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i'm not upset
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((Isabel Guerra continued from -.-- -.-- --.. ))

Isabel had been running. She had run for hours and hours. It wasn’t the best use of her limited remaining energy, but it had always calmed her down. It made her feel like she was going towards something, like she had a destination, a purpose. She had been running ever since the attack on the group right after they’d gotten out the island’s location on the trumpet. Then she realized she was lost in the woods and had separated from everyone else. She couldn’t go back, not when there was a chance of running into a psycho with a gun. So she started running again. She was looking for the others, Dave, Helen, Winnie, Kitty, Leila. Roland. Isabel had to make sure they were okay. She was also looking for Hayley. Isabel needed to tell Hayley to stop killing people. She had taken Ethan’s letter and the location of the island, folded them in half and stuck them down her shirt. She could show Hayley how they’d done it. She’d believe her then that they called for help. They were going to be rescued.

Isabel came upon an area of houses. She stumbled forward, dragging her feet as she walked. She hadn’t stopped moving since she had lost the group, always running. The announcements went off overhead again. Her head lolled and she closed her eyes even as she shuffled towards the houses. She couldn’t hear the names really; they were just a buzzing noise slightly outside her realm of consciousness. Her whole body felt like it was being pulled towards the ground.

She hadn’t slept for three days. She hadn’t eaten for two days. She was out of food and water. Her bag hung off of her shoulder as emaciated looking as its owner. All that was left inside was her trumpet, a large shard of jagged mirror from the mirror house, her travel sized toiletries and three empty water bottles.

She had been exerting herself too much. She had pushed too hard without stopping or refueling. It was a problem Isabel often had when exercising; she never knew when she had pushed herself too far.

She lifted her head and walked past a rusty little gate to the backyard of one of the houses.

I’m going to die. I feel like I’m dying. I’m going to die here.

The world tilted under her feet and she fell to her knees in the dirt. She put her hands forward and her fingers dug into the soil. Her head leaned down under the burden of its own weight and her curls hung, almost brushing the ground.

“Someone help me. Oh god, please. Please someone help me,” she whispered.

Weak little girl.

Everything blurred in front of her eyes. She was crying. Sharp stabs of air were sucked down when she opened her mouth. She couldn’t control her breathing.

“I can take it,” she whispered. “I’m not weak. I……I can……..I can take it” she choked out.

She squeezed her eyes shut and little droplets fell near her fingers. Roland had taken out his sword when he saw the intruders. He was only trying to protect them. Isabel desperately hoped that Roland hadn’t died trying to protect them like Feo had. She wanted to see the others so badly it hurt, just to know they were all safe. Or perhaps she was to the point here merely being awake hurt. Despite what she hoped, deep down she knew Roland hadn’t made it out. There was just some feeling that told her so.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I took responsibility and it was my fault when things went wrong. The whole group, you were good people. Great people. I let you down, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said quietly between sobs.

Sitting there in the dirt, nearly dead of exhaustion, she wondered why she was alive. Why had she made it this far when there were people who were much stronger, smarter, more capable who had died? What was she living for? The questions were too complex for her to think about. Time slowed. She couldn’t even remember her name. Isabel’s arms crumpled and she slumped forward. Isabel lay motionless in the middle of the neglected garden.
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