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Little Boy
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STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
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Dutchy stood behind Roland, rubbing his hands together, trying to keep calm. The casual way Roland had dropped his guard was encouraging, but Dutchy wasn't stupid. He knew the dangers of the Island were all too real, even if he hadn't witnessed all that much personally. The girls in front of him hadn't had the luck of holding up in a building for the better part of the competition. They'd seen bodies, they'd seen blood and atrocities far worse then anything he could comprehend. Dutchy kept his head hung low, avoiding their gaze, trying not to panic.

What if they aren't so friendly? What if they've got weapons?

As terrible as the notion was, Dutchy couldn't dismiss it. Half of his classmates were dead, and that wasn't all due to freak accidents. It was a bitter truth to face, terrifying, contradicting everything he'd ever known about Bayview. But some of his clasmates were no longer friends. They were predators. Monsters.

"Roland..." Dutchy began, his voice fading away.

Stupid Dutchy. Roland knows what he's doing. Don't get in his way, any more then you already are-

And then, something struck him.

At first, Dutchy was sure it was a person. Someone who he hadn't seen, jumping from a bush to knock him to the ground. He let out a scared yelp of pain, stumbling a moment before collapsing in a heap. His leg was suddenly throbbing, the tell tale sign of an injury. He looked down, a large rock say in the grass near him.

Someone hit me.

Dutchyís eyes went wide with fear. With shaky hands he reached towards his knee, clutching it, as if it could stop the pain. He tried to control his breathing. No good.

Donít panic. Donít panic, you canít panic.

It was too late. His knee was skinned, but that was enough. Dutchy hadnít suffered an injury in years, at least, not from another person. It seemed like an eternity since heíd had a problem with anyone. The sheer casual nature of the attack confirmed all his worst fears in a heartbeat. This was not the place for him. He was going to die, very soon, and more then likely not on his own terms.

His mind flashed back, his life before the Island. So far away, a hospital bed, his Uncle, bandaged and burned, a shell of his former self, vomit, burning in his throat.

Donít panic. Donít panic, donít panicÖ

But he couldnít stop. Roland was talking, looking at him with concern. Dutchy brought his head up, wide terrified eyes scanning the forest. The girls in front of them. Roland. There was more. Was it a trap? Were they dead? He couldnít breath. It was all too much. Heíd never hurt anyone, and yet this was his reward.

Iím sorry!

He didnít know who he was shouting too. His attacker? God? Danya? Did it really matter in the end? There would be no forgiveness. Dutchy had done something terrible, what it was he couldnít say. Was it his wish? What was wrong with dying on his own terms?

ď Ďsnot fair.Ē He sobbed, struggling to breath. ďItís not fair, I didnít- I didnít mean- I-ď

His breathing grew faster, louder. He couldnít control himself. His mind was in a blind panic. Heíd been struck with a rock. Why? Just for existing. He was going to die, very soon. He hadnít said goodbye. He hadnít prepared.

ďItís not fair!Ē He sobbed again, his words degenerating into loud panicky gasps, as if he were struggling to take in air. He began to crawl through the grass, separating himself from Roland, the rock, everything, his cries of fear growing louder, stretching out longer, encompassing everything around him. He wasnít thinking. Dutchy had entered a full blown panic mode and try as he may; tears were already streaming down his face. He wobbled to his feet, scrunching up against a tree trunk, terrified of the world.

If I wasnít here, we wouldnít be going through this! If I wasnít here- I- I shouldnít be here! I should be dead already, I should have died first, I wouldíve still been me, I wouldnít- Iím sorry, Iím sorry Roland!

Roland had the rock now; he was holding it up, looking at the group standing before them. Dutchy didnít know who had hit him. He wasnít quite sure it mattered all that much. Roland was getting annoyed, taking personal offence. Things were rushing out of control, and it was all his fault. Dutchy had heard of Survival of the Fittest. He knew what would come next. It was too horrifying to contemplate.

Need to get out. I need to get out!
V5
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Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
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Make Your Own Kind of Music · The Felled Forest: South