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Solitair
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Where modesty's ill manners, 'tis but fit that impudence and malice pass for wit.
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((I'm going to skip over Geno... again... in order to get Lily out of here.

When Lily told Rob that his joke was in poor taste, her voice barely audible (or so she thought), he looked at her and and stared daggers into her eyes. Anything else she wanted to say died in her throat, and she could have sword her heart skipped a beat. There was hatred in that glare, seething, burning hatred wholly out of proportion with what Lily said to him. Such a reaction from an armed man worried her.

Once she knew that Rob Jenkins was a murderer, it only got worse. Aaron confirmed the fact, and Lily tried to connect the dots just after it would have made a difference. She knew his name sounded familiar somehow; she'd probably heard it on the announcements. Only killers and victims made it on there, and since Rob was dead, it limited his options.

Did she ever talk to Rob during school? He was probably an athlete, but she didn't remember ever seeing him work. Did he play hockey, basketball, soccer? Was he this angry at school. It couldn't be. She didn't want to believe that. It was the game. The game was making everyone crazy.

Her eyes turned to Aaron; she wasn't sure he didn't go a little crazy, either. He refused to back down from Rob, his mind surely racing to figure out how to get out of this. "A-Aaron," she said, "can we go? They're not interested in joining-" She caught herself in the act of hypocrisy before she finished the sentence. At the house from before, Lily wished that the crowd of people could have joined them in their quest to escape, that Aaron hadn't played hardball with them. Now she wanted to get away from more people just because one scared her half to death?

It was probably something she'd blown out of proportion, but it only served to highlight how truly unprepared for this game she was. This compromise would only be the first of many, and when she got out with everyone else, it would take years, decades maybe, for her to reconcile the old world with the new. She didn't know what worried her more, the possibility that she wouldn't make sense of it all, or that she might never get the chance to.

She wanted to be anywhere else right now. She wanted to meet with GodSpeed again, all of them, dead and living. Even if it meant seeing Rachel again, she'd take the opportunity in a heartbeat. She wanted to help Roland with his homework, and get help from him in return. She wanted to see a movie with her dad, go to the park with her mom, practice her gymnastics routine like nothing had ever happened.

Aaron didn't listen. He was too concerned with his version of the events, a paranoid fantasy in any world but this. A rustle in the bush gave him a new tangent to follow, introduced another face only he knew, the face of another murderer. "Aaron, please," she said, trying to get his attention as he threw baseless conjecture around like dried rice. "Aaron, you don't-"

And then the shots rang out. "AARON!" she shrieked, looking forward again to see the bullets impact Rob square in the chest.

She looked back, and Aaron, was running, followed by a furious Aileen. She had no choice but to try and catch up with them, try and make sense of Aaron's actions. She was sure that she'd still follow him as long as he had his plan, but that didn't make being around him any easier.

She just didn't want anyone else to die.

((Lillian Hayes concluded in You Don't Have to Do This))
Edited by Solitair, Jan 6 2011, 05:00 PM.
WickedIcon: i just launched a baby wearing a denim jacket and a bowler hat across a hospital, through a window, killing several patients, destroying thousands of dollars of equipment, and finally coming to rest on the body of a presumably dead clown
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chitoryu12I have yet to find gay sex that involves the men punching each other. I must not be on the internet enough

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