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((Acacia Salinger continued from Everyday is like Sunday))

Good morning death island.

That was what she had woken up to.

She hadn't been able to find the others, after losing Hayley and Ema and whoever else they had been with, she had attempted to get back to the cliffs. It shouldn't have been too hard, they were, after all, at the southern tip of the island. Just using her compass would have taken her there. Then she realised that she had lost her compass, along with her map, her gun, half her clothes, all of the spare insulin that wasn't currently loaded into the pen, the blood sugar monitoring device. It was her only saving grace that she had been in a hurry to leave the beach and had just thrown it into the bag with everything else.

The down side was that it was her long lasting stuff. Which was fine so long as she didn't eat anything. Well, as far as sshe knew anyway, the fact was that she didn't really understand how all this stuff worked. She injected long lasting, the stuff in the purple pen, in the morning and evening. The fast acting was just before a meal, or just after if she'd eaten too much. Acacia had no idea if they were interchangeable, she'd saved herself from ever having to find out by always having far more with her than she needed. And she was never far from a pharmacy where she could get more if she lost it. She had been prepared for every situation, except this one.

So, after taking an inventory of her belongings, she discovered that she had no food, one bottle of water, one pen of long acting insulin, one sweater, some mascara, a magazine she hadn't even read yet, and a duffel bag with a large hole in the bottom of it. The lack of food didn't matter anyway, without insulin she couldn't eat anything. But the not eating made her tired, and so she lay down for a sleep. And that was when she had been woken up by the voice.

At first, she'd thought it was an announcement. Another day where all her friends turned out to have died in the night and she hadn't been able to do anything to save them. But it wasn't. It was rescue. Someone was coming to save them! Haphazardly, she scrambled to her feet, and nearly fainted as she pitched over sideways. Need to eat something. She rifled through her bag again, her fingers grasping a small bag of boiled sweets that was nestled inside the soft blue sweater. They were slightly melted, and definately not in one of her favourite flavours, but she ripped the bag open and poured the lot of them into her mouth. They were sticky and sweet and she felt queasy as her saliva turned into syrup and swirled unconfortable around her mouth. Hesitantly, she tried to chew them, and her teeth, weakened by days of not having time to brush them, recoiled with pain and Acacia made a stifled cry, muffled by the sweets.

Please take me! she thought weakly to herself, as the voice, that God-like voice, tole them that murderes weren't allowed. "I'm NOT a murderer!" she cried out to the silence, a bird nestled in a bush somewhere nearby flew away. "He wanted me to do it, he wanted me to survive. I didn't want to kill him," she whimpered, leaning heavily on a tree to try and haul herself to her feet. Swaying slightly, the sugar slowly started to take hold, and she started to walk.

It was the slowest walk of her life.

Minutes ticked by. 6 of them. An hour. She walked in the direction that she reckoned the voice had come from. You definately passed that leaf before! Keeping on going.

Trudging. She'd never really understood that word. But this was what trudging was.

Thirty more minutes. Huh? It hadn't been coming from that far away, surely. Once she tripped over a tee shirt that actually belonged to herself, she realised that she must have doubled well back and be back at the cliffs already. But the sea was... behind her? The boat must be near the sea.

The voice spoke again. It was so loud.... Sounded like he was stood right behind her! Acacia turned around to try and find him, but he wasn't there. What she did see was a bird, which had a pair of her underwear perched jauntily on its head. Confused, she cocked her head to one side at it, and narrowed her eyes. A slip of white cotton and pink lace, one of her favourites. And now a bird was going to take it away and build a nest with it. Acacia laughed, there were so many more important things in life. Like staying alive, and finding the boat.

Sugar'll kill you slower than insulin will. Some girl she'd met at clinic had told her that. The girl had been hospitalised the week before because her sugar levels were out of control; apparenty she'd only been diagnosed a year previously. That was why she knew so much about it, this was a big thing for her. For Acacia it was a way of life, something she didn't even need to think about. The girl (what was her name? Mia or something) asked Acacia how long she'd been diabetic for, and Acacia had shrugged. "Fourteen years," she said after a pause. It hadn't been a hard puzzle to solve, she just had to take her current age and subtract one. She couldn't remember a time she hadn't know, probably thought that all kids had to start being jabbed with needles fourteen times a day once they turned a certain age. She wondered how her parents had explained that one to her.

David had been nice about it, she could remember that much. David kissing the bruises on her stomach better and distracting her by pulling faces. Hugging her when she'd had a hypo and mixing glucose sachets together because she was too small to reach the tap. Being nice, protective.

If David were here, everything would be okay. Tears ran down her face as she thought about her brother, leaving at the airport in his desert sands uniform, a single badge pinned to his breast, a rucksack that drowned him strapped securely onto his back. He laughed and joked with the other guys, a couple of them had leered at her and David had punched them away protectively, laughing as he did so. They knew he was only playing, they knew his sister was well out of bounds. And her Mom had gripped onto her hand, and her Dad had that stoic expression like he was trying not to cry.

And at the last moment, when they were getting on the plane, David had looked around, and for a moment they had all seen him as a seven year old, anxious about a thunderstorm, coming into Mom and Dad's room where a three year old Acacia had already wriggled between them. He had been wearing light blue pajamas with trucks on, and was clutching his toy dinosaur, Henry. When David was gone, Henry usually sat at his place at the table.

She wondered if her parents had put anything of her at the table. For the thousandth time, she hoped to God that her brother was okay.

And then, the bird flew away, her underwear still on it's head. She hoped that the baby birds would enjoy their new home of white cotton and pink lace, it would certainly be more luxurious than twigs and leaf. Smiling, Acacia turned around, and realised that she had been metres from the tree line that demarkated the beach. And there, there they were. Her saviours! There weren't all that many people there, considering how long it had been. Acacia wondered why so many people had stayed away. Were there really so few of them left? There were quite a few of them on that list of people that weren't allowed on the boats.

Thank god I didn't kill Ricky, she thought to herself. There had been moments when she'd been close to pulling the trigger, and she hadn't, and if she had she might have been one of the damned, forced to stay and fight for her life, when actually she was allowed to go home. Home. One's place of residence. I am going to go home.

She thought about her home. It was something she'd always taken for granted, having somewhere to live. Even if it was the small house in Indiana, or Julia's townhouse on Long Island, or the huge detached monstrosity they'd owned ever since they came to Minnesota, every time it had been Home and she'd always lived under the assumption that no matter where she was, she would be able to go back there. And then, this had happened, and she had been forced to accept the fact that maybe she wouldn't.

Stumbling, her pulse raced and her face white. Hands shaking as she walked up to the man with the megaphone, her hands up. She hadn't been on his list, but she didn't know if that list was exhaustive. Her words slurred slightly, but she had no idea what was wrong with her. Hypo, hyper, maybe just tired.

"Hi I'mmacacia. Didn't mean to kill Roman, he was dyingenway. Yougot any ninsulin?"

the world is on my side
i have no reason to run

v4 nostalgia

shiny shiny V5 concepts (now with clickies)
Phoebe Cho - I shall be playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor. Wizard!
Harry Hanley - I've got Hershey's at half price today! Get 'em quick before I have rehearsal!
Lor Van Diepen - I'm gonna make a video later. About running. Does that sum me up enough?
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A Slight Change of Plans · The Beach: East