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Carpe Noctum; Day 3
Topic Started: Oct 12 2010, 01:37 AM (4,921 Views)
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
((Leila Langford continued from The Only Way Is up))

A day. A whole fucking day she'd spent with these guys, and now they'd managed to lose themselves in the darkest, wettest place she'd ever stepped foot in. Oh yes, she'd heard the announcement alright - people had died, others were losing their heads already, but did Leila Langford care?

At least Hilary's still okay.

That's what she'd been telling herself every time they stopped for a break, or whenever she found a moment to herself, away from Jason's stupid jokes. As self-centered as she was, as much as she wanted to win, she couldn't help thinking about that girl, all alone out there with the psychos and the murderers around. What was Hilary going to do if she got cornered by a guy who thought he could use these last moments to score himself a screw? Did she even get a good weapon? What if she got something horrible, like a squeaky mallet or a push-up bra? She hated thinking about it, but she knew that out of everyone she considered her "friend", that naive little bimbo would wind up getting slaughtered first.

She stepped on a rock.

"Agh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! My fucking. Foot!"

Oh yeah, and she still hadn't found any shoes. Great idea guys, take a scantily dressed girl deep down into the bowels of the island where she can indulge herself in some quality tear-your-fucking-feet-to-shreds time. Fucking aces.

Jesus, she could barely even see down here. Plus every time she wanted to use her torch she got shouted at for "wasting batteries", which seemed a little bit retarded considering their surroundings. Well screw them, she needed to see how bad her feet had gotten. After all, she'd been walking around for two whole days now without anything to cushion her soles - and her stilettos were way out of the question in this place. Lingering somewhat behind the others, she came to a sudden stop to take off the bag from her back. Her free hand felt around her shoulders; the straps from the daypack had dug right into her bare skin, chafing it and making her red raw.

What was the tally now?

Right, she had fucked-up feet, her make-up was ruined, she was freezing cold, and - not that she'd tell anyone - she was pretty sure all the white bread she'd eaten had made her constipated. Fucking. Aces. A quiet groan escaped her as she rolled her neck around, massaging her rough skin with the palm of her hand in a vain attempt to smooth out the surface of her flesh. Looking up ahead, she watched as Jason found something stuck to the rocky wall. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to her things. Being careful not to stand on any more sharp objects, she crouched down and unzipped her bag, then pulled out the torch the terrorists had oh-so kindly supplied her with. Flicking it on, she winced as the light penetrated her eyes. Stupid bitch, she cursed silently, then hobbled over to the wall.

One hand on the damp surface of the tunnel, she warily lifted her leg in order to see how much damage she'd put her poor feet through. Shit. There was a lot of blood. Some dry, some fresh, but there was a lot of it. It must've accumulated over the course of their journey, but she didn't realize just how fucked she actually was. She was pretty sure she had something sticking out of her toe too - a thorn, maybe, but it didn't hurt as much as the other wounds. A glance back up at the group, who were now beginning to sit down. They must've been waiting for her, she reckoned. Best not hold them up then, it wouldn't be the best plan to get herself abandoned while she had a game to win.

Torch in hand, she grunted as the daypack slipped back into it's painful position, then limped over to the others as quickly as she could without crying out every time her foot gained another cut.

She couldn't wait to get out of this fucking cave.
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
Leila stared at Nathan. Why was he being so helpful all of a sudden? Was he only trying to help her so he could get a glimpse underneath her skirt? Her nose crinkled at the thought, and she went from staring to glaring. What a douche. She watched silently as he dug out the gauze from his bag, then felt the slightest twang of guilt. Only a slight twang, mind you.

"Okay so um...I'm going to need you to put that foot over uh..."

Her eyes followed his for a second, tensing up as he looked for a quiet place to-

"Over here, we'll uh...we'll see what we can do..."


So he really didn't want to perv on her?

She felt a little insulted.

Nevertheless, she sighed, rolled her eyes and followed him over to the flat rock by the wall. Wincing all the while, she eventually sat down and lifted her leg for the boy to examine. He was surprisingly gentle, which relaxed her a little, and although she protested as he started to clean the wound - it stung like a biiitch - she was actually glad someone was taking the time to help her out; even if she didn't want that help to begin with.

Letting him go about his business, she looked over at the huddle of boys in the background. The little chicken-shit, Brook, was apparently about to vomit over the sight of her feet. Yeah? Well fuck you too. As for the other two, they weren't exactly making their feelings about her subtle. Okay, so, she couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but the looks they were both giving her were less than friendly. What, were they pissed because she was slowing them down? It wasn't like she asked for all this attention, fuck. If they wanted to leave her behind, maybe they should just man up and kill her already, do them all a favour.

"For fuck's sake Leila are you really that fucking stupid? When you could of asked anyone for a spare pair of footwear? Here."

Her throat tightened.

"Excuse me?"

A pair of flip-flops flew towards her and made a wet "plop" when they landed just inches away from her seat. They were ugly-looking things, but at the very least, they meant that she wouldn't have to walk around in bare feet any more. Which was a relief, she guessed.

Then a strange voice called out behind them.

"Need some help?"


"I heard someone...hit their foot?"

Genius. This guy right here - fucking genius.

And then of course:

"You heard right but just stop right where you are, and show us what you're carrying before you get any closer."

Ooh, look at Jason go! Big man with the big gun~! She was surprised he didn't chase the guy away with a spear and face paint. Stuck where she was for now, while Nathan slowly set about patching her up, she shook her head and watched on as the kid trembled towards them. He even had his arms raised. Really? He was scared of this Steve Irwin wannabe?

Maybe we'll get lucky and find a sting ray somewhere.

She smirked, then realized the other guy - Maf, or some shit - was pulling the same stunt as the Aussie.

"Hey, Dumb and Retarded, put the fucking guns down before you hurt yourselves."

Her thumb pointed back at the new guy, she continued.

"You really think this fucker's gonna mow us all down? He looks like he hasn't even got a backbone, let alone a weapon."
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God was telling you "not yet".
[ *  *  *  * ]
Leila let out an impatient sigh as Nathan finally finished up with her feet. What was so complicated about it? Something like that would've taken her Mom less than a-


Oh, wow.

She hadn't thought about home for a while.

The others argued amongst themselves for a while, as Nathan wandered back to them in an attempt to calm down the situation, leaving her mind to stew in the memories she had of her family. Her parents worked at the local hospital, where they both met 2 years before they married and had their one and only daughter - the bowl of sunshine that she'd become. Looking back, she knew she'd had it good. Really good, actually. If she compared her life to the average student's, she'd easily come out covered in the smell of middle class snobbery. She even had a nanny when she was younger, which, okay, was her mother's attempt at being a working mother, but still, she had a nanny. Not many people could afford those, could they?

Whenever she felt like this, she'd remind herself that she'd had her fair share of problems too, especially once her mother quit her job to focus on caring for her. It was at this point that Leila started to develop her most unpleasant traits - spending money she didn't have, going out to clubs and bars when she was clearly under age, and the best one of all: how to manipulate people into giving her what she wanted. It didn't matter if they needed the money more than she did, or that the top they were wearing was a birthday present from their grandmother. If she wanted it, she got it. No exceptions.

Then she happened to glance up at the boys, as they bickered on about the do's and don't's of waving guns in people's faces. Specifically, she happened to glance up at one of the boys in particular. He looked so scared, so confused. Obviously, he was the weak link of the gang, the nervous mumbler who stood behind them as they decided whether or not to shoot a guy who hadn't even done anything wrong. See, that's what separated herself from the boys. If she had a gun, she wouldn't even have to use it. If she had a gun, everyone else would drop theirs, because they knew that she wasn't the kind of person to let a situation like this go by without trying to grab a piece of the action.

Leaning forward, she took a good look at the state of her feet, then turned to the pair of flip-flops she'd been so kindly given. She touched the soles of her feet with the tips of her fingers, feeling the sticky blood still oozing slightly beneath the bandages. Pressing just a little too hard, the red seeped through the gauze and pasted itself to her skin. Her eyes stared intently at the blood as she squished it in between her index finger and thumb, before switching over to the image of Brook standing just far away enough from the others for her plan to work.

She stood, wincing as she strapped her feet into the almost-sandals, then walked on over to the boy who was now giving her an intense look of disgust. His pupils contracted, locking on to the patches of red on her hands. He lifted the gun slightly - he was far too nervous to be handling a gun, she thought. With her hand raised in front of her, she reached out for his face, sticking and un-sticking her fingers as the blood began to dry. His hands shook, trembling at the sight of it. He looked like he might use the gun, he looked fevered and mad. She smiled, baring her teeth, then lunged forward, wiping the blood down the side of his face as he shrieked and cried out in hysterics. Now! Using this opportunity to wrestle the gun free of his hand, she pushed him back against the wall, then aimed her gun at the others, who now looked very angry.

Nobody said a word (aside from Brook, who wouldn't shut the fuck up), as she made her way forward, towards the other side of the tunnel. Their guns were aimed right back at her, but she made them move aside. Her gun was pointed at their friend - the one she'd marked. If they tried to get in her way, she'd make sure they'd need a new fourth member. And slowly, terribly, they each put down their guns, not wanting to risk the life of one of their own. If she hadn't seen it herself, she'd have called it fucking typical. Pack mentality was something every guy shared, whether they admitted it or not, and right now it was losing them one of their ever so precious weapons. Diddums.

Eventually, nervously - she could feel her frantic heartbeat pulsing wildly in the wounds of her feet - she made it past the group and on to the other side, her gun trained of every one of them now.

"I know, right? Big shocker everyone, Leila's a backstabbing bitch."

She laughed dryly, shaking her head as though she was disappointed in them for taking her this far.

"But hey, don't blame me. That's the name of the game; survival of the fucking fittest. You know? And yeah, I'm feeling pretty fit right now; really fucking fit. I owe you one, Nath, I really do."

She cocked the trigger gently, giving it a slow, painful squeeze. Her finger twitched as it stuck there for a moment.

"But you heard that guy - the fat fucker on the video. Only one of us gets off this island alive."

She gave them all the sweetest smile, while her tongue balanced delicately on her last few words.

"And that, my boys, is yours truly."

Backing away from the flowerheads, she kept her gun in plain view, for all of them to see, until she turned the very last corner of the longest tunnel in the world.

((Leila Langford continued in Heartbeat Symphony))

-All GM'ing permitted by MK Kilmarnock-
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