. It's so...pretty. Who thinks of guns as pretty? Damn, I really am insane. But oh well, fuck it, I HAVE A FUCKING GUN.

She put her sword down for the moment- somehow it was so much easier than last time- carefully picked it up- accidentally shooting herself right now would ruin her fucking day so hard- and admired it for a second. She realized after a moment that she had no idea if the safety was on or what- she'd never held a handgun before, after all- and, keeping her hand tight around the gun's grip, searched through dead-boy's bag with her other hand, locating the manual. She skipped straight to the word 'safety' and, comparing the gun she held to the diagrams, discovered that the safety was off. Her heart skipped a beat as she once again realized exactly how close they had all been to death, but she flipped it off for now. Reaching back into the boy's bag she found two things that could only be clips, magazines, whatever the hell you wanted to call them. She put those in her bag along with the manual, figuring she could read it on the walk back to the groundskeeper's hut.

Armed and dangerous.

Hayley's eyes flicked back to the body for a moment. So much red red blood. Gross. Centered around- huh. That was weird. There was blood still leaking steadily from where dead-boy's head had once been, but there was a spot in the middle, too, another spot where the bloodstains seemed to center themselves. Another wound? From-


In the heat of the moment a girl can't be expected to notice every damn thing.

Step by step. Step, step, step, forward, forward. Pathetic, stuttered sounds from a dead boy's mouth.

Step, step.

Silent as an undug grave.

More words. Words from a dead boy's-

No, not a dead boy's, words from the living.


That was Kyle. She knew that voice so well but she never knew it to lose its temper that way, to scream, to be so full of such anger that surely it would rip something in two. Someone. Someone?

Step, step.

A shape moved with her. Forward. Perfectly synchronized, not that either knew it at the time. Dead-boy was meat in a fuckin' death sandwich. Om nom nom.

Somehow, it felt good. She wasn't a bad person.

Or at least if she was, she wasn't alone.

Hayley looked up at Kyle and realized for the first time that he was holding a knife. It was bloody.

What do I say? What's the right response to your boyfriend trying to preserve your honor by stabbing the shit out of someone? Like, normally I'm pretty sure that's uncool, but this is Survival of the Fucking Fittest. And said shit-stabbed-out-dead-boy was kind of pointing a gun at him.

“Thanks,” she said with a small smile. She retrieved her sword from the ground. It was bloody now too, obviously, but whatever. We have water, they're cleanable.

“We should probably get going, though. Someone else could've heard the gunshot. And besides, we're supposed to be meeting the others, right?”

After a moment of thought she approached Ema.

“And you should take this.”

She proffered the sword. Some part of her was possessive towards the thing but hell, it's not like I named it or anything. And I've got a gun and she doesn't have anything as far as I can tell.

“I don't think I'm gonna need it anymore.”
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

Those Who've Known - V4
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