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D--> I need a towel
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Kyle felt clean now. There was a difference (for him, at least) between being clean and feeling clean. During biology, after dissecting fetal pigs, he had felt dirty even though there was no viscera on his hands. It had taken nine washings to stop himself from feeling dirty- three threes. Nine was an important number to Kyle, because of his OCD. It was why September was his favorite month- he rarely felt harried or nauseated during September. He despised June and December because they were two and four threes, respectively. But that was a digression.

Kyle felt clean now. He stood up, brushing his wet hair out of his face. His jeans were soaked, and felt stiff, but he didn't mind. He paced toward the shore, where Hayley was discussing their plans with Ema. Go to the Hut. Meet up with the others. Kyle hoped they got there first, simply because of some things niggling in the back of his mind. Like Hayley's status as a player, and the danger that posed. He was almost certain Hayley had thought of it too. Methodically, Kyle pulled on his soaking shirt, pulling at the bottom three times. He had gotten good at making his triple actions seem natural, seem like the normal nervous reactions people have to things. Touching the ear- he always brushed his hand against his three times.

Kyle felt clean now. And even cleaner. He had noted, and worried over, an increase in the urge to do things in triplicate. His inability to complete his normal daily rituals had not gone unnoticed. Neither had his body failed to notice that he still wasn't truly protecting Hayley. It was strange- she wasn't hurt, but she wasn't... whole either. It seemed like her mind was degrading- not her intelligence, but her sanity. She wasn't acting insane, but there was a remarkable difference from when she had been incapable of... anything complicated after her first kill, to not even caring after her second. To be fair, her second kill had had it coming, but....

It was scary.

Kyle stood on the shore and looked out at sea. He had been having trouble focusing- an artifact of no sleep and thinking about all the dead people.

'This reminds me of a song....'

He turned to look at Hayley and Ema. "Are we ready to go?"
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Sorry, Mom. Sorry, God. · The Beach: East