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Chib
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Oh my god you guys The Riz killed Cara what do!?
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This is nice.

Cold, wet, ostensibly naked in public, and surrounded by murderers. Perhaps the last part was exaggerating, but paranoia's pretty justified when about 50% of the people that were alive six days ago have been killed by their peers. But regardless of all these things, Ema felt nice. It was pretty obvious to her why, there were two very good reasons, but the fact that she could feel so good when so very paranoid, and surrounded by so much legitimate danger, was still quite surprising.

It didn't take long for Hayley to join her, she must've had a little more trouble with her clothes than Ema did, which was a little surprising. But as Ema turned around, she saw Hayley joining her in the water, breaking the silence - save for the lapping of waves - with a somewhat goofy "Er. Boo?", as though she'd been trying to sneak up behind Ema.

She wasn't really paying attention to what was being said, though. Like an adolescent boy seeing Playboy for the first time, there was really only one thing on her mind just then. Hayley was completely naked. Boobs. Holy shit. This is for real. And they're like, right there in front of me. The self control required to keep her hands to herself was astronomical, but years of social ineptitude added to months of specific awkwardness added up to an apprehensiveness that made it a lot easier.

"So? Come on, then. There's more water out there. I mean...uh, duh, it's the ocean. You know what I meant, yeah?"

Oh yeah, the actual reason they were out there. Swimming, not gawking at flesh. What am I, a twelve year old boy? Jesus. This is what the internet was supposed to prepare me for. But still, she hadn't been prepared, and it did take a while to stop staring, and just avert her eyes to somewhere, anywhere else. And by that point, Hayley had prised one arm away from Ema's midriff, taken her hand, and dragged her off deeper into the water. Maybe she didn't notice. Or didn't care?

Too busy overthinking everything, Ema was thrown to the ground when the wave hit her, landing headfirst on the soft sand previously at her feet. She shot back up, petrified of being pulled under and drowned, and spat salt-water out of her mouth, whilst rubbing it out of her eyes. Yeah, swimming drunk, great idea she thought, looking around for Hayley. Fuck fuck fuck where'd she go I don't wanna be aloOh there she is thank God. She waded back to Hayley's depth, still trying to get stubborn drops of seawater out of her mouth, and asked, quite rhetorically "Maybe this," splutter, "Wasn't a great idea?"

And she took hold of Hayley's hand once again, just in case, and tried to figure out where her eyes should be focused.

What am I doing?, asked a small voice in her head, apparently out of nowhere. Kyle died this morning. This bloody morning. What's wrong with me?

Like so many other terrible things she didn't want to accept responsibility for, Ema just tried not to think about it. Put it from her mind, and hoped it went away. She wasn't a bad person. Right? But then she did have an answer.

Last time we drank together, she forgot about me and went off with some guy. It's only fair she forgets about the guy and goes off with me this time around.

Horribly selfish? Maybe. But Ema focused on the poetic justice instead. That was more palatable, less sociopathic. That she hadn't died last time didn't factor into it. And she felt okay about herself again. And she kissed Hayley again.
Every time you fall asleep you die. Someone else wakes up in your body, thinking they're you.
You are alone and trapped in your own mind, the world around you is your lie.
Soon you will be nothing, you will never again hear sounds, never again see colours, never again be anyone.


Riley Moon appreciates that Action Needs an Audience, but it's hard not to watch. Hair Status: Bubblegum Pink
Parallel with: The Heavy Weapons Guy

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