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The mirror broke, and Jasmine watched as her reflection quickly disappeared, the image being replaced by the room behind it.


Okay, wait. She needed to think about this. She could still feel that her fists were clenched and that her hands were shaking, but she needed to think about this. She was here, she was on Survival of the Fittest and according to what the man at the presentation said, if she wanted to get off of this island everyone else here had to die. Could she do that? The answer to that question she knew was no. It was an absolute, and it wasn’t a matter that she couldn’t do it, the thing was that she wouldn’t. There were too many people that she liked and the mere thought of having to end their lives made Jasmine quiver. She knew that there were other people out there. Rea. Maria. Fucking Hazel. She wasn’t sure she could do it to them, either. She’d be a monster if she did. To herself and to everyone watching.

But then the next question appeared within her mind.

Did she want to live?

The answer was a yes. Yes. Absolutely yes. She had her life, she had her family, she had her future to uphold, and if you gave her the option to get out of here right now she would take it, no matter what the cost was. The answer was yes. Jasmine knew that.

She didn’t want to kill anyone, but she wanted to live. And yet both of those contradicted one another, according to the man. That was an issue which she wasn’t really sure what to think about it, which annoyed her. Wait, nevermind, she figured it was okay. Considering the situation she doubted anyone would blame her for not knowing what to do. She looked around. She could still feel the pangs of anger in her brain and arms. She saw the bag she threw in front of her. Slowly, she moved through the broken mirror and took steps towards the bag, grinning as she opened it.

It turned out that her earlier statement wasn’t quite as a contradiction as she thought it would.

First aid kit. Food. Water. Compass. Map. Yes, yes, yes. She had everything that she needed to survive, at least for a couple days. She didn’t need to kill. All she needed to do was to not die and there was a chance that she could get back home. Yes. She sifted through her bag, and eventually found her weapon, as well. Knuckles, they seemed. She would have preferred a blade or a gun, but she likely wouldn’t have stomached the will to use them, anyway. This was good enough for her. Easily.

She didn’t hear anything from the other rooms as she sifted through her bag.
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The Strange Case of Nadia · One-on-one Therapy