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A Delicate Machine
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Harold nodded. Ty's implication was clear enough. You'd have to be a literal corpse to miss the subtext there, really. Okay, that was an unfortunate thought. Harold's been up for a while, but it looked like Ty had woken up in this room. It was obviously morning, but without a watch or his phone that was all Harold could tell.

If people had woken up even earlier than Harold had, could some of his classmates already be dead? Maybe someone feeling particularly opportunistic had stumbled across a sleeping classmate and decided to make the most of it. Maybe they'd wanted to get used to murdering their fellow human beings on a target that wouldn't resist. Harold knew he couldn't waste his worry on hypotheticals, knew he couldn't have done anything even if that had actually happened. It still stung.

"I'm fine. Woke up. Saw a big building. Thought I'd check it out. Here I am." Harold sighed. "Where do we even go from here, man?"
a tribute for the dead and dying

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Thirteen Steps · Group Therapy