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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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((George Leidman continued from Lonely American Nights))

George wasn't sure how long it'd been since he'd run this quickly, and for this distance. He'd been at Dustins burial place, depositing Tims bag, when he heard the announcement. He'd hesitated for half a second, before running as fast as he could through the swamp water, the announcement still playing. It mentioned something about "No murderers allowed" or something, but George kept running, still trying to make himself believe he was innocent.

He was trying not to get his hopes up. If it was a trick, if it was some other student playing a horrible joke on everyone, he didn't think he would be able to take it without breaking down even further. If it was all real, and he wasn't allowed on the boat...

Stop thinking that. I'm not... well... okay, fine, I am a murderer. But... I'm not like Lombardi. Surely they'll be able to see that.

So he stopped thinking, and kept running.


He'd arrived. Out of breath and covered in swamp water, true, but he had arrived. He was at the beach, staring at the boat at the coastline, hardly believing it was truly there. It wasn't over yet, though. There was still the chance he wouldn't be accepted. But he wasn't like Lombardi, or Brook, or some other notorious murderer. Surely they'd accept him?

Taking a deep breath, George walked towards the boat, heart pounding, before stopping a few metres away. He tried to keep the stutter out of his voice, but he was too excited and nervous.

"H-hey." He said, simply. "Uh... My name's... George Leidman. Am I, uh... Do I have permission to leave?"


"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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The Cavalry Arrives · The Beach: North