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In A World Of Shit; Open
Topic Started: Oct 11 2016, 11:22 PM (986 Views)
Iceblock
Survivor
[ *  * ]
((Wayne Cox continued from 白色雑音))

He didn't know what he was doing anymore. Or rather, he did, but he didn't want to admit it. He didn't know how to continue even if he did admit it.

He was working at cross-purposes with himself.

He'd thought - or had he said? He couldn't have - that what he wanted was someone who was worth it to make it out of this place alive, to go back and make something of themselves and make sure everything that happened here was paid back in full. A doctor, a judge, a teacher, a spokesperson to rally the masses and make a real change. Someone to give the world something that mattered that would make the loss of everyone here just a footnote to the things they would accomplish.

It was too high a pedestal. He couldn't name a single past winner who had done that much. He didn't know much about them, but he knew that some of them were dead, and others out of the public eye.

Out of everyone, anyone, Asha and Dorothy had deserved to make it to the end. This point had come up again and again, looping through his thoughts. He knew there had been more than good in them, more than noble intentions. Even they felt or would feel the same things under the surface. Hate. Fear. But those things were buried deep, not acted upon even when the impulse came - that was how they were different from him.

Wayne let the taser cartridges spill through his fingers into the open bag below. He'd been sitting here for a while, staying low, staying out of sight. Just a little distance away was the bridge, the only way he could get to the other side of the island without returning down the slopes that he had traveled with them and back to the beach where he had committed his first crime.

He'd eaten breakfast earlier, or at least what counted as breakfast. The bread was long gone, eaten on the first day before it would have grown stale and moldy. Today - a protein bar. Half a bottle of water. The ones that had been assigned to him. The ones that were untainted. He'd separated out the bars on top, the ones from the beach, and only taken the ones on the bottom.

He zipped Asha's bag and slung it over his shoulder. He'd considered dumping one bag into the other to mix the contents. To hide his guilt. It didn't seem to matter anymore.

People were dead. People were gone. Nancy was the one with the axe. Conrad, student council member, someone who was supposed to lead, had killed and been killed. So much for leadership. Kimiko had killed too, and won an award, and all he could think of was that day where he'd thought she'd been checking out Jerry's butt.

So stupid, to wish for the past. But there was nothing for him in the future.

Half measures, always half measures. All he was doing was making enemies. If he had really wanted an advantage, really wanted to win this, he should have gone all the way. He should have slit Asha and Dorothy's throats in their sleep. It would have been quick. He could have told himself that it would have been painless. It didn't matter that his name hadn't been read out this way. The next time they saw him, the next time the girl on the beach saw him, the next time anyone they met and told saw him - he was done for.

And all for bags that might be laying around everywhere as time went on and people died. Even a mass murderer wasn't going to bother to take the supplies of everyone they killed.

So what now?

Time to run from it a little longer. Time to move on.

He began walking across the bridge towards the three people he couldn't avoid.
The Present

The Past
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Iceblock
Survivor
[ *  * ]
The tone of their voices told Wayne that it was best to turn back.

But there was nothing that waited for him back there that was better than what awaited him ahead.

He was running. Blocking off area after area of the island with tainted memories until nothing remained.

So it didn't matter much if he recognized Ty and Clarice. It didn't matter that he didn't recognize the other girl. It didn't matter that although he couldn't make out the words that they said, he could hear frustration and anger carried over the sound of the waves below. It didn't matter that Ty and Clarice were bigger than him, stronger than him, didn't matter that he carried extra packs so that his guilt was in full display. Look at the bags. Look at the knife on his hip. Look at the blood that should have been on his hands.

Those things didn't matter because he forced them not to. He just had to move, one foot in front of the other, over and over again.

Even as he got closer, he just kept moving at the same steady pace, his face like a mask, his hands hooked into his pockets. No eye contact. No acknowledgement.
The Present

The Past
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Iceblock
Survivor
[ *  * ]
No more pretending.

A girl was there in front of him, with curly red hair and a question in her eyes. The question she actually asked was dumb, he thought, but there was something else behind it. Something she wanted from him.

Like Clarice, who accosted him, wanting something from him, too. Wayne had looked down, yes, but he had mostly looked past her. At where he wanted to go. At where he wanted to escape. But there was no escape yet from this situation, and that was how he had intended it, because he had not hidden the extra bag, had not hidden his guilt. It wasn't fair that his guilt wasn't obvious unless he made it obvious. Unless he let his actions or words or face betray him.

So easy now, to tell the truth. He was caught out on one thing. Why not everything?

No more pretending.

He met Clarice's eyes.

"I found it," he said, and hated himself more. "Someone was dead, and..." He paused, filled with disgust - at himself, at the truth behind what really had happened, at the falsehood, at the thought of looting a corpse. "I took it. I guess they don't... I don't know who it was. Didn't want to know."

"And yeah," Wayne said, breaking eye contact to look at the other girl. He was tired of fighting himself. "I guess. I'm not here for the scenery."
The Present

The Past
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[ *  * ]
Wayne replayed Clarice's words in his head even as she left. If she found out he was lying, she'd be upset.

Yeah. He was upset with himself, too. Join the club.

Not upset enough, apparently, even after all that he told himself. Not enough to tell the truth. Probably not even enough to change his ways. He was a liar, a thief. A regular piece of shit. Perhaps he was tempted to use that as some sort of excuse, too - he couldn't tell the truth or do selfless, noble things because he was a bad person, because that was just who he was - but that was a lie, too. There might very well be a natural instinct involved, an impulse to screw other people over just so he wouldn't die, but in the end he had made his own choices. He was responsible for everything that he'd done.

He watched Ty and Clarice go their separate ways, then spared a glance for the girl whose name he still didn't know.

"I don't know why you'd want to follow someone who loots the dead."

There was a moment's pause where he considered saying something more, but then he simply began walking again. He had a long walk ahead, and too many things he couldn't outrun.

((Wayne Cox continued in A Chef's Nightmare))
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