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Say You're One of Them; Day 5 evening/Day 6 early morning, Open
Topic Started: Feb 26 2017, 11:07 AM (1,453 Views)
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[ *  *  *  * ]
There was pain as the bag hit her, but nowhere near as much as she felt from the sight of Will. There was blood everywhere, and it was her fault. She was the one who had done it.


She was just trying to help. All she was trying to do was to help.

All she had done was try.

And yet again she had failed.

Will was bleeding because of her.

Will was dying because of her.

And somebody in a mask had to sweep in to save the day, because all she had done was ruin everything again.

She couldn't help.

Even as they hit the wall once more, she did nothing.

She had the gun but she was useless.

All she would do was hit the man in the mask she would be thrice damned.

She could only lie there on the ground as everything finally unwound around her, dull thud of flesh against concrete, again, again, again, someone else was dying right now, and that was her fault too.

Why did everything she do have to fall apart like this?

She wanted to cry again, but she couldn't. There were no tears, nothing, no emotion she understood in her thoughts.

She was so useless. Even Will, in his state, was doing more than her.

Why couldn't she just bootstrap herself out of self-pity?

Alex slumped to the floor, but she had no idea what to do.

How could you make up for shooting someone?

"Will? I'm so s-sorry." No apology would cut it.

"I was just trying to help." It sounded like she was just making excuses.
Edited by Randomness, Mar 21 2017, 12:58 AM.
"I have the heart of a young boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk" -- Stephen King

Those no longer with us

It's the Grand Map of Doom! v6
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He heard her voice call out, echoing in the room that now felt so empty. Sorry. Trying to help, didn't mean to. Some words he'd find himself tormenting himself with for days, Not again. He was not going to let her have to deal with that. Not because of him.

"D-don't Amanda, no-not your fault." It very much was her fault, he knew it, she knew it, everyone watching this knew it. But there was no point in hammering that point in, she already sounded like she was on the verge of giving up, just like with Penelope. He was supposed to help her, not drag her further down.

"Tak-take my gun, and find your frien-friends, before it’s too late." It was weird, he figured he'd either go out kicking and screaming, having failed to do anything or drinking himself to death because fuck sense, but he’s killed the person responsible for his hellish stay here and made sure someone other than him was alright. Guess that counts for something.

"Ju-just do me a favour. Live." Words came out weak, compounded with the coughing and the gross feeling in his throat as he knew what was going to happen. His world was spinning around at this point as his vision became darker, like someone slowly pressing down on a light switch. His body felt numb at this point and he couldn't muster the strength to move, He closed his eyes at this point and just kept quiet. Alone with his thoughts as he felt his time run out.

He knew from the start how things would go, ever since he woke up with her close by with that gun, he knew this would end terribly. Up to now he'd forced those thoughts away, the morality of his actions. He was willing to kill for her, alive or dead. No way he gets up there with he's done. Wherever he would end up, sure as hell would be better than this hellhole.

Would he see her again? Probably not. And that was fine with him, if heaven and hell was true, then he sure didn't deserve to be with her.

Despite that and everything that's happened, he felt good. A small smile forced it's way on his face as his hands trembled at his sides.

It was all finally over.

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The world melted around him, warping, changing. Bright stars were filling his vision, as little pinpricks started moving their way up his skin.

He blinked once.

He blinked twice.

On the third time he woke up.

He felt the familiar wood of the Desert Plains Skate Park half pipe on his back. He looked up and saw stars everywhere, it was a pretty night. Someone must've had a radio nearby, he was hearing Handlebars by Flobots playing from somewhere.

He had no idea how he got here.

"Hey. You okay?"

Jon knew exactly who's voice he heard.

(( Michael Crowe continued from Real Human Being ))

"You look like you had some sort of fucked up nightmare man, everything good?"

A nightmare? T-that's all this was? Just some fucked up nightmare...

"Y-yeah, it... it wasn't good."

He moved in close and hugged him. He leaned back to look him in the eyes.

The scar. That axe-forced grin. All the blood...

It was still there. The memories of what happened were flooding back to him.

"Jon, I got some bad news for you."

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He was stuttering.

The bleeding was worse than she had thought, red across his chest, a vivid reminder of what her gun had done, what she had done.

"Sorry. Sorry. Sorry."

Why was he still trying to help her even when he was dying? She couldn't understand. She shot him and he was still trying to help.

He expected so much of her, so much for a person she barely knew and she couldn't take it.

He wanted her to take his gun. She couldn't take it.

He wanted her to find her friends. She didn't know how.

He wanted her to live on. She didn't know why.

"Why are you so nice?"

But there was no answer.

Maybe if they had been anywhere else in the world, he could still be saved, but none of them on the island were doctors. No blood transfusions, no sterile equipment, nothing that could change his fate.

She'd just helped kill a man and there was nothing she could do about it.

It was unfair. There wasn't any way she could do what he wanted her to. She wasn't strong enough, or smart enough to do any of that. But she was alive and he was dead, even though everything within her screamed out that it should have been the opposite.

And yet there was some weight to the words of a dying man, wasn't there. Like some unviolable contract signed without her consent. As if, not doing so would be the absolute worst thing she could do.

Her other savior lay on the ground, face bloody from the fight. Was he dying too? She couldn't tell.

She recognised him now, now that he wasn't a blur of masks and flying toilet seats.

Jonathan was lying on the ground, unconscious or delirious or something, and he needed help, she needed to help him, but all she could remember now was every other person she'd tried to help.

"Are you okay?" She didn't know what else she could do right now.
"I have the heart of a young boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk" -- Stephen King

Those no longer with us

It's the Grand Map of Doom! v6
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"So this is it then, isn't it?"

He looked the spectre in the eyes.

"It's over, isn't it? I'm finished, otherwise I wouldn't be seeing you right now..."

Michael looked towards the ground, as if thinking of something to say, his lip quivered.

"In a way yeah... It don't gotta be though, you coul-"

"Don't. I don't want to. I won't go back, there's nothing there for me."

"Jon that ain't up to me, I c- I can't ju-"

"Well, you had a choice to leave me when Alex showed up! Now, I choose to go too! I can't go back! Y-you can't leave me again!"

He grabbed Michael's collar, before he stepped back pushing Jon off of him.

"Goddamnit I never fuckin' left you! I'm here now ain't I?"

Jonathan rebutted.

"How do I even know you're real, huh? What if you're just some dream, what if it's not really you? What if you're gone, nothing afterwords and I never get to see you again?! You threw away your life to protect me?! Well good job, now I'm here too!"

"It wasn't my fuckin' choice! I never had a choice! There was no way I was getting out of it without one of us getting killed, Jon! I tried, I tried my fuckin' best, and it didn't matter!"

"And you think I didn't try?! What was I supposed to do, just find a corner and wait it all out!? Help isn't coming... It never was, people don't care about us, the people here don't even care about themselves! We never had a chance! I didn't have a choice either!"

A bright light clicked on behind Michael, turning him into just another silhouette.

"I came to tell you that you have a choice now. I know I told you to give up... but, you could do more Jon, you're stronger than you think you are."

He turned to walk into the light. Jon called out, running to him.

"W-wait! Don't leave me!"

He caught up, grabbing Michael by the hand.

"The other choice! What was it?"

Michael tilted his head towards the bright spot in the darkness.

"I won't blame you if you choose the other one. I'd understand why... It's my fuckup that we're here anyways."

"Could I go with you? I... I don't want to be alone anymore."

Michael held Jon's hands and looked into his eyes.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I-I'm sure... There's nothing left for me here."

The two held each other close as they walked towards the opening.

"I'm... I'm sorry I got you into this. I never meant to hurt you."

Jon could see the tears falling from Michael's eyes.

"It wasn-... You didn't mean it. I-it wasn't you fault, it's okay. Only one of us could make it home anyways. I'd rather be here than there anyways. This was the best way it could've turned out for us. L-let's just go."

The two took the time to make one last hug before they moved on.

Jon wasn't afraid anymore. He didn't regret his choice, and he knew he wouldn't later on.

It was over, it was all finally over.

B040- Jonathan Gulley- Eliminated

"Are you okay?"

Jon's eyes opened, he gasped, then took a deep breath. He looked around, that familiar scent of rust filled his nostrils.

He was back in the store room, and Amanda was staring right at him.

It was right there... He was so close... It was over- he was done!

Alex got to die, Will got to die! Why was he still here?! Why was he still alive?!

It wasn't fair! T-this wasn't fair!


He finally had some closure, some peace... and it was all taken away from him yet again.

"Why'd... Why didn't you let me die?"
Edited by ToxieTheToxicAvenger, Mar 25 2017, 11:32 PM.
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She recoiled at his words, almost falling over with surprise, but somehow she managed to steady herself.

Amanda couldn't reply to him. She didn't know the answer, either. She had no reason to help him. She could have just left, but she hadn't. Was it because of what Will had said? Was it because she had this need to actually succeed in helping just one person instead of the constant trainwreck of bad decisions her time on the island was?

Somehow she just couldn't not do anything.

And yet, he was being rude to her and perhaps if her emotions didn't feel so burnt out from all the crying and fear and terror and people dying around her, she might have done something about it. She couldnt bring herself to be completely angry at his reaction. Not when she halfway understood what he meant, even if she would never accept the conclusion.

"Sorry. Look, if you don't need help, I'll just leave, and then you can just get right back to dying."

Okay, maybe she was a little mad at him after all. He was alive and that's all that really mattered right now, wasn't it, no matter how much he protested it.

It wasn't her fault he hadn't died, anyway.
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Jon tried to sit up, but he was nearly overcome with nausea as he tried. If he had actually eaten anything in the last few days, he probably would have puked already. He clutched his throbbing skull, blood seeping through his fingertips as he tried to remember what it felt like to be alive.


Was this what being alive felt like? Wasn't this. That vision he saw. He saw the other side and that felt more like being alive than now. Being alive was... last night, before Alex. It was the one time he was alive since he'd been on his island.

Now... Now he wasn't. But he wasn't dead either, that would've worked out too well. It was an inbetween. Some sort of fucked up purgatory.

He looked towards Amanda, she was... pretty pissed about him-

Aw shit.


Everyone's pretty much bailed on him except for Michael. Michael was dead, now. Nobody's actually stayed with him or really cared about him, and the first person who did, he blamed them for his problems. Amanda was one of the only people who actually showed some form of care for him. Not the 'pretend I'm sorry' care that Brendan did.

"I- I'm sorry... I thought..."

He really didn't know what he was thinking... There were still good people here. It wasn't over yet. Not even halfway over really.

"Everyone I cared about is dead... Now the people who killed them are too... I just- I just don't know what's left I can do."

He tried to stand up, his peripheral vision breaking into pink and black stars, his balance distorted by the forced 'tunnel vision' he was experiencing.

"I just thought I deserved some rest too... Everyone else I knew got it."
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Better, but not quite enough. As if she wasn't sick and tired of it all too. As if she didn't just watch the entire room die around her too. As if she didn't have friends dead or dying.

They were both being self-centered asshats, but at least Amanda was aware of it. But it wasn't like she had any right to complain.

"Right." The words were almost sincere. But did he really want to die? Or was it just a delusion due to all that had been happening around them?

"I don't think it's rest at all. Did you hear Will? There's still regrets, things you want done even when you're dead. " And someone needed to do it. She needed to go. She needed to find her group before something happened to them.

But she didn't go. Not yet. Maybe because there was a chance that Jon was about to off himself the moment she left. Maybe because she just didn't want his death to be another one on her own conscience. Because she didn't was already scared of the oncoming idea of her own name being read out across the island when morning came and that she'd feel doubly scared if she thought she'd have to hear it twice.

But if she wasn't going just yet, then what next? Was she going to stay here with his awkward pessisism, and the pile of dead bodies in the room?

There must be something she could do. But she didn't really know first aid. She could help out with sprains, cuts, maybe. Not whatever this was. And yet, it was all she could do for now.

"Look, if you need help, I'll try to help patch you up." Antiseptic and bandages were something she could try. It wouldn't end up looking pretty, but it would do. "I really don't mind leaving if you want me to though."
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"N-no, it's fine. I'll go myself." Jon slowly walked towards the two bodies that lay in front of him, his eyes trailed on them.

"Everything is... kind of messed up, and I just need time to think. I did just fine bandaging one of my friends when he got hurt, I-I think I'll do alright." You didn't mention someone else came and killed him later that night.

"I just need a night to think, maybe tomorrow I'll get a good idea of what I'll do."

He looked Will first, and the gun near his body. He'd need that if he even wanted to see tomorrow.

He knelt down and grabbed it, rifing through Will's bag like there wasn't someone behind him watching. "Had it coming" he muttered under his breath, but he wasn't sure if it was Will or Darius at that point. Maybe Darius tried to play, and his dumb ass got himself killed. Maybe Will just thought he could get away with it, because nobody would miss him, obviously. Jon didn't know, and the only people who did weren't here. Maybe they both did, or neither of them did. Jon didn't know.

Jon pocketed the ammo too as he turned towards the real reason he was here.

He KNEW Alex deserved it. He hobbled over to the body, and almost went for the axe. He realized he never wanted to see it again, considering what it's story was. What it was used for. To Jon, the damn thing was cursed. He went for the machete still lodged in Alex, placing his foot on the corpse for leverage, he tugged it out.

"You're the real coward... I hope it all still hurts wherever you go." He spat on him.

He couldn't stay here anymore. Any longer and what little of his mind he had would be gone. He needed to breath.

He stormed over to the seat and mask he dropped, and walked out.

(( Jonathan Gulley Continued Elsewhere))
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Of course.

It made sense that she wouldn't get to help him either.

"Alright then. Suit yourself." She wasn't angry anymore, though. If he hadn't turned up she'd be dead. Even if he was so ridiculously grating for her.

Just dissappointed and tired. The adraneline was long gone, and all that was left was something numb and the constant feeling of something sickening crawling in her stomach.

She'd let Jon rifle through Will's bag, as if this was somehow different from Kaitlyn. She almost said something when he took the gun though. Will had wanted her to take that. She wouldn't have, and yet it was wrong to let Jon take it too.

The machete was taken too, and it was clear what he was planning to do. No one decided to become a walking armory for self-defense.

"Wait, are you seriously-" her question hung stopped midway as he stormed off, without even a second glance back. Bet he didn't even hear what she'd said.

Great. Great. Great. Great. Great.

She needed to pull herself together.

Take the gun. Find her friends. Live.

She needed to do things step by step.

The gun that she'd held onto for so many days now was lying on the floor, looking no different after it had killed a man. Then again, she probably didn't either, did she.

How many times had she half-decided to leave it behind already? She didn't bother this time, simply picking it up. Somehow she still couldn't leave it behind, despite everything that had happened.

The danger zones. Emma and Jaime weren't in the pub anymore. But odds were they wouldn't be far, right?

She'd find them. She would. There was no way she wouldn't.

((Amanda Tan continued in The World Without Us))
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