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Half a minute had passed since he'd collapsed, and Maynard remained still. It was only now that he was becoming aware of the slight chill that had washed over him. Adjusting his waistcoat, he lightly brushed away the tears that were falling steadily onto the mess he'd made in front of him. He hadn't made a very good start to what was almost certain to be one of his last days.

Mum and dad...what're they...and June and August...they'll hear soon, won't they?

No. He mustn't think of that. He had to keep moving, find some way to shift this thing he'd been left with. He'd heard tales of others abandoning their weapons, casting them aside, but Maynard couldn't. This was maybe the only thing that could possibly protect him, and he wasn't about to just cast it aside for someone else.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, rapidly approaching. He froze, unsure of what to do next. It was a classmate, he was sure, but were they friend or foe? No...it had to be friend. Maynard knew that they wouldn't start killing yet. No...they'd be good - he didn't care who they were. He wanted some sign of hope, that there was a chance that his next movement wouldn't be met by a bullet in the head.

And then...a voice.

"Hey, Maynard...Over here, man."

A boy, a voice that was faintly recognisable. Someone who'd surely help him, in some way or the other. Maynard turned his head to face the newcomer, to welcome them. Somehow.


Adam Morgan, just one of the faces in the crowd. Someone that Maynard held nothing but ambivalence towards. And in such a situation as this, Maynard knew that ambivalence was one of the best things he could possibly hope for. He noted the blade by the other taller boy's side and flinched in terror, before realising that it was not held with malicious intent.

"A-Adam? Hey! I...are, are you okay?"

Maynard stood once more, attempting to keep a firm hold of his balance, and trudged a few steps towards the friendly face, making sure that his kit was a safe distance away. Close enough to get to if something went wrong.

But it wouldn't. It couldn't.

Not yet.
Version Seven:
Tristan O’Hara
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Thread Titles Have Never Been My Forte · Shelson's Beach