"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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Viewing Single Post From: Peripeteia
Solomir
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Nanotech Engineer
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"Fucking hell, Hunt. Keep fucking talking!" Peter shot a glare up at Steven's face, then at Brendan, then back to the bandage. Furiously, he pulled again at the ends, hoping to tighten it to staunch the flow of blood completely. It didn't matter if he cut off all blood to his leg. It didn't matter if Steven wasn't going to walk again. He just needed to save him.

Who was he kidding? Peter'd known this was a losing proposition to start. He should've known. Steve Digaeteno hadn't lasted more than two minutes after his femoral had been hit. Hunt had held out impressively, but the end result had been clear the moment he'd seen the damage. Another dead-end scenario, and Peter knew exactly who was to blame.
He's a murderer. And what do I do to murderers?
Peter whirled around to face the killer. "Brendan," Peter intoned, letting his voice rumble through the dark cavern, "explain to me what the fuck happened." But Brendan had scurried off to cower against the walls. Peter sighed, pushed himself up to his feet and slowly walked toward the other boy. The faint sound of shuffling behind him caught his attention.

Right; there was that other girl too. He turned his head to get a glance of her face. The lighting was minimal, but Peter's eyes had long adjusted to what was available. Jackie Broughten. She'd been on the first announcements; but not again. Could've been a misunderstanding, or she'd just gotten lucky. She looked anything but threatening now. Peter could take care of her later, as long as he kept an eye on her and she didn't try anything funny. "Stay there. Don't move." Peter growled as he glared at her.

He turned back to face Brendan, who hadn't said a word since he'd shown up to his cries for help. "Do you have any fucking idea what you've done?" Peter seethed with every word. This fucking wretched thing had the audacity to call him over to clean up his goddamned spilled milk. "You did this. You shot him, because he sure as hell didn't shoot himself in the leg. So I'm gonna give you one fucking chance to explain your fucking self." Every word seemed to follow its own crescendo, compounding one after another until Peter was all but yelling.

But only silence came in reply.

Peter stared, then sighed. "You're fucking pathetic, you know Brendan?" Peter spat with disdain. "You shoot somebody to death. Your first kill, if I recall correctly." Peter took a step over to the fallen gun and picked it up, making sure to flick the safety on. No sense in repeating history. "You had this gun, and you either know how to use it or you're a fucking idiot and should never be allowed to have one. I'd have thought you could fucking handle what this all comes to mean. For God's sake, it's been a fucking week. But no, you're just going to sit there being useless and pathetic. You can't even fucking man up and accept the responsibility of what you just fucking did."

For a moment, Peter wasn't in a cave anymore. For a moment, Peter was standing in a patch of bloodstained grass, looking at the tattered flesh that had been Lucas' throat. He'd let things go out of control. For a moment, Peter was kneeling in swamp mud, shedding a tear on the only person who'd never stopped caring. He'd led her into the line of fire. For a moment, Peter prayed at a broken altar, overlooking the bloody remains of what had been Jessie. He'd been rash, impulsive, and intoxicated.

For a moment, Peter just didn't want to face the oncoming train carrying every failure he'd ever been.

Peter raised his hand just slightly. The barrel of the pistol lined up with the center of Brendan's forehead. The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar. The dim light of the flashlights barely let him see Brendan's face: slack jawed and wide-eyed and staring off into something a million miles away. What a fucking waste of everyone's time here.

"You're such a waste of air around here. You get up and you're just going to fucking end up shooting someone else again, and we'll be fucking back at square one. Except, well, another innocent person would be dead. Like Jackie back there." Peter's grip tightened around the pistol, knuckles white. "Or you'll do it and be a murderer. Neither of those are of any fucking good to anybody on this island.

"So tell me: why shouldn't I just shoot you right now?"
Please tell me why not.
V5


B036: Benjamin Ward: "Sh-shut the fuck up. Or I'll k-kick your ass."
B047: Marcus Leung: "Let's start by staying calm."


V4

Rest in peace

B004 - Peter Siu: "We're all fuck-ups."
G006 - Tiffany Baker: "Will you stay with me, until I wake up?"
G027 - Marybeth Witherspoon: "The cameras are pointing here, not there."
B115 - Tony Russo: "I'm sorry...."
G087 - Rachel Gettys: "I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell."
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