"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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MurderWeasel
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Somehow we drifted off too far...
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"I think I can manage that," Kimberly said. Her mental arithmetic was running full blast, trying to figure just what the hell she owed Kris now. Fuck. It wasn't so easy to figure. The whole potential encounter was nebulous in her mind, layers upon waves of fantasy. It wouldn't be easy, she knew that. It'd be a struggle, a biting bloody battle. Kris wanted to live. Nothing else made sense. Kimberly had a few advantages there. She didn't much give a fuck what happened to her after that fight. Well, okay, not entirely true. She really wanted to survive longer than Kris, just out of spite, unless there was some grand opportunity to fuck with the girl even more by dying.

But Erik didn't need to know any of that. He probably didn't give a shit. They all had their own problems.

"And yeah," she said. "It sucked pretty fucking bad. But, hey, anyone left has had a bad time, you know? I figure I'm no worse off than anyone. Except maybe the ones who got away."

She wanted a cigarette. Small annoyances. Instead, she adjusted her position, bringing her right knee to her chest, toying with the laces of her boot. She sighed, glanced up at the sky.

She couldn't help wondering what was going on back in Saint Paul. All the people she'd known probably thought she was nuts. She could practically hear the cries of vindication from her exes. She focused on that. Better to drown out anything her family might be thinking or feeling. She did miss them. Fuck, all this and she'd have dropped it all, would have given everything up just to sit down at her kitchen table, reeking of vodka and smoke, and eat a couple cookies. Pointless shit like that. Not that it'd matter much, not in the long run. You lived with what life threw at you, until one day you didn't.
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Burn On · The Mountain