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Peripeteia; All hope is lost
Topic Started: Mar 10 2011, 12:34 AM (3,683 Views)
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Although Steven Hunt would never know, his parents, and most members of his extended family (including the uncle who had supposedly disowned him when he discovered that his nephew was gay) had been literally glued to the television from the first moment that he had woke up in the island.

Actually, the Huntīs living room had never been so crowded in many time, with all that cousins, uncles and aunts struggling to take a seat and monitor Stevenīs progress the best way they could. Actually, the most recurrent emotion that the relatives of that lanky, scrawny boy who was homosexual and loved theatre, could experience right now, was pride. Steven had not killed anyone on his time on the island. He was not a murderer, not like the rest of the kids who had been thrown into that shithole of an island. He was not a hero, neither. But he was a survivor. And that was enough for his family.

However, one of his cousins, Darren, a big fan of SOTF, knew that Steven had to kill at least one person to get out of the island. He had seen the first televised version of SOTF (dubbed now "V0" by most of the media), and he knew that the winner (some kid that went by the name "Sydney Morvran" or something like that...) had been thrown again into the next game as punishment for not killing anyone. However, there was no way Steven could know that...

His cousin Jacob was probably the one who was mostly thinking of Steven right now. He could remember their last conversation. He had called the boy a queer, a faggot... he had treated his homosexuality as a joke, as a sickness. It had been just a couple of weeks after his sexuality had been revealed to them by his mother. Jacob couldnīt help but grimace at the memory. If he only had known...

((Steven Hunt continued from In Theory, This Should be Easy))

Steven Hunt was walking through darkness, barely seeing where he was going. It had been a really stupid idea to get into the tunnels. When he had been sure that he was out of the range of the Danger Zone, he had sat for a brief couple of moments to catch his breath on the beach, and then, while he was resting, he had seen the cave entrance that was signalled on the map. Actually, Steven thought, that was a really good place for hiding. He thought that getting lost inside the entrails of the island and starve to death was not a fate he was entirely comfortable with, but, well, he might risk it. The tunnels were perfect for hiding. Inside there, he could think quietly of a plan.

The experience at the Docks had left him truly shaken, in reality. He only had wanted to form a group and then... the only reaction he got from the other boy and the girls had been them laughing him off; one of them taking him hostage and then threatening to kill him, and then the other one had just insulted him when he offered her some help. He was beginning to think that he had it coming for having been so naive. Will had been right. He shouldnt have given his knife to Kimberly... he shouldnīt have trusted her, at all. He should have turned away and run the first moment he saw her. Now Aislyn was dead and it was his fault. And now Kimberly was going to die, too, probably by Feliciaīs hand... and it was his fault, too. If he hadnīt been so fixated in revenge...

His flashlight actually couldnīt allow him to see more than six or seven feet in front of him. The only sound that filled his ears was his footsteps, that sounded ominously frightening among the tunnel walls.

He heard something in the distance, a few yards in front of him, and he instantly tensed up, cricket bat ready in hand. It sounded like a heavy breathing, like some who was scared, or shocked.

Then he say a light flickering on, wildy sprawling around, as if the person who was holding it was break-dancing in circles. Until the ray of light found something of interest.

He knew it would be a good idea to run away right now...

Antonio Russo.

Or, better said, what had been Antonio Russo... he was sprawled on the ground. Apparently he had been dead for a few days. From the distance, Steven could see the maggots crawling in his skin, the blood dried that was sticking to the earth. Daniel hadnīt been like that when Steven had handled him, and Steven quite thanked God for that.

He began to tremble, unnerved for what he saw. The person that was near Antonioīs body was panting heavily, like he or she had just stumbled upon the body and were recovering from the scare. He decided not to make a sound. He was not gonna make his presence known. For all that he could know, the person in the shadows was probably the one who had killed Russo...

Or no, probably... he has been dead for days, I donīt think that a player would remain here if he had killed him. Unless they are planning on eating him...

The though almost made himself soil his pants with fear... if there was something he didnīt want to happen to him in this bloody island, was getting eaten by one of his classmates.

He simply waited, weapon ready in hand, to see if the other person made a sound, said something...

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The bullet came into his thigh, ravaging and slaughtering away the flesh on his leg. It passes through it, severing his femoral artery, before exiting his body through a hole made the same way that the one it used to enter his organism.

Well, at least now I know how it feels like

It was the first words that crossed his mind as blood started to gush out of the wound on his leg. Steven collapsed almost instantly, his back laying against the rocky wall of the tunnel. Steven wanted to touch his wound, to make sure he was okay. He was no doctor, but a shot in the leg wasnīt a serious thing now, was it? Well, it would probably halt his progress through the island, make him an easy prey for the players, but with a little bit of comfort and rest, surely everything would be better...

There was no way he knew, but in ten minutes he was going to bleed to death, and there wasnīt anything that he could do about it.

He touched the wound the bullet had made when entering his leg, and instantly let out a groan of pure, raw pain. It was worse than he thought. Worse enough, blood didnīt stop of gushing out. It was almost like a fountain. It was already covering his pants, his shoes, his bag, his cricket bat, and the ground. He was lying in a pool of his own blood.

He let the bat aside. He actually didnīt care if the guy who had shot him took it, he already had a gun, what the fuck was he going to do with a cricket bat? He tried to think of a plan. He had to stop the bleeding. He remembered Aislyn. Bitch had been right, actually, now he didnīt think he should have been able to help her at all. He was not even able to help himself.

In the distance, then he saw him...

Brendan Wallace... fuck, I didnīt know he had it on him He actually shuddered at the sound of his own words. He didnīt want his own death to be a damned replay of Aislynīs. No, he was going to survive. He was going to stop the bleeding. He was going to get help. He was going to find Polanski and then get the hell out of here. He was going to beat the fat bastard Danya was. He was going to...

Brendanīs face seemed contorted in horror at what had happened. Had it been an accident? Maybe he was just scared. A scared kid. Like everyone else on this blasted shithole. It had not been his fault. Maybe he had thought that there was someone after him. Everyone gets a little bit paranoid sometimes.

He was with Polanski. Steven was sure that he had to be with her. He was aware that Polanski had surrounded herself with a group of other people. She had to, after all there were people out there trying to kill her to get their hands on a new prize or just remove her of the competition. Maybe if he asked him, he would take him to Liz. Maybe he could be saved...

But in any way, the kid had shot him. That was clear as crystal water. Maybe sweet little Brendan had decided to play, actually. Maybe Steven was just the first one on his list of fatalities. Maybe...

Oh, just fuck it. It never kills to ask him...

"Eh,Brendan!" he called out, his voice fading out in the darkness of the tunnel "Are you with Liz...? Where the hell is she? Is she allright?"

Meredith Hunt had her head buried deep on her husbandīs shoulders, not wanting to see the horrible fate that awaited their child. Eric Hunt, however, stared at the TV screen, speechless at all. The entire living room had gone silent, nobody was talking at all. All of them were looking dumbfoldy at the TV set, not wanting to believe that what was happening was real.

Jacob Hunt approached the TV carefully, wanting to see it more closely. It just couldnīt be true. No. His cousin was not wounded. His cousin was not dying. No. His cousing was getting well. His cousin was going to stand up. Steven was going to get well, he was going to get out of the island, he was going to get back home. And then Jacob could hug him and tell him he was sorry for all the shit they had put him through.

But no... Jacob turned around, and looked at the rest of the family, gathered there, watching silently the television. They all knew. Jacob himself knew. Even Meredith and Eric knew.

There was no way Steven Hunt was coming home

Edited by Nadir, Mar 13 2011, 05:28 PM.
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Steven had guessed correctly when he supposed the boy was associated with Polanski. It had been an educated guess, something that had clicked on his mind. Too bad he was not going to end up meeting the islandīs resident revolutionary leader, he would have liked to cheer her on. Oh, whatever...

Brendan was apologizing, profusely. That wasnīt gonna heal his leg in any way, but at least it was good to know that the boy was sorry and that everything had been an accident.

I-I-I-I-I'm sorry, I-I di-didn't mean to, I-I-I thou-though you were w-

Steven looked at the boyīs face, it was full of shock and regret. He actually pitied the poor guy. He didnīt know him at all in school (well, basically, he didnīt know anyone that well on his grade...). He made himself the promise that if, somehow, he got out of the shit he was in, he would dedicate every remaining second on his life to try and develop some social skills. Actually, talking to people wouldnīt be that bad at all.

"Itīs alright, Brendan..." Steven said, his voice sounding strangely calm despite the fact he had lost an incredible amount of blood at all. "Itīs alright, you didnīt mean it, you just said it... accidents happens, sometimes..."

Then Brendan told him he didnīt know where Liz was. Oh, damn it! He was so close to find her... he would have liked to just shake her hand. She probably was dead by now... the only person who had managed to beat this bloody game without killing anyone and then she had just managed to get herself killed. It wasnīt fair. Not for him, not for her, and certainly not for Brendan.

And then Brendan had started to shout for help. If Steven hadnīt been so weak himself, he would have chided the boy for his naivette. Didnīt he know that it was better to abandon him? With him, Brendan was in danger. Anyone else could come across and finish them off just with a single breath. Things happened so fast in that island. Specially when you were dying...

Fuck, his vision was getting progresively cloudy and hazy. He could barely hear the footsteps of Peter as the new arrival inmediately crouched down to examine his wound. Where the hell did the other boy come from...?

He was telling him to talk, about back home, about the island, about whatever, while he tended to his wounds. Well, Steven could do that just fine. It was actually the only thing he could do.

"Well... there is not much to tell, actually. I spent this last six days on this bloody hole running around trying to avoid everyone... and just a few hours ago I happened upon a very nice group of people..." he wondered if the other boys could notice the sarcams on his voice "I bet you havenīt met Miss Kimberly Nguyen, have you? She is a real lady, for what I can tell... I told her I was gonna give her my weapons if she let me stay with her. And then when I gave her Ericīs knife, the bitch just takes me hostage and ends up stabbing Aislyn... and then Will makes it all better by threatening to shoot me out of the docks... really nice people, actually..."

He groaned a brief moment when Peter adjusted the bandage, feeling a sting of pain, although actually less than he would have imagined. He gave Peter a brief look, and then smiled, a weak, fading smile, everything that he could muster for.

"Thanks, Peter... I think Im feeling better... a little bit better", he said, his head falling to his side. He was actually feeling better than he had felt on his whole life. He couldnīt know that dying was so peaceful...

With the last of his strenght, he turned to look and Brendan, and then, he did something that neither he nor the other boy expected at all. He grabbed Brendanīs hand and held him while his vision got progressively misty every second.

"Itīs alright, Brendan...", he said, his voice getting lower and lower "Everythingīs alright..."

He closed his eyes, for just a couple of seconds. And when he opened them back, he was not at the cave.

He was lying in a wooden floor. He quicly got up and looked around him. How the hell had he got there? How the hell had he escaped the cave? Had it all been a dream? How the hell he could walk? He looked at his leg. No trace of the gunshot wound, no blood, no shrapnel, no hole. Actually, his pants were cleaner than they had been the whole last week, his whole set of clothes was, it was just like he had never stepped his foot on the island. But... where was he now? He heard a couple of whispers behind him, and then turned around, nervously, praying that it wasnīt another threat coming back to bite him in the ass.

And then he just stared at what he saw, completely amazed.

He was on the stage of a theater, the biggest theatre Steven could have ever seen. The lights were flooding the wooden planks that were the floor of the stage, all centered on him, like he was the star of some sort of play that just had come into scene. There were people, sitting at the theatre. Dozens of them, actually. He could recognize some of them. He saw his grandfather waving at him, a proud smile on the old manīs face. And then he saw his classmates. Eric Lorenz and Alex Rasputin, sitting side by side, applauding him, both of them with bright smiles on their faces, as if nothing amiss had ever happened between them. And then he saw Brock, winking at him and giving him a thumbs-up, the worried look that he had seen in his face on their first day of the island gone a long time ago. He saw Aislyn, who was standing up while cheering him on, and blew her a kiss. She answered by blowing him one back. He snickered at it. She seemed at peace, like there was no a care in the world. He saw Lillian, and Will, and the girl he had seen at the river (Janet, he remembered, the name thundering like a storm on his mind, her name was Janet). He saw Daniel, Tony... everyone was there. Everyone was cheering him on, smiling, proud of him.

He felt he could do nothing more than oblige them. He just bowed to them and then stood back up.

"Goodnight, folks..."

B033.Steven Hunt-Deceased

In another part of the world, Jacob Hunt felt the tears forming in his eyes as he saw his cousin drew his last breath on television. With every inch of his soul being torn apart on that moment by some invisible demons, he turned to look at the rest of the Hunt clan, congregated on the living room, who had suddenly come silent. His aunt Meredith was crying unconsolably over his husband shoulder. Eric, on the other hand, was staring wide-eyed at the TV screen, as if he couldnīt believe that his son had just being shot and then bled to death, all in ten minutes. No, it couldnīt be true. No, it couldnīt happen. This just had to be some sort of sick joke. Everything had to be some sort of sick joke.

But Jacob knew better. His cousin was dead. He was not getting back home. And as painful as it was, he was begginning to accept it. He looked around the room, trying to find the one person who he knew would be feeling most pain at having seen Steven die, apart from his parents and himself. His eyes began to scan the room until spotting him. His father. Stevenīs uncle. Charles. The main reason he and his cousin had stopped talking to each other, because the guy feared the teenager would be a bad influence on his son.

Jacob slowly made his way to the couch his father was sitting on, his eyes still fixed on the screen. Jacob was shocked, to say the least, when he saw tears forming in his fatherīs eyes. His father actually didnīt seem to notice him until many minutes had passed, when the feeling of shock had left the room, and was being replaced by one of sadness and grief. Charles just looked at his son, tears streaming down on his face.

"He forgave him..." he trailed off "He forgave that boy. He knew what was going to happen, and he wasnīt angry at him. He forgave him..."

Jacob couldnīt know what to say. He just nodded, and put a hand on his fatherīs shoulder.

"I... I donīt think anybody could have been a better Christian than your cousin..." he said, looking at the floor, and then looking at his brother and his sister-in-law, crying in each otherīs arms.

Jacob didnīt wait. He just hugged his father. And then closed his eyes and thought of a time were things were more simple, and families were not angry at each other just because someome was born liking something else than the rest.

Edited by Nadir, Mar 15 2011, 07:06 PM.
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