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The Virgin Sea; -private for now-
Topic Started: Feb 20 2017, 01:52 PM (761 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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((Coleen Reagan, continued from Cooking Up Trouble))

When Coleen first stormed out of the asylum, gun in her hands and spear wedged through the strap of her daypack, she remembered her first enemy being the sun in her face. Then it was the pain in her soles, the rapidly-developing calluses in her hands from handling the heavy, violent piece of metal that so far had done her no good. It gave her another weapon, and it took a friend without removing her original target now. Yes, she had a target now.

None of those prior concerns meant a thing to her anymore, not when the only scene she could play in her mind was the one in which Alessio finally got the boot. The wind was to her back now, spraying her ponytail over her shoulder and itching her in the neck. It was an annoyance, but it beat having her hair over her eyes. That brought back a memory of the first day, the one in which she had run into those boys. Arthur... it was when she first ran into Arthur, and he had decided to stick with her.

The memory of her fallen companion loosened from the forefront of her thought as a scream pierced the air. Coleen recognized it through media as not just a scream of pain, but the scream of somebody who was about to die.

That wasn't exactly true. Movies nor even the greatest of thespians could reproduce what it truly sounded like for somebody to be on the verge of death. To know this all to well was one of Coleen's burdens, as well as a burden to everybody else trapped here like rats on a rock. Be that as it may, the scream most assuredly wasn't Alessio's; it was a girl's, and it didn't quite sound like Vanessa's, either. Maybe it was B.B.? Was B.B. on the island after all?

Against her better judgement, Coleen made her way over the rocks as cautiously as her aching body would let her. She saw, down near the breaking waves, three girls. Two standing, one on the ground. The sand around the prone girl had been soaked a lovely mahogany, gruesome testament to the act being carried out. But the girl wasn't B.B.

It wasn't one of her bandmates.

She had nothing to do with this. She could walk away, pretend she never saw anything, and just listen to what had happened on the announcements. Or... or she could...

"Damn it..." Coleen whined, making her best attempts to quell the trembling in her hands as she picked the pace up into a run. The pack and spear jostled, the gun in her arms shook and her only trains of thoughts were 'Alessio's getting further and further away' and 'I'm putting myself in harm's way for next to no reason.' The trains collided at Thought Station in a fiery explosion. There were no survivors.

"HEEEEEY!" Coleen screamed. "STOP IT! STOOOOOOP!"
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MK Kilmarnock
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Drawing closer only painted the picture of the scene in further detail. The painting was a gory one; the girl on the ground was a mess, with blood seeping from around her chest or her shoulder and around her abdomen. Her hair, thrown about in a mess and soiled with sand and sweat and maybe a little blood, was something of a battle scar and proof of the violent struggle that had been going on for who knows how long before she got there. Probably not long. It never really took anybody too long to kill anybody else in this place, not when nobody was really adequately prepared to defend themselves.

Weak sobs competed against the sound of crashing waves and though they only barely struck Coleen's ears, a knot instantly tied itself around her chest and she felt like crying along with the girl. It would have been no different if it were one of her brothers she was hearing. The time Ronnie skinned up his knees and nearly busted his wrist riding his bicycle straight into a tree came to mind. Maybe it wasn't the same exact situation but she treated it similarly, squeezing her left thumb in her fist to distract her from the tightness in the chest. She'd be the big sister here, if just for a little bit.

By the time Coleen came around to the girl's side, she was able to ascertain two things. First, the sobbing wreck on the shore was none other than Lizzie Luz; she was only passingly familiar with the girl and they shared few if any common interests, but often gave that messy, short hair of hers a sideways glance and envied how easy it must have been to take care of. The second thing she realized almost straight away was that the wounds over the girl's body were severe. So severe, in fact, that dread of the worst scenario was already hanging overhead. Pushing the cloth of her dress firmly over her knees to take some of the sting away from the sand, Coleen lowered herself closer to Lizzie's side.

"Hey..." she spoke, the AK tucked high up across her thighs close to her belly. Hands hovered over Lizzie, deciding what to do and if it was worth placing any sort of compress on the girl who, sadly, was probably not going to live much longer. "It-ah, It's over now... they're gone, they ran off," Coleen said, searching for the right words. "Are you okay?"

She wanted to slap herself so hard at the question. The only way Lizzie could be less okay than she was right now was if her throat was slit and the light had left her eyes. Coleen fought the urge to wince, sizing up the wounds. With Arthur's death still fresh in her mind, she figured it was half pessimism and half realism that there was nothing she could do to save her, but maybe it was possible to dull the pain in the slightest. A quick rummage through the daypack retrieved the first aid kit, but she couldn't remember for the life of her whether these things had pain pills or not until her trembling hand pulled out the treasure to her search: a bottle of ibuprofen.

It'd do jack diddly, but maybe it'd at least take the edge off.

"Just hold on, I got something for you..." Coleen tried to assure Lizzie, managing her strongest smile.
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"Who were they?" Coleen swallowed the lump in her throat. She was not allowed to cry, for this was Lizzie's time. All she was here for was a strong shoulder and a firm grip. There for a pill or three and a compress on the wound. Somebody to talk to.

She didn't know how to react to being thanked. If only the cold truth of the inevitable weren't so near, it'd be a moment for hearts to swell in shared compassion. She just wanted Lizzie to feel better, to stop feeling pain. A silent voice inside her own head that dared not make itself known mentioned that the only way for Lizzie's agony to check out early was through a bullet, but such a dark song never ran across the conscious meter. The suffering was an inevitable cruelty, then, and so in apology, Coleen took up Lizzie's hand.

She smiled again. "Hey... just chill out. I think I've stopped the bleeding... so. So." Coleen strung lie after lie and hung them like a pearl necklace across Lizzie's breast. "Just shut your eyes and rest for a bit. We can talk more about this after you wake up. 'Kay?"

She squeezed her fingers gently.
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"I... okay."

Coleen left her gun where it was for the moment. There was nobody around to take it but Lizzie. All the rifle knew how to do was to kill, and there was nobody to kill, not anymore. She held tight to Lizzie's hand, scooping the other hand down to try and support the back of her shoulder. Lizzie was not necessarily heavy but she was weakened, hardly able to sit up, let alone stand, and Coleen never thought much of her own strength.

She thought of the two names Lizzie croaked out. She said one with more... more pain than the other one. Lily... did she know a Lily? Was it Lili Wiliams, or Lily Caldwell? Caldwell was one of the Luz family, making her... like her step-sister or her cousin or something. Coleen was an outsider looking in and never once attempted to understand that family tree when she had a large enough family of her own to help take care of. Both of the girls were Juniors as well, so she didn't know much about them aside from Williams' musical talent and Caldwell's relation.

Didn't really matter now. She'd get her answer to that question when the next announcements played, telling of Lizzie's murder. Probably right around the time it spoke of Arthur's.

"I think we got you... can you stand?" Coleen asked, her arms still supporting much of Lizzie's weight. "Here, I won't let go until..."
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She watched, wordlessly, until Lizzie had almost completely disappeared into the waves.

Though it crossed her mind, no attempt was made to stop her. How could she? Lizzie wished to die on her own terms, taking what little freedom was afforded to her. Coleen hoped that, whatever happened behind that dark veil called death, Lizzie had found what she was looking for away from here. The only solace, she figured, was that Lizzie wasn't in pain anymore.

Oh, how she hoped that was true, but pain didn't just come from bleeding wounds. There was a deeper, lasting trauma in her words as she spoke. The speech of the dying in theatre did no justice to the genuine article; it was often peaceful and resigned, serene for an audience, tending to add to the tragedy of the scene. Even many of the greatest actors alive would be put to shame by Lizzie's agony.

Coleen had turned away from the beach and picked up her things. Lizzie was out there in the ocean, dying alone as she intended. A ghostly girl walked along the very same shore on her first day with the wind to her back. Maybe she could understand how Lizzie thought, maybe she could feel the way she felt before she took matters into her own hands.

But this is where they parted ways.

Coleen brushed the tears away from her eyes with her sleeve that became increasingly dirty and stained over all the days that she wore it and pressed on.

((Coleen Reagan continued in With Blood and Rage of Crimson Red...))
Edited by MK Kilmarnock, Mar 4 2017, 05:05 PM.
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