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Make Your Own Kind of Music
Topic Started: Feb 14 2011, 07:01 PM (4,824 Views)
Little Boy
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STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
"I'm sorry."

Pathetic. But what else could be said.

He didn't know why he'd done it anymore. It had been stupid. It hadn't solved anything. It had been STUPID. The cut was still there, visible underneath his light blond hair. He couldn't have hidden it, no matter what he'd told himself in those first few minutes. Roland had hauled him halfway across the island like that.

Roland knew he wasn't okay. And that was what hurt most of all. Dutchy would have never done that in Minnesota. He was terrified of blood. Terrified of injury, pain and suffering. Danya had already beaten him.

Dutchy wanted to stall. He wanted to tell Roland to lie when they found the others- IF they found the others. But he wouldn't. Roland cared about him.

And that was the only reason he was still...

He shouldn't care about me.

Dutchy couldn't forget the infirmary. The announcement had woken him up, just like all the one's past. He heard the name. He'd lain in silence, his head pounding with grief. He didn't know if he wanted to cry anymore, if he could even manage to cry. It seemed pointless. No one would care if he wept or not. Crying was in itself becoming a hollow act, a ritual devoid of meaning. He hated himself for even thinking like that. He'd only moved when Roland began to tear the room apart.

The first few minutes of the attack had been terrifying. Roland was violent, a monster from Dutchy's darkest nightmares, a warped imitation of his friend, fueled by his hatred, destroying anything he could get his hands on. Chairs broke, glass smashed. Roland's shouts pierced through Dutchy, hurting him more so then he'd ever hurt in his life. It wasn't bloodlust, it was pain. He screamed until Dutchy was sure his friends throat was bleeding. Roland had been broken, and there was no way for Dutchy to stitch him back up, not with all the love or medicine in the world. Roland had died, just as he had died. Dutchy had nearly puked in fear. He couldn't be exactly sure when his friend had calmed down enough to notice his presence. Dutchy saw the regret in his eyes and instantly felt more shame. Roland still had responsibility. He still had to keep it together, he still had to smile and pretend it was all okay, a feat Dutchy could never again hope to replicate.

If I wasn't here, he could have found her in time.

Dutchy was sick all over his shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He was as cold as ice the next day, shaking as he shouldered his pack and followed Roland out of the infirmary. He'd changed his t-shirt, but it counted for little. The idea had stuck in his mind, taking root until it was the only thing he could think about. That, and his friends rage. He wasn't scared of retaliation. He was scared of the reality of it. There were kids in the dark, committing far greater atrocities then Roland would ever be able to manage. He wasn't just going to die, he was going to die horribly.

Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's what I deserve. I gave up. Roland could've found her if I wasn't on that beach, if I'd woken up somewhere else. They could've found someone useful there- someone who'd escape. Instead there was me. What am I good for. I've just ruined everything.

The walk had been mostly quiet. Neither of the two had been in the mood for talking. Dutchy didn't know what to say, if anything, about Roland's sister. He wasn't sure if there was a God. He'd like to believe it, he'd been told there was one. But there was so much suffering he doubted it could be true. It didn't matter if he believed or not. Danya's island didn't have a God.

"Dutchy, please say something."

He looked up at his friend, struggling hard to keep from shaking. He had no idea what was going through Roland's head. What did he feel? Sorrow? Anger? Pity? Guilt?

He doesn't deserve this.

Dutchy opened his mouth, struggling to form words. It had been so long since he'd talked out loud it felt as he were forgetting bit by bit. He hesitated, unsure of what exactly he should say.

"I'm sorry Roland. I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- back at the house. I'm sorry for that. And just-" He paused, looking around, nervous and fidgeting. He needed to say it. It'd been on his mind long enough. God forgive him. Better yet, let Roland forgive him.

"Roland I..."

Töluđ orđ verđa ekki aftur tekin

"I- I..."

Töluđ orđ verđa ekki aftur tekin

"Roland I, I think. If- If we can't- if they don't come for us - I don't want you worrying about me I- I think you should-"

Töluđ orđ verđa ekki aftur tekin

What was he doing? What was he saying? Tears seemed to permanently stain his face, no matter how often he'd wipe them off. They flowed freely again as he choked on his words, barely believing himself and what he was suggesting. This wasn't him. He wanted out. He didn't want to linger and remind Bayview of what they'd lost.

Best to be prepared.

"I'd like it to be you if- if it comes to... that."
V5
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
Spoiler: click to toggle

Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
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Little Boy
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STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Dutchy could only nod weakly at Roland's answer. The sheer nature of his request seemed to have struck the bigger boy, and although he vowed he wouldn't let it come to that, Dutchy wasn't naive anymore. Death was inevitable. Maybe Roland would make it, but he didn't stand a chance.

He didn't want a chance.

I'm going to die. I'm already dead.

"Okay." He managed to whisper, so soft it was barely intelligible amidst the various other sounds of the forest. Dutchy stared down at his shoes thinking of home, thinking of his parents and his room and his comics and the chants of his favorite soccer team coming from the speakers, thinking about collage and trips to a far off island...

I don't want to wait until the end. I want it back now. It's not greedy. I'm not asking for much. I just want to... to... go... with that in my mind. While my mind is still clear, while I can still remember what I was like.I need to go now before something else happens. Before Roland does something, hurts himself for me. I couldn't- no, no, not that. He can't get hurt. He's been so kind. I've been so terrible, I've been a horrible person and he's been so nice, and it's already cost him so much...

Roland doesn't get it. I... I have to go now, want to, don't I? And I need him to help me...



"Roland I... I want it to be like th-"

And suddenly, Roland began to yell, dropping his harpoon to the ground. Dutchy nearly jumped out of his skin, before realizing he was shouting towards a girl, standing in the foliage nearby, two in actuality. Dutchy did a quick nervous shamble, his arms bunched up against his chest as if he were desperately holding his guts in. As pathetic as it was, he kept behind Roland, his heart pounding. He didn't know who they were all that well. Bounce, he'd heard of her, but hadn't had an opportunity to meet her. The girl she was with was a complete unknown.

Are they... Are they going to hurt us?

Dutchy hated the thought, but he knew it was a possibility. He'd met precious few students outside of his core group, some boys back at the house, although his memories of the encounter were foggy.

Stupid Dutchy. You're so stupid!

He had no idea who had been doing the killing for the most part, aside from a few of the major players. The dead had taken up much of his time. Now, the fear was building once again. Dutchy struggled to suppress shakes as the two girls took notice of them. It would be up to Roland to handle them, he was in no state to talk to anyone. More guilt leaked into his mind and Dutchy found himself unable to look at the girls, staring embarrassed towards the ground, face red, on the verge of tears.

Why am I still here...?
V5
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
Spoiler: click to toggle

Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Little Boy
Member Avatar
STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Dutchy stood behind Roland, rubbing his hands together, trying to keep calm. The casual way Roland had dropped his guard was encouraging, but Dutchy wasn't stupid. He knew the dangers of the Island were all too real, even if he hadn't witnessed all that much personally. The girls in front of him hadn't had the luck of holding up in a building for the better part of the competition. They'd seen bodies, they'd seen blood and atrocities far worse then anything he could comprehend. Dutchy kept his head hung low, avoiding their gaze, trying not to panic.

What if they aren't so friendly? What if they've got weapons?

As terrible as the notion was, Dutchy couldn't dismiss it. Half of his classmates were dead, and that wasn't all due to freak accidents. It was a bitter truth to face, terrifying, contradicting everything he'd ever known about Bayview. But some of his clasmates were no longer friends. They were predators. Monsters.

"Roland..." Dutchy began, his voice fading away.

Stupid Dutchy. Roland knows what he's doing. Don't get in his way, any more then you already are-

And then, something struck him.

At first, Dutchy was sure it was a person. Someone who he hadn't seen, jumping from a bush to knock him to the ground. He let out a scared yelp of pain, stumbling a moment before collapsing in a heap. His leg was suddenly throbbing, the tell tale sign of an injury. He looked down, a large rock say in the grass near him.

Someone hit me.

Dutchy’s eyes went wide with fear. With shaky hands he reached towards his knee, clutching it, as if it could stop the pain. He tried to control his breathing. No good.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic, you can’t panic.

It was too late. His knee was skinned, but that was enough. Dutchy hadn’t suffered an injury in years, at least, not from another person. It seemed like an eternity since he’d had a problem with anyone. The sheer casual nature of the attack confirmed all his worst fears in a heartbeat. This was not the place for him. He was going to die, very soon, and more then likely not on his own terms.

His mind flashed back, his life before the Island. So far away, a hospital bed, his Uncle, bandaged and burned, a shell of his former self, vomit, burning in his throat.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic, don’t panic…

But he couldn’t stop. Roland was talking, looking at him with concern. Dutchy brought his head up, wide terrified eyes scanning the forest. The girls in front of them. Roland. There was more. Was it a trap? Were they dead? He couldn’t breath. It was all too much. He’d never hurt anyone, and yet this was his reward.

I’m sorry!

He didn’t know who he was shouting too. His attacker? God? Danya? Did it really matter in the end? There would be no forgiveness. Dutchy had done something terrible, what it was he couldn’t say. Was it his wish? What was wrong with dying on his own terms?

“ ‘snot fair.” He sobbed, struggling to breath. “It’s not fair, I didn’t- I didn’t mean- I-“

His breathing grew faster, louder. He couldn’t control himself. His mind was in a blind panic. He’d been struck with a rock. Why? Just for existing. He was going to die, very soon. He hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t prepared.

“It’s not fair!” He sobbed again, his words degenerating into loud panicky gasps, as if he were struggling to take in air. He began to crawl through the grass, separating himself from Roland, the rock, everything, his cries of fear growing louder, stretching out longer, encompassing everything around him. He wasn’t thinking. Dutchy had entered a full blown panic mode and try as he may; tears were already streaming down his face. He wobbled to his feet, scrunching up against a tree trunk, terrified of the world.

If I wasn’t here, we wouldn’t be going through this! If I wasn’t here- I- I shouldn’t be here! I should be dead already, I should have died first, I would’ve still been me, I wouldn’t- I’m sorry, I’m sorry Roland!

Roland had the rock now; he was holding it up, looking at the group standing before them. Dutchy didn’t know who had hit him. He wasn’t quite sure it mattered all that much. Roland was getting annoyed, taking personal offence. Things were rushing out of control, and it was all his fault. Dutchy had heard of Survival of the Fittest. He knew what would come next. It was too horrifying to contemplate.

Need to get out. I need to get out!
V5
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
Spoiler: click to toggle

Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Little Boy
Member Avatar
STICK IT IN ZEE BOOOOOOOT~~~~
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
((Jumping post order to move Dutchy outta here))

Dutchy couldn't breathe. People were coming out of the woodwork, girls and boys, some armed, some not. His eyes darted around, his lip trembling. He hadn't expected this. So much time alone, with Roland, marching in silence. And now? Now they were everywhere. His mind was racing. Someone had hit him. One of them was trying to kill him, trying to harm him... Roland was yelling, the rock still in his hands. Things were disintegrating before his eyes and he knew the end result.

Kimmy, bleeding out on the beach. Roland, bleeding out on the beach. His heart beat faster. He couldn't handle this.

Get out. Get out!

He couldn't stop shaking. His uncertainty was at an all time high. Who had it been? He barely knew these people. Faces in a crowd, now suddenly reaching out to strangle him. Unreal, the worst nightmare he could ever imagine. His collar was tight around his neck, and he knew it would never be removed. It would all end in tears, end with Roland....

Get out!

He was practically screaming it to himself, but he didn't dare to move. His guts were churning, and a seething feeling of regret and self-loathing built up inside him. Selfish. So very selfish. Roland would look for him, if they managed to...

He won't. He won't, he shouldn't, and that would be good. Because this is going to- going to end- No! Stay strong Dutchy, stay-

There was a sound, movement behind him. His thoughts flew away, his survival instincts kicking in. Dutchy spun, jumping in the air, letting out a frightened scream. The girl leaped from the bushes, running towards him at a breakneck pace. His eyes bulged in horror, no doubt in his mind what was about to transpire. His feet began to move and he was off, sprinting, his pack and Roland left behind.

He was crying again, his tears flying along behind him. It didn't matter. All that mattered now was his feet, and how fast they could carry him away. Away from death, away from the island, away from Roland and two hundred dead school kids. Away from what he was becoming, toward his home, so far in the distance...

I'm sorry! Oh God- Roland- I'm sorry!

He couldn't look. It was all pitch-black.

(Dutchy continues in Streita[/url))
Edited by Little Boy, Mar 29 2011, 10:44 PM.
V5
Posted Image Posted Image
Oswaldo Marx --> "Chicks dig scars? Yeah, I'm calling bullshit." --> Cicada Nights
Mikko "Mike" Korhonen --> "Interesting, very interesting!" --> A Casual Question
V4 / Mini's
Spoiler: click to toggle

Quote:
 
"My dick did the Mexican Hat Dance and I had to suppress the moan that wanted to escape." - Casey


NOTE TO SELF: Burns on the left side. LEFT SIDE.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
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