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i'm not upset
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Isabel had just completed another shift on the bike. She got off and sat down next to Dave when Helen had passed them a bit of paper with a question. She carefully took the pencil from Helen and looked at the paper for a moment before writing.

Yes. I would have.

She paused. The end tapped against her closed mouth for a moment while she thought. She thought of the announcements, of the innocent detonated classmate and the teacher still alive.

We should have.

Without looking to see what the reaction would be she picked up her bag. She leaned back down to write Gonna shower. Back in a bit. and put the pencil back on the paper. Looking around the cabin, she didn't find a bathroom or a shower. She walked out and finally saw a drain on the floor near the side of the cabin and a shower head. She grimaced a bit, but pulled the towel and travel sized shampoo from her bag.

Isabel sat down and took of her shoes. Her socks clung to her feet with sweat and dirt. She was keenly aware of the cameras outside of the hut.

Oh well, I guess my showering habits were going to be on television.

She peeled off her shirt and slid down her skirt. Both items were grungy and the shirt was a bit stiff. Isabel turned so that she faced the wall. It would be easier to pretend there weren't cameras that way. After fiddling with the taps for a bit, lukewarm water rained down. Isabel closed her eyes and her wet hair stuck to her face. The water felt good at least.

Simon....poor sweet guy. He's gone. He didn't deserve this. He only deserved good things. Allen is still out there too. Such a nice guy, Allen. I should have said something to him when I had the chance. I should have really gone for it at prom. I was just too scared. Is murder island really less scary than giving a guy a kiss? He doesn't deserve this either. Deserve....what does anyone deserve? I want to see Hayely. If I could just get to Hayley one more time. She's a murderer now. If I could find her she'd tell me they were accidents. They were self defense kills. The Hayley I know isn't a murderer. But maybe she isn't the Hayley I knew anymore.

From the corner of her eye she could still see the limp leg of the dead boy peaking out from around the corner. Am I bad for having abandoned Liz? Am I worse for thinking of killing her? She squirted about a fourth of the tiny bottle in her hand and smashed it into her hair. Isabel couldn't be bothered to find real soap, she just used the suds from the shampoo. The names didn't seem to fade much from her skin.

Trusty permanent marker.

Out of the same bag she kept the shampoo she pulled out a cheap, single blade, plastic razor. She took care of her underarms and went over her legs, trying to be careful of the many cuts that marked her ankles.

I wonder if my parents are watching. I wonder if my dad is watching. It would be the first time in a few years since he's seen me.

Isabel turned off the tap and used a small towel she packed to dry her self. She pulled the dirty shirt over her head onto her wet bra and jammed her skirt back into place. With her skirt on she slid her underwear off and put on a new pair under the skirt in an attempt to keep some modesty. There was still a new pair of socks in her bag.

At least I'm clean. Now I feel almost human again.

All nice and clean except for her outer clothes. She had packed more clothes but there was some strange determination she had to make it through in the same clothes she started in. Probably the same strange thing that wouldn't let her throw away that damn trumpet.

Barefoot, she took up her dirty socks and underwear and her sneakers and walked back to the cabin. She had to pass by Ethan again to get back in. Isabel knelt back down by him and looked at him. She recognized him now. He had worked at the math tutoring center. She gingerly took his glasses off of his face and put them on her own. The world was a blur. Isabel took them off and put them back on him, shaking her head. Isabel tilted her head and gazed at him a moment.


She stood back up with her things and walked back in. Right away she saw that going barefoot was a stupid thing to do. She tip toed around the glass littering the floor until she got to the sink and opened the drawer, tossing her dirty laundry into the garbage bin. Inside the room with her companions things looked unchanged. She sank back down next to them and looked at the computer. They had been peddling for hours. It wouldn't be long now.
Edited by Ruggahissy, Jan 2 2011, 01:28 PM.
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House of the Rising Sun · The Ranger Station