"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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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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There was a bang. The last noise Ivan was ever to hear.

So many thoughts... so many thoughts he had left un-plotted, and that just wasn't fair to them. So many things he never got to do, or to say, or to feel. He wanted to surpass his mother, the great Mischa Kuznetsova, in tennis and go on to be a pro. He wanted to get an education in astronomy or maybe engineering if he had to, something that he could use as a fallback if he got injured or things turned out the way he didn't want them to. He wanted to do so many things that seemed so far away when he was trapped on this rock in the middle of the ocean, and for reasons none of them would ever understand. Most of all, he just wanted to be a son, a nephew, and a big brother.

Now he would be none of those things.

...

... I had... an awful long time to think that...

He feared what he might see if he opened his eyes, but Ivan opened them regardless. Rather than a vision of the pearly gates or, as he feared, the black-tipped flames of hell, he saw Clio Gabriella clutching the ground and dragging herself over to somebody... somebody that he didn't realize was there before, because he could have swork the shotgun just ripped through his skull. The shotgun... that was laying right before him, on the ground where Clio once stood in her attempt to end his life. But... how did it happen?

His tired eyes strained to look in the direction of the frantic and probably dying girl who had been so close to committing murder herself. The boy there didn't seem to be packing any heat, and he definitely heard a gun go off. If Clio had turned the shotgun on herself, she would have splattered all over the damn road. It wasn't him who shot her, which meant it had to be some sort of person he hadn't noticed before. Where was the external party that had just downed Clio? Were they really out to save him, or did they just want the satisfaction of killing him themselves?

It wasn't until he turned around to make sure that Tabi was okay that he saw the smoking gun in her hand.

No... no way...

She couldn't have... of all the people to shoot somebody on the island, Tabi? He wasn't disappointed or angry at her actions or any shit like that, his body was far too numbed with pain and his mind too numbed with shock to handle anything like that. But how... how did she pull through and take a life to save him?

Ivan swallowed the rising lump in his throat and summoned the courage to stand up, scooping up the shotgun as he did so. There was still the interloper who Clio had crawled to. Upon closer inspection and a decent train of thought (which involved sweeping several pieces of mindfucking information under the rug for now), he identified the boy as Simon Telamon. Who, if the 'grapevine' which he could never escape no matter how hard he tried was correct, just so happened to be the latest fling for Clio.

... Fuck.

Ivan cautiously approached Simon, the shotgun at the ready. Clio looked to have stopped moving, her cries ceasing. For some reason, he felt... sad. Sad that the girl had to go as broken as she was, with no chance to be fixed... to die with a happy heart. If only he could say a few words, something to express the vague, indescribable feeling of pity and kindness that he only wanted to share with Clio now that she had died. Only once she passed did Ivan see her not as a murderer and somebody who was attempting to kill him in a fervor, but as a girl who really had lost her way. He had almost become her, were it not for Tabi, and now Tabi had killed her. She needed his attention, but Simon needed it more right now.

"I want you to back away. ... Please. There's nothing you can do for her now."
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