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Can you hear me?
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
She could just shoot him.

She could get him, get revenge.

So why couldn't she do it?

She never really wanted to kill. She knew that. But she was so scared and sad and angry and god knows what else. Was she really going to shoot after all?

But she wasn't a natural killer. Was she? She always saw herself as an innocent, someone who would never hurt someone else. She wasn't Maxwell Lombardi or Madelaine Smith or R.J. Lowe or Rachel Gettys or Nick Reid or Quincy Jones or Alex Rasputin. She was Anna Chase, right? But what then defined Anna Chase? She was here, pointing a crossbow at Marty's murderer.



He was saying her name.

She was going to hell, he said. She was going to be damned if she ever pulled that trigger. Was she? No, she was already in hell. That sounded like something "Pandora" would say, but there you go. Did it even look like she was having a fun time? Did it look like she was safe? Did she look like someone who wasn't suffering?

Of course not.

She was already in hell. Did he seriously think that she hadn't suffered already?! That was what the definition of hell was. Suffering. Anna Chase was suffering.

It all sounded melodramatic, but there it was. The truth. She wasn't happy. Far from it.

"N..." she had attempted to speak. "Ni..."

Say something, girl.

But she couldn't. Nothing could come out.

Her hands were still shaking. She could get him, right on the spot. If she stayed steady... if she got rid of that thing known as a conscience... then Nick would... well, he wouldn't be standing anymore. She would have avenged Marty and defended herself, right? She would live for another day. She wasn't sure if she was ever going to go home, but she'd live for another day. That was what was important.

But she couldn't. She couldn't fire. She was unable to. Her finger kept faintly touching the trigger, but she couldn't pull. She couldn't do it.

And suddenly Chase lowered the crossbow.

She... wouldn't.

And without any warning signs, she found herself making a choked sob. There was nothing she could do to prevent herself from crying. All of her emotions were flooding out like a leak in a dam, right at that moment. No, crying wasn't going to help. Nick might find an opportunity to get her. He was using her emotions against her. Damn it. She didn't want to get emotional.

But here she was, sobbing like a child in some fairground on some deserted island and holding a crossbow. She was... pathetic. But she had to live, right? That's one of the main things she wanted. She wasn't sure what reasons she felt she had to live, but the desire was there. But... but... oh hell, what "buts" were there?

Coming to a V7 near you.
Bree Jones- "I'm not exaggerating when I say that my fish are smarter."
Roxanne "Roxie" Borowski- "Next video? Oh man, tons of ideas, dude. Lemme get the makeup for that."

In Loving Memory

Kami's Promise for v6 (doing this again)

Let's show that private threads aren't necessary! I pledge not to start any private threads on island in V6. If I started a thread, you are welcome to join it.
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Later, Buddy · The Fun Fair