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Iceblock
Survivor
[ *  * ]
((G053: Melanie Beckett starts))

"Gross."

Any other time, any other situation, Mel probably would have cracked wise. Made a better joke, at least.

Instead, her voice was stretched thin, the amusement in it forced. She could feel a tightening knot in her chest, a red, orange, white-hot pit of anger slowly growing within her.

The terrorists had shown them that film, about how far their old friendships would get them - that was, shot in the back, because Survival of the Fittest would put divisions between all of them and shatter their faith in each other until there was nothing to do but fight and die.

But right now, there was only one division she was willing to accept. Only two groups that existed.

Her class, and the terrorists.

The terrorists wanted them to believe otherwise. They wanted to see a repeat of every single time this had happened before. They wanted to pound their mantra into every one of her classmates' heads until it was part of their thoughts, part of her thoughts, until it was something that even she'd just blindly accept and obey. Friend against friend, kill or be killed.

Fuck that.

For her part, Mel hadn't vomited when she'd woken up a few rooms away, but then again, she'd been trying as hard as she could not to think about what had happened to Mr. Graham. Trying not to remember a life extinguished before her just like that. She'd hauled herself out, pushed open a couple doors, and here she was, half-in the doorway. She hesitated a moment before stepping fully in.

"Hey, Cameron," she said, raising a hand in halfhearted greeting. "Bad time to drop in?"
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