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The Stoner Always Dies; In which Jay Holland catches a break.
Topic Started: May 23 2011, 09:04 PM (2,264 Views)
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[ *  *  *  *  * ]
[[Hayley Kelly continued from Everyday is like Sunday]]

Charlene Norris was dead. Presumably. Not like there was an announcement or anything, quite yet, not like Hayley'd seen her die. But she'd seen the blood. It would be enough.

Hayley was somewhat happy about this. Not as happy as she'd like to be, but hell, the alternative was...she wasn't gonna think about the alternative. The alternative, really, would've been to let Charlene run off and to have gone on their merry way being best friends and toasting marshmallows or whatever stupid shit best friends were supposed to do. She could've done that. Charlene had been running. But what would that have done? She'd have friends, they could've come back later, could've killed them all, maybe, probably, yeah, right? Totally. Hayley absolutely refused to remember the situation as anything but I shot her because we'd be in trouble otherwise.

Also Charlene Norris was a stupid bitch who deserved to die. This was almost besides the point.

But now they were running, which was really high up there on the list of Hayley Kelly's Least Favorite Things, along with stressful moments without cigarettes and beaches, two things which were also obnoxiously present in her life right now. This was really shaping up to be a shitty day, especially if Jay refused to do the cool thing and slow the fuck down. Weren't smokers supposed to have, like, no lung capacity? Shouldn't he be gasping for breath and shit? cause Hayley sure was, and it sucked, but she absolutely refused to let the boy out of her sight. Soon as he was gone, he was gone for good. Nature of the game. That's how she'd lost Maddy and Alex and she sure as fuck wasn't gonna let Jay Holland go out the same way.

She burst past the tree line, Ema close behind, hot on Jay's trail, even as the hot sand burned her bare feet, god she hated sand, god she hated the beach, hated everything about it, didn't she keep promising herself she wouldn't be back? Every time she came back, someone ended up dead, someone ended up miserable, and Hayley ended up freaking out over something and with sand in places where sand shouldn't be. Why did people come to the beach again?

She would've complained but she was kind of busy trying not to fall, trying to catch- did he just fall? Damn, boy was clumsy, least she could catch up with him now, silver lining on a cloud of bullshit. She kept running, looking up for the first time, away from Jay, making sure th



B-O-A-T. Spells boat. That was that thing that was sitting in the water. Being all...boaty and shit.

Holy fuckballs, Batman.

She couldn't blame Jay for hitting the ground, not as she stumbled over to Jay and Janet, utterly in shock. A boat. What the fuck did it mean? There couldn't be boats here, this island was supposed to be cut off from the universe. It was like Survivor, but with murder, and Survivor wasn't really cut off from the world anyway so that was a shit analogy. It was supposed to be, like...just untouchable. So who the fuck got here on boat?

Danya's men. That was her first thought, probably because she was paranoid as balls and because the only alternative seemed so unlikely. But no one was storming the beach. No one was shooting. The boat was just...sitting there. Being a boat. On the shores of Survival of the Fittest, where no boat could be. And what would Danya send a boat for, anyway? Why the hell...what would be the point? There wouldn't be. But the alternative was impossible. So impossible. It really just...it couldn't...

"Good morning, death island."

Hayley jumped about a foot. There was a voice, a loud-as-shit voice, and for once it wasn't coming from a loudspeaker and it wasn't the voice of Danya. It was coming from the boat, and she was all ears. This was going to be either very good or very bad and it very, very quickly revealed which it was.

"We're here with your friendly taxi service, offering an all-expenses-paid trip back to the good ol' USA-"

Her brain, likely in an attempt to save her for at least a moment, to give her a few seconds of joy, the last she was likely to have- or maybe more cynically, to completely secure its own future self-destruction- canceled out the second half of that sentence. Instead it gave her visions of things so far out of reach but for exactly three more seconds, oh-so-close.

Home. Escape. That was the word she'd been avoiding like the plague, escape. So impossible. So unreal. You did not escape from Survival of the Fittest. You went home either in a body bag or, if you were really lucky, with some major PTSD and a kill count that would make Jack the Ripper feel inadequate. Those were your options and Hayley'd always thought it was stupid to dream for anything better. All it would get you was killed by someone who knew the truth, knew how to play and knew they'd rather be a killer than dead. That was why Maddy and Alex were gone, right? Maddy was too good to kill, Alex too good to let anyone else get hurt. They both dreamed of escape, and Hayley had practically laughed at them. And now they were dead, and she was here, and so was the boat.

So much for impossibility.

There was a tinge of resentment there in Hayley's immediate thoughts. Resentment towards these mystery rescuers who chose now of all times to arrive. Now, when Alex Campbell, the last person left on this island who she'd always consider an absolute good- he'd died less than 24 hours ago. The boy who dreamed of escape, and of a way that everyone could go home and live in peace, he was dead now and no rescue boat was gonna save him. Okay, it takes time to get a rescue effort together, okay, this was probably hell to work out. And okay, she couldn't really blame them. Resent them a tiny bit, privately, sure. Hell, she'd resent them for not showing for a week ago, before her boyfriend was dead. She'd resent them for not taking them all out of this hellhole before they'd even had the chance to start killing each other.

But those were just bitter, Survival of the Fittest-survivor thoughts. They would pass. She'd miss Alex and Maddy and Kyle forever, but the hate would pass. The anger would pass. All this negativity.

She had home to change that. Or she would, if her three seconds of happy denial weren't just about up.

"Killers, players, and cannibals welcome too, for the bullet-in-the-head special, if you want the easy way out of this."


Hayley heard the rest of what he said, sort of. Something about Happy Meals and a list of sociopaths. Something like that. Killers, players, and cannibals. That just kept echoing around her head for a while. Bullet-in-the-head special. Extreme lead poisoning. Death. A list. A list of killers, he had a list of killers and if they tried to get on the boat, tried to escape, tried to go home-


It was like she was setting an all-time speed record for the five stages of grief.

I...n-no, okay. Okay, so they're not letting certain people on the boat, they don't mean me, right? I mean, I'm a good person, sort of. I mean I've got kinda a lax sense of morality but that's...I'm just a teenager, a selfish teenager, and I just didn't know what else to do. Right? I mean...I'm not Maxwell Lombardi. I'm not a monster. They...they'll let me on. Have to let me on. I want to go home, I just want to go home...they...

...They can't just judge us like that. They can't. They can't just say "oh you killed someone okay now you're stuck on the goddamn Isle de Muerta, have fun with that," who the fuck are they to make that call? It's like...like they stuck a bunch of soldiers in a war and then wouldn't let them on the plane home cause they killed people. It's not like they had a fucking choice. Fuck, fuck, what do they think they'd do if they were stuck on this island?! Sit around and wait to be rescued? Maybe some people did that, but I'm not a fucking idiot, so I decided to actually try...maybe if these fuckers had showed up on time...

What can I do, though? Think they're gonna go for the whole "didn't think there was gonna be any other way out of this" excuse? I mean...there is a way out of this. On that fucking boat. God, there has to be some way I can convince them I deserve this. If I could just get home...I know I've been pretty fucking awful here but it's the game, I'll change...fuck, I can change, I can, I just need a chance...

But it won't work. They've already got their minds made up, haven't they? They've decided. They put me on a list with fucking Maxwell and fucking Brook and fucking Reiko and none of us are getting on that boat. They're leaving us to die. They want us to die. They think we deserve it. Death penalty without trial.

I...I'm not going home.

Hayley realized suddenly that she had not moved or in fact reacted at all, physically, to the announcement or to anything at all. She was still staring at the boat like it was a mirage on the horizon.

The first thing that came out of her mouth, like so many other things she'd vocalized lately, was strangled, choked, broken, a shadow of what it could been. It was a short burst of laughter. The closest thing she could get to speaking the truth.

She'd fought so fucking hard to go home and for that, she wasn't allowed to leave.

The irony would be delicious, if it wasn't going to kill her.

"Hah...ahah...well, that's new."

With something that might have been a grin, if only it had reached her eyes.

"Well, Jay? Looks like you're gonna see that video after all."
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

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It was kind of weird, how Janet's panic just slipped past her ears like nothing. Almost funny how she didn't even blink at the sudden screaming, the utter meltdown of the girl beside her. Ema's reaction was more like her own. Silence. Silence that could've gone on forever had it only been them two. Had it only been them two, they'd stare, and Hayley would have done this horribly awkward laugh thing she was doing, and the two would melt back into the trees. This would be one of those horrible dreams, the kind that lures you in with promises of happiness and then turns everything into monsters. This would be a bad trip. This would be absolutely anything but true, only revealed for itself by the sudden depopulation of the island, the missing people not mentioned on the announcements. And who but Ema would Hayley even miss?

But they weren't alone. Janet she could ignore. Janet was having the proper reaction to this. Freaking out. Hayley should freak out, shouldn't she? The look on Jay's face said that that was what he expected. Anger. Frustration. Tears. All of those things lingered somewhere nearby in her brain, aching for the chance to show themselves and oh would they get their chance. Probably. But for now she was listening to that list with her very best p-p-p-poker face. Being an angel and shit. Ema's name sent a sharp pain through her head, the physical manifestation of thoughts that would have to be addressed sooner or later. Her own name got nothing. Everyone else's name got nothing. She recognized the vast majority of them, this happy band of psychopaths.

Her name fit right in. The princess sociopath.

This stupid bitch who woke up one morning and thought, let's play Survival of the Fittest. Let's play.

How many people beat her in terms of kill count now, with Charlene dead? Maxwell Lombardi, okay, given, but anyone else? She was a fucking mess. How could she have honestly looked at the boat and thought, "hey, I get to go home and be normal now"? Six people. People had gotten the chair for less. Even if she'd gotten home, who would forgive her? Johnny, she'd been thinking, her best friend would forgive her, but honestly? She wouldn't bet on it. Wouldn't bet on anything. Wouldn't bet on her parents not dumping her ass out on the street. Wouldn't bet on her not being shipped home and sent straight off to spend the rest of her life in a federal penitentiary.

So she made a stupid joke, because that was the thing to do, and Ema made an equally stupid joke, and Janet was so broken up, but there was this bitterness, this resentment, in each of their voices. They tried to hide it, but there it was. She hated herself immediately for it, because bitterness was stupid and pointless and what did she have to be bitter about, really. So she was going to die here. No news. No fucking news. So she'd had all her hopes given to her and ripped away in the space of five goddamn seconds-

"It's not funny."

The look on Jay's face brought Hayley back to earth. He was supposed to be happy. Why wasn't he happy? He was going home, that was good, right? He hadn't killed anyone. Didn't have any bullshit on his conscious, to follow him around for the rest of his life, he could go home and eventually, somehow, forget all of this. Maybe work through some shit with a professional, Hayley was damn sure every kid on this island needed a lot of therapy after this, but eventually it'd all pass and Jay would be okay. Hayley would be dead, but Jay would be okay. That was something.

"It's not fucking funny Hayley so don't- just- just be fucking- Be fucking outraged, okay?"

She couldn't be outraged. Why couldn't she just keep doing this thing where she wasn't breaking over this? She could scream all she fucking wanted, she probably would, later, when this hit properly. She could be bitter and resentful and angry all she wanted, at these assholes on their high horses (boats?), deciding who was allowed to live and who wasn't, who arrived too late to save the people who most deserved to live, who could've showed up just a few days ago and saved everyone she loved, who had completely fucking failed her in every possible way-


It was Jay Holland she refused to be bitter towards.

"Okay? It's fucked up. It's fucking fucked up and I really don't need that right now, okay? So just- shit- just be quiet. Please."

I hate quiet. Quiet leads to thinking about things and thinking about things never, ever leads to anything fun. Can we leave? Can we please just leave? Can this be a bad dream, let it all be a bad dream, just let Jay go home and the rest can all be shitty hallucinations and I can keep being the fucking crazy person I apparently am.

She fell quiet anyway, at least for a few moments. Eyes on the horizon, on the boat. People were coming. Apparently non-members of the sociopath club, as they were getting on the boat. Somewhere in the back of her mind it occurred to her that Danya must be rather occupied if every kid to step near that boat wasn't getting their collar popped. Something big was happening. Alex had been so right. Why hadn't listened to him? Idealistic bastard that he was, he was always right. Kid was so fucking smart. Kid was so fucking dead and they weren't even on time to stop it, Hayley, it's not their fault. Not anyone's fault.

No one's but yours.

That ugly voice. That niggling fucking feeling that this was the beginning of the worst kind of epiphany. A kill count of six, right? She'd dispute that. Skew it higher. Just because she hadn't shot someone, didn't mean she didn't kill them.

"Why me?"

Why anyone?

"Why in the hell did they leave me off?"

"What kind of question is that?" Hayley interjected, breaking this whole quiet rule. "'Course you're not on the list. You haven't done anything worth damning. I...shit. I know I have. They oughta take Ema and Janet and everyone else, just leave me here with Lombardi, that'd be a fuckin' show." She grinned that grin, the one that didn't touch her eyes. Bad jokes again. First line of defense against emotions.

"Jay, stop bugging out and get on the fucking boat. You deserve it. I mean that." She felt something stinging her eyes. Ignored it. Tears were so not worth acknowledging right now. "Go home, okay? Just...pour a couple out for me and Alex when you get there."

Her voice had gained strength in the silence, but by that last sentence she was breaking again. Her voice cracked.

Stop it. Shut up. Shut up. Stop crying. Stop fucking crying, you goddamn baby. Nothing's changed. Absolutely nothing's changed...
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

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See, with Maddy and Alex, it was one thing. With Maddy and Alex, one day, a while ago, days ago, they were there. Right in front of her, both of them, Madelyn and Alexander and fucking Charlene. And she'd waved goodbye, because at the time she was breaking under the strain of that head she'd just removed from its body and she needed them to understand what she was doing and why. And when she'd said goodbye and said, meet me at the Groundskeeper's Hut, she had meant meet me at the Groundskeeper's Hut, she hadn't meant go out, get lost, get suicidal, get your goddamn arm chopped off. But then they didn't show up at that Groundskeeper's Hut, and the last image she'd ever have of either of them was at that bastion of irony, the Fun Fuckin' Fair, with their eyes full of fear. Fear of her, Hayley Kelly, the girl who killed. The baby princess sociopath. That had been over a week ago. They were gone, and she knew it, and it hurt. A lot. But she only knew it from the words over the announcements. In her mind, they were still standing under the ferris wheel, wondering exactly why she'd done what she'd done.

Dutchy, that was something else altogether. Her mental image of that kid would always be as he was once upon a time. Happy. Always happy. God, she was almost glad she hadn't seen him on the island, the absolute last thing she wanted to see was the sweet little blonde boy sobbing and scared. Just thinking about it, honestly, that had been enough to break her. But still...at least her memories were untainted. At least he was whole in her mind. And his death, at least, she couldn't blame herself for.

And then there was Kyle. Kyle, the boy who she may or may not have had time to love, with his glasses and his OCD and his awkward smile and his blue eyes. Kyle who tried so hard to protect her, who'd loved her despite all her stupid mistakes and insecurities and selfish moments, like the one that made her drag the boy into the woods. The place where she watched him die. She'd watched the light fade from his eyes, and as broken up as she was- that was okay. Her therapist would've called it a healthy outpouring of grief. It was too sudden, it was too short, but it was something. As nothing as it was, it'd been Kyle's funeral.

This was new.

This was, somehow, worse.

"I really don't know what to say Hayley. You think of something- pretend I said it."

That meant nothing. That was bullshit. That was a bullshit sentence. Hayley couldn't even muster a response to it. She was so taken aback by Jay's sudden transformation, by his sudden willingness to go, by...by how this was suddenly happening. Some part of her hadn't wanted him to leave at all, yeah? Some bullshit, selfish-as-fuck part of her refused to let him leave. He was something that was hers, and she had so few of those things left, and okay, yeah, the rational part of her said that anything of hers that stayed here was destined to belong to the ground before much longer, but still- still, nothing. Still, she was being an idiot. Still, she had to let him go and not resent how he was handing his gun over to Janet. How he kissed her lips before he ran away, and how he didn't say goodbye.

"Well... Keep safe. I'll be watching you all."

And how she knew it wasn't her Jay'd be rooting for.

This was worse than seeing him die. This was seeing herself die through someone else's eyes. She was at her own fucking funeral, and her last witness, the last person who'd be left to mourn her- he was gone.

"Bye," she whispered, but he wasn't there to hear it.

It took Hayley a minute to recover. A minute to stop staring at the boat, the mirage on the horizon, taunting her. She wanted so fucking badly to just go, see what they had to say to her. Maybe they'd just shoot her; that would be easy, at least. Quick. Maybe Jay'd convince them that she, the stupid bitch who played the game, she wasn't such a terrible person, really. Hah. She couldn't even think that with a straight face. She was a good liar, but not that good. She saw that Jay had left his stuff behind, left it for either of them to take, but she couldn't. She couldn't take his help. It wasn't for her, anyway, not really. All for Janet. What could she say?

Eventually, though, she turned her head. Saw that Ema was gone. Blinking, she whipped her head around, desperately searching f-oh. Ema was close by, just wandered off, just...just probably wanted to deal with this just as little as Hayley had. Hayley had stayed because she adored Jay, because she wanted to see him off properly, because she wanted to say goodbye, and that had totally worked out for her. She'd wanted...something, something like closure, something to make her feel good about this, make her feel like she'd done something worthwhile. Instead she felt like the last twenty-four hours had been ripped from her. Like Jay Holland hadn't existed at all.

Hayley looked at Janet. The girl who, if Jay had his way, would be winning this game. I should kill her now. I really should. She's dangerous and she's probably distracted and...hell. I'm distracted. We're all distracted. She has two guns. I...don't want to do this right now, even. I'm so...tired. It wasn't like her hand left her Vera, it wasn't like she wasn't ready to shoot to kill if Janet looked like she was gonna make a move. But when she opened her mouth, all that came out was

"I...hope I never see you again."

It felt like some stupid killer-to-killer code, but they both knew the other couldn't live, and Hayley hoped so hard Janet wasn't more willing to kill her than she was to kill Janet. Hoped she wouldn't kill her with Jay still close enough to hear the shot. That last thought was the one that gave her the courage to turn around, leaving herself completely defenseless, so she could return to her poor, lost Ema, so they could go back to doing that killing people thing they'd gotten oh-so-good at. Back to Survival of the Fittest. Cue the cut from the dream sequence.

"You're bleeding."

Ema was, still. It wasn't bad, Ema would be okay, but it had to hurt like a bitch, and it was Hayley's fault, like so many things lately seemed to be. She kissed the girl softly as her hand dug into her daypack for- bread, no, flashlight, no, first-aid kit. She fetched the bandages, the rubbing alcohol, and she patched up Ema best she knew how. Really, it was hardly more than a scratch, but when your best friend dies after his wounds get infected- well, that'd make any girl paranoid. Ema wasn't allowed to just be okay. Ema had to be perfect.

And then they had to leave. They had to leave, now, because this place had to dissolve from memory. If there really had been a boat, if they really had come this close to escaping- well. This island, this whole fucking game, the fact that there were still a shitton of corpses she'd have to leave between herself and salvation- it all became just that much more unbearable. Or, hell, maybe it helped. Maybe she could just remember she was damned already. The princess sociopath. On the list of people not worth saving. Maybe if she remembered how little faith they'd had in her, maybe it'd make her stronger.

Or maybe not.

Either way. Hayley took Ema's hand, and left this shit behind.

[[Hayley Kelly and Ema Ryan continued in Harlequin Girls]]
Edited by Hollyquin, May 30 2011, 08:31 PM.
being meguca is suffering

[x] Aidan Flynn [B???] // Passing slowly though the vector, damp with fog, the bog that grows the former business sector...
[x] Chitose Saionji [G???] // 公園に千歳は本を読む!

Winston Evans aced the last English test and would like to point out how gorgeous your shoes are.

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