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But I Might Die Tonight; Open, Early Evening Day 4
Topic Started: Nov 23 2010, 02:27 AM (4,023 Views)
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[[Sierra Manning continued from It's hard to walk tall when you're small]]

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

Unheard words that danced on her lips, a recurring confession her larynx didn’t dare repeat. It’d be true. If she could hear it, it’d be true and he’d be gone. She’d be too late and he’d be gone and she’d never see him again, never hold his hand again, never hug him again, never kiss him again, never talk to him again.

He was gone.

He was gone and she never even got to say good-bye, or tell him how much she loved him. No last words, no warning, no closure. Just gone. Just another name on a list, a name done in by an ‘act of justice’. A besmirched name. The name of a killer.

But he was so much more than that, so much more than people gave him credit for. He was so sweet, sweeter then he liked to admit. ‘Guys aren’t supposed to be ‘sweet’’ he’d say, but she’d tell him that was her favorite thing about him, he’d laugh it off but she knew how much it meant to him. He knew he always had her in his corner, she’d always have his back and she knew that meant the world to him. Or at least that’s what he thought.

What killed her most was knowing that she had doubted him, thought him to be the killer the announcements claimed he was. Immediately she doubted him, taking the first chance she had to think the worst. She didn’t know if it was an accident or what, but she should’ve believed in him. Maybe if she had, things would’ve ended differently.

Anything could have happened.

“I’m tho—“ She choked on her words, desperate sobs colliding against her fever-enhanced gag reflex leading way to a series of dry heaves. She buried her head into her knees, the warmth of her face breaking through even the thick denim of her jeans. The throbbing in her head was welcomed, she relished it, let it take over for pain that had latched around her heart.

Take anything, whatever you want, but please God give her back her Omar.

She emptied the recesses of her mind, trying desperately to cling to her memories. How did his laugh sound? His voice? How did he smell, feel? It was as if her brain had been wiped clean, barely able to remember the things about him that made her love him. Taken from her, just ripped from her. Why couldn’t she remember? More than anything, she wanted to remember him, but everything was gone.

Her nails burrowed into the bare flesh on her ankles, sparks of pain running up her back. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her, wished that she’d jumped back then, wished that people who wanted to live could take her spot, but why would God make it easy now?

Part of her wondered if this was her punishment. If her penalty for her over-dependence was the loss of everything she loved.

The other part reprimanded her. She was just a selfish, whiny brat. Other kids were losing their lives, kids who would’ve done something with their lives. Why couldn’t she just deal with it, be glad that she was alive?

Why couldn’t she be better?

Noxious cigarette odor etched into her nostrils, a pied piper luring her out from the depth of her shell. She hadn’t even realized Josie had left, didn’t realize the warmth had left.


She was glad. Josie would be better off without her, she’d be able to get off the island if she didn’t have to drag along dead weight.


Ignore her, don’t come back. Stop being scared, Sierra, stop expecting people to carry you through life.
You’re a waste of space.
Just die already.

“Jothie, wh-where are you!?”

She hated herself.
Edited by Mimi, Nov 30 2010, 10:13 PM.

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(Jo doesn’t have the time to handle Sierra anymore and I’m itching to get back into v4, so I’ll be handling Sierra once again. Thanks for taking care of her, Jo<3)

Is survivor’s guilt a real thing? Y’know how when there’s one of those big plane crashes or pile-ups on the highway and only a few people survive, the survivor’s are always talking about how ‘they should have died’ rather than the other people?

Or is that all a hoax—something society uses to explain suicidal tendencies?

Sierra’s chest felt as if it were closing in on itself as Josie ran down the list of potential destinations, houses or buildings that they could hide in and ride out the storm. Their own little Eden-- a place where nobody would hurt them, where nobody would tear them apart. They were supposed to find Eden with Omar, they could’ve locked the rest of the world outside and be happy, but now what?

It felt wrong.

Part of her wished they had jumped on the first day, if only she knew what she knew now. It didn’t matter, anyway. She was a coward. She was a coward now and she was a coward on Day One, she doubted highly that she’d have the courage to jump even with visions of the future.

Omar would want her to live, she knew that much. Wanting it was just the hard part.

“Yeah…” Sierra nodded, her voice still raspy from the extended period of silence. Everywhere would suck, but nothing would suck more than staying rooted in one place. Omar was out there somewhere, or what was left of him. It would hurt to see him the way he was, possible in chunks ground up on the ground, but it’d hurt worse knowing she didn’t see him one last time. He probably wanted to see her too. She could put him to rest, yeah?

A wary look spread over Sierra’s face when Josie mentioned bringing Max along. “Okay, if you think that’th what we thhould do.” Sierra’s eyes lingered on Josie’s retreating form, her arms crossed tightly against her chest in a futile effort to fend off the chill left behind by the night breeze. While she didn’t want to admit it to herself, Sierra was actually somewhat relieved. She hated that Josie had to take care of her, be the strong one for both of them. Maybe with someone else around, she could relax a little. Past the embittered opinions of herself, Sierra managed to feel a sense of pride watching Josie reach out to people and count on someone. She didn’t have to be strong all the time, y’know. Max was nice, too. Tender, almost familiarly so.

And Sierra felt much more comfortable dying knowing Josie would have someone like that.

For the first time in a long while, a small smile spread across Sierra’s face as Josie began talking to the two boys. No matter how futile it was to make friends in the situation, they were still people. People with feelings and stories that needed to be told, people who didn’t deserve to die. She knew it’d be hard to say goodbye to them when the time came, but maybe it’d be worth it.

Maybe she didn’t need to be strong or brave or any of that. Maybe she could just be her? Old ‘fraidy pants cry-baby ‘Thierra Manning with an Eth’ who talked to people just because everyone needs someone to talk to? Strength comes in a lot of different shapes, right? No matter how resigned she was that she’d die, maybe her being her could give someone else the strength to live? She could only hope that someone could have the life that she didn’t want, that someone could go home and live for her.

Distantly, a scraping sound bounced through the area, cause the small girls’ heart to dip into her stomach. She looked toward Josie, who was facing a figure not too far away. Her shaking hand darted into her jacket pocket and took tight hold of the tube inside. Of course something went wrong.

Something always goes wrong.

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Sierra prayed the Earth would open up and swallow her, prayed a tsunami would rise and wash her right off the mountain—anything that’d get her away from the current situation. Even through the veil of night, the boy’s expression pierced through her, making no secret of the frustration he was feeling. Beyond the agitation, she could tell he was hurting, with good reason. She would be, too. Guilt washed over her as she watched him retreat, averting her eyes to the ground in an attempt to squelch the feelings.

It scared her knowing how much the Island changed people, herself included. She felt like all she’d done while she’d been there was turn her back on people, cast them aside as if they were just body bags. Between Janet, Steven, and even Josie, it honestly made her a little sick. She wasn’t like that before, right? People weren’t just walking corpses to her in real life, they were stories and personalities that she loved the be around, meeting new people was always something she relished—it always amazed her how different every person was, so why was it so different now?

If anything, now was the time to truly relish the friendships she made, right? Make the most of the time she had left. The gaping hole in her heart that Omar left in his wake was just as present as it had been the day before, but she felt like she was… accepting it? Maybe not so much. Maybe dealing with it, trying to overcome it. Accepting it wasn’t really an option. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever met Julian Avery, but she’d make sure he’d know Omar, know him as she knew him; the gentle soul who’d drop everything if she needed him. The boy she loved unconditionally.

Absently, Sierra began stroking the ends of Skanky Blanky, who remained wrapped around her neck from a few days prior, as the rest of the group began packing up to leave the area. She smiled quickly at David, whose eyes she met almost immediately as he made his way toward her. She couldn’t help but muse over how gentle his smile was and how much it reminded her of Omar, almost jarringly so. What really caught her off guard, however, was when he took off his jacket and offered it to her. For a moment, all she could do was stare at it, completely shocked that someone would be so nice to her in the setting.

“Are you thure?” She asked nervously, her eyes darting up to meet his. Once getting the affirmative, she cautiously took the jacket and thanked him before putting it on. It was much bigger on her than it was on him, obviously not made for a girl barely scraping five-foot-two as it came down to her mid thigh. She quickly flashed one last smile at David before he walked ahead to meet up with Max, leaving her some feet behind with Josie.

Josie, predictably, picked up Sierra’s bag as well as her own, sending another shock of guilt through Sierra’s chest.

“You’re tired to, though, Joze. I think we all are,”

She said softly, still stroking the ends of her blanket. Her only response was a small smile and the shake of her best friend’s head. It wasn’t much use to argue with Josie, she was an ox when she wanted to be. Instead, Sierra followed close after her friend, briefly wondering about her family as they marched off. She wondered how Bubba and Ronald were doing, she had no doubts they were still together—Bubba knew how to keep her men, of course. She knew her Mom was worried sick about her, she probably wasn’t eating much or anything, Mom had a tendency to skip meals when she was stressed. But, she was okay, things could’ve been much worse, right? At least she had a group now.

Sierra smiled and waved to a nearby camera; her own little message to the people waiting at home for her.

She wouldn’t be coming back, but they shouldn’t have to worry.

Just stay strong, ok?

[[ Sierra Manning continued elsewhere ]]
Edited by Mimi, Feb 20 2011, 01:47 AM.

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