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Rear-End Collision; (Private)
Topic Started: Apr 4 2017, 04:37 AM (1,333 Views)
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((Lily Caldwell continued from Die Anywhere Else.))

She left the hospital behind. She ended up on the other side of the island. She spent the rest of the day wandering. And the night. She didn’t sleep. She just kept her feet moving, moving but never really going anywhere. She’d followed Isabel for days. She didn’t know what to do now that she had the freedom to go where she liked.

She wandered, and the sun came up again. She stopped, as she always did, and pulled out the notepad to write down the killers. Writing down the details as she always had.

A name jumped out at her. Alex Tarquin. He’d been murdered. Lily heard it, and a small smile crossed her face.

They were proving her right. People like Isabel and Alex. Proving that being a speck was safer. Proving that she shouldn’t be—shouldn’t have ever been—envious of Isabel’s power. Isabel had died. Alex had died. Half of the class had died and she still remained.

Maybe it didn’t matter that she hadn’t been one of the five who killed Isabel. Did she need that sort of attention on her? Being mentioned alongside Lizzie was bad enough.

She was right. She’d been playing the game right. And if she told herself that, kept telling herself that, she didn’t have to think about anything else. She was right. She was right. She was right. She'd been doing this right.

She arrived at the dormitories. Many small rooms. Surprisingly, she didn’t find any bodies. Had people not come here much, or simply stayed quiet?

There was furniture. Maybe she could board herself in. Just hide. Just be a speck of dust in an unremarkable room. That was the way to play. That’s how she should have played this whole time. Lily stood in the doorway to one such room, frowning at it and wondering how to board it up while leaving a route open in case of the inevitable danger zone.
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((Min-jae Parker continued from I know my soul's freezin', Hell's hot for good reason))

Jae hadn't slept much either.

He had gone where Dorothy said, believing that he was following her, only to find the staff dorms empty with no sign of either her or Alessio. Maybe she had found him again and given chase. Maybe she had just wandered off somewhere. No skin off Jae's back either way, right?

No, either way he was still empty-handed and pissed off. He had sworn a bit, kicked a few things, overturned a piece of furniture or two to make himself feel better, and then he had skulked around the building for the rest of the day in case Alessio decided to show his face. Night came without Jae seeing another soul, insert some edgelord musing about whether he or anyone else left still had souls here. Every thought and feeling that he had was becoming old news; it was all so draining.

He had taken the pillow from a bed and crawled underneath to sleep, dragging his belongings under with him. He was tired of getting surprised during the night. Sleep hadn't come easily, and when it had, it didn't last long. He woke several times during the night to half-heard, half-imagined sounds, clutching the crossbow to his chest and trying not to breathe, straining to hear if anyone or anything was coming closer. Nothing ever did.

Until now.

Jae was already rattled from the announcements. Nadia had gotten her last wish; his name hadn't been called. She had made her choice and gotten her last laugh. He was envious, in a way.

But after her, it was Isabel, Isabel, Isabel, and Dorothy who had helped to kill her and wait what.

What.

That was all that still circled through his head: What. How. Dorothy? Seriously? Seriously?

Dammit all, now he'd probably have to take back some of the worse stuff he had thought or said to her if they ran into each other again.

But, (un)fortunately, there were more immediate things to be concerned with. Such as the pair of feet occupying the doorway. If Jae craned his head to the side a bit, he could make out a girl. Something about her nagged at him, but he didn't think he recognized her. The main problem here was that huge fuckoff sword she was dragging along, but really it was almost as big as she was so the effect was more comical than menacing.

She didn't seem to be moving any time soon, and Jae was starting to get pins and needles from being wedged under the bed for so long, so that decided it. He reached out and bumped the bed frame, deliberately making noise to signal his presence and keep her from getting too... whatever the sword equivalent of trigger-happy was when he started to move.

"Morning," he said, for lack of anything else.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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She should have probably checked under the beds before standing here for an inordinate length of time. Still, at least whoever had just moved and spoken up hadn’t shot her in the legs. Maybe they didn’t have a gun, but… well, silver linings, anyway.

“...Morning,” Lily said back, also for lack of anything else. “Didn’t know this room was taken.”

Lily took a step in and crouched slightly to get a look at the person under the bed.

...Oh.

To be honest, she didn’t recognise the face. The fight had been too much of a blur and she’d spent too much of it with her eyes close. But the crossbow. How many crossbows could there be on the island?

Lily straightened up immediately. “I’ll find another room.” She walked out quickly and down the hall, trying to stay calmer than she felt.
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She retreated as soon as she got a good look at him, back down the hallway before the boogeyman could emerge from underneath the bed.

Jae supposed it made some sense. Guy with a weapon hiding under a bed like some kind of weirdo, and how did she know he wasn't just trying to exchange pleasantries before shooting her in the face? But something wasn't quite right about how suddenly she left, about how she froze for a split second upon seeing him, like she knew something he didn't...

...On second thought.

Maybe he did recognize her after all.

It had been dark. He had been focused on Isabel, on Asha, on the murder that escaped from his grasp as the wrong life slipped through his fingers. But he had seen her, there in the hall.

The front of his shirt was still stained dark with Asha's blood.

Jae crawled out from under the bed, slithered like an animal until he got to his feet and followed her out the door.

"Wait," he called. "Lily."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Well. He definitely knew.

Lily stopped, struggling to get her face under control. She’d escaped Isabel, but she’d been present for far too many of Isabel’s kills. How many more times was this going to happen? People demanding answers from her, when all she did was fail to act.

Slowly, with no sudden movements, Lily turned to face… his name was slipping from her tired brain, if she ever knew it at all.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”

She was suddenly aware of how heavy the sword was in her hand. She clenched the handle a little tighter without really thinking about it.
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Jae stopped, staying out of reach of Lily's sword. That was assuming she'd even be able to lift it to attack if she wanted to, between its size relative to her and how tired she looked. She looked the way he felt.

"Jae," he said, not feeling the need to offer any more than that. He didn't know what else to say, what to ask. He hadn't known her name either before yesterday.

Lily Caldwell, a footnote in the disaster that the last week had been. A little moth circling Isabel's flame until it was snuffed out. If he hadn't seen her there, he wouldn't have suspected. They were all finding out just what and who they were in the dark.

"Did you see her die?" He wasn't sure if he meant Isabel or Asha.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Jae. Right. Min-jae Parker had been a name on the announcements. Did watching Isabel die matter? Was he going to take her to task for not defending Isabel, or for betraying her? No, that didn’t… that didn’t make sense...

“Yes. I saw her die,” Lily said plainly. “There were five others. They attacked. I watched. One of them walked off with her head. ...She can’t really be any more dead than that, and good riddance.”

Lily stared at the crossbow. A creeping realization that she hadn’t properly processed until this moment was rising. If Jae attacked, it would be one-on-one. No Isabel to soak up the damage or act as the decoy for the ire. It would be Lily, with a sword she could barely lift and the helmet that, for all that it was bullet proof, didn’t really provide that much protection.

“You were with...” Lily stopped for a moment, struggling to remember the girl’s name. There’d been so many people Isabel had killed. “...Asha? I didn’t… I didn’t fight. Didn’t… that was all Isabel. That wasn’t… wasn’t me.”

Her grip hadn’t loosened on the sword. But Lily’s stance was not warrior-like at all, anyone could see that. Slightly hunched, pulling all her limbs just a little bit in as if to minimize the target she made.

“I don’t want to fight,” Lily said quietly.
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Did Lily's reasons matter?

Not really. Not enough to change what Jae thought of her. She looked like a little kid playing solider, with her hair haphazardly sticking out from under that helmet and the oversized sword. The bloodstain on her dress ruined the image, brought it back to reality, and Jae realized that it was most likely Lizzie's blood. That was the only name that Lily's had been announced alongside.

But Lizzie Luz hadn't been his friend. And Lily was right - she wasn't the one who had torn Asha open and left her to die. She wasn't Isabel.

So why did he hate her so much?

Because she was a coward? Because she hid behind a killer? Would it have been any different if it had been someone else she was tagging along with, or if the people Jae cared about hadn't gotten into the line of fire?

Maybe. It didn't matter. Jae was sick of whys and people demanding explanations, because everyone's reasons boiled down to the same damn thing: because they were here. Because this was the choice they had been given and whether they killed themselves or killed others or just sat in one place and waited to die, it all felt like letting the people behind the cameras win.

"I don't want to fight either."
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Well… he wasn’t charging. He wasn’t shooting. He wasn’t monologuing like a supervillain. Jae wasn’t being a loony like every killer that had attacked so far. That was something.

Lily’s grip on the sword loosened. Enough that she accidentally dropped it, and had to crouch to pick it up again.

“...Okay. Good. Uh… thank you.”

Lily shifted on her feet, unsure of where to go from there. There was nothing to discuss. There were limited topics in this game, and she wasn’t really interested in pursuing any of them. She wasn’t interested in talking to anyone. She only wanted to bar herself inside a room and stay there until the game ended.

Honestly, what was there to say?

“I’m… I’m going to go now, if that’s alright?”
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"What are you going to do now?"

He could guess, and he would most likely be right. Lily had her one.

Jae shifted his grip on the crossbow but didn't raise it. This wasn't a fight. She wasn't Isabel.

His breathing was still coming shallowly, static in the edges of his sight like back at the church.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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“I don’t know. I… I just...”

Lily was as useless as could be. What chance did she stand? What could she do? The answer was nothing. She couldn’t kill Isabel. She couldn’t kill Lizzie, only put her in more pain. She couldn’t save Lizzie. She couldn’t—or wouldn’t—save Tina.

Couldn’t. Couldn’t. Couldn’t. She’d always been useless—a sick child who couldn’t be trusted to stay at school for a couple of weeks without catching something and ending up on sick leave—and the island only made it more obvious.

Irrelevant. A speck. A speck was beneath notice, but it couldn’t do anything either.

Lily didn’t say anything else. She just stared without really seeing, as some sort of melancholic panic curled inside her stomach.

Then she just turned and started to head further into the dormitories. Like somehow the answer to not being useless, to not being a speck, to being something that might be worth all she’d given up just to get this far, lay that way.
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She didn't know. She turned away without any reason, without any plan, and Jae bit back the sudden urge to scream at her.

Lily wasn't Isabel. She didn't kill for shits and giggles, just to revel in someone else's pain. She had her one. She could probably say she had done her best to put Lizzie out of her misery, considering Isabel had also been involved. She hadn't beaten someone to a pulp for being scared and attacking out of fear, because she was unable to cope with her own emotions.

Lily's fear was quiet. It was what had let her tag along with Isabel for so long without getting killed, most likely, and it was what had allowed her to slip away unharmed when Isabel's sins finally rose up and tore her to pieces. She could slip away again and probably stay that way for the rest of the game, biding her time and waiting until everyone else had forgotten about her. She wouldn't hurt anyone else, not actively.

And Jae hated her for it.

He'd had a lot of time to think over the past couple of days. Sometimes, there’s nothing else to do besides sit yourself down for a long, brutally honest talk.

So, here’s the deal, self: you’ve fucked up big time.

Hazel? Abandoned her. Henry? Weren’t there for him. Asha? Tried to save her, just a few seconds too late to do any good. Nadia? Pulled the trigger yourself.

You know why? Because you’re a fucking coward who hurts people, that’s why. Intentional or not, because you were angry, or scared, or hurting too, whatever. It’s all over as soon as it’s acted upon, and reasons don’t matter unless you’re analyzing a character in a movie. Actions speak louder than words, blah, blah, blah.

Here’s what your actions have been saying so far: you’re a coward and a murderer. You’re trying to control the world like a man when you’re hardly more than a lost little boy, too hurt to say for sure that you really want to live anymore and too full of fear and spite to die. You’ve got a half-wrecked body, a bunch of dead friends, a classmate’s blood on your hands, and at least three killers who got to walk away when they shouldn’t have.

Because even though you told yourself you’d go through with it, who was going to hold you to it besides yourself? You wanted your moral compass to drag you back into line, whether you admitted it or not, because you’ve learned what you’re capable of, and you scare yourself more than you’ve ever intimidated anyone else. Now, in case you haven’t noticed, most of your moral compasses died horribly while you were still trying to sort your shit out. Two people who didn’t deserve it gone from this world, and you’re still here.

Here’s the deal, self: you are in a world that, for all intents and purposes, hates you. Everyone left alive on this island benefits directly from your death. The guys running the cameras decided they hate somebody or something enough that they don’t care whether hundreds of innocents die. Even if you go home, people will find reasons to hate you. Because you were part of this, or because you’re mixed-race, or because you’re gay, since we’re acknowledging that’s a thing now.

So hate them back. Hate them enough to live, or at least to die on your own terms whenever you figure out what those are. Hate them enough to be more than just a footnote in some decade-spanning tragedy. And don’t give them the fucking satisfaction of hating yourself ever again.

Jae wanted to shout it all at Lily, two cowards in a hallway, alive when they didn't deserve to be, holding weapons that they had no business wielding and stained with blood that wasn't their own. He wanted to tell her that everything she had done so far was exactly what they wanted her to do, wanted to ask her what the hell she would be going back to with half her family gone and the rest aware that she had helped put down one of their own and aided the woman who got her jollies from killing and terrorizing others for no reason other than that she could. But Lily had made it clear that she couldn't, or wouldn't, understand and accept it. She had made her choice.

This wasn't a fight. Lily had just messed up and gotten people hurt, like Jae. She wasn't a killer like Isabel or a swaggering hypocrite like Michael or even a fuck-up like Brendan.

And when he raised the crossbow at her back and fired, he didn't miss.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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She heard the twang too late to do anything.

There was a brief, but incredibly intense, surge of pain. Then there was nothing at all.

But Lily wasn’t dead.

She was just suddenly lying on her face, feeling rather disconnected. What had happened? He’d shot her. Right? But she… she wasn’t feeling it, had she just somehow imagined that pain? Had he just whacked her with something? A lead-up blow to what might be a fight after all?

No. There was blood pooling. She could see it out of the corner of her eye, a blur of dark red. She had been hit. But at the same time, it felt disconnected. It didn’t feel like her blood, shouldn’t she be able to feel that much leaking out of her? She didn’t even feel damp.

Why couldn’t she feel it? If she just… if she just moved her arm, but her arm wasn’t moving. She couldn’t feel her arm, either. Or her legs. She could feel the concrete pressing into her face, and she could move her neck a tiny, tiny bit. Enough to stop herself suffocating on the dust-coated floor. The dust was making her nose itch. She couldn’t scratch it. Somehow, in this haze, that was the worst part.

“What’s… what’s… I… I can’t...”

Suddenly, she realised that she hadn’t been useless after all. No. Not until this very second. Not until that crossbow bolt lodged itself into her spine.

“...Oh no. Ohnonononono—Jae, you… you…” Her sight was blurry. She couldn’t find words. She could barely breathe, and she didn’t think that was because of the crossbow bolt. Her breath started coming out in wheezy, panicked breaths.
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Alvaro Vacanti. Alessio Rigano. Isabel Ramirez. Lily Caldwell.

That was what Jae had thought to himself over and over, imagining their deaths, imagining that he would get some kind of release when he had made sure that none of them made it home for what they had done to him.

Alvaro had been... well, he would have burned himself out eventually. It was only a matter of time before he ran afoul of someone better-equipped, someone who wouldn't be caught off-guard. It was a grim sort of inevitability he had felt when he heard Alvaro's name called for the last time.

Isabel had been satisfying to hear, yes. It had been drowned out by Jae's disbelief over Dorothy taking part, but satisfying all the same that the bitch had gotten what was coming to her. He hoped that she had suffered.

He hoped that she had suffered more than Lily was suffering right now because Lily sounded pretty fucking terrible.

It was how she called his name that wrenched Jae out of his dazed fugue state and then there was the choking horror and the sick twist in his gut but god, he wasn't sorry for it. He had meant it. For every murder that she had idly stood by for. For Asha. And for the fact that when she finally had the chance to make things right and do Isabel in herself, she hadn't taken it.

Jae took a staggering step to the wall and leaned heavily against it, sliding down to sit with a thump, cradling the crossbow in his lap like it was his child.

Lily gasped and wheezed as she bled out, and Jae clamped his hands over his ears to block her out.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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((Emma Luz continued from … Lose a Hand))

She’d… made a mistake yesterday.

Emma knew that being alone like this wasn’t the best idea. And yet, she had to run away from Jaime. Even if she was acting disturbingly bold towards the idea of murder, it still didn’t change the fact that Emma was now vulnerable. Likely, Jaime was too. Just like that, what was left of the group had dissipated. Some part of her wanted to go back, see if she was still there. But how? Maybe Jaime moved on.

She’d found her way in here. The smell in the B blocks reminded her of Mabes, but the dorms were otherwise a good place to rest. Her body needed it. Luckily, the A blocks weren’t so bad on the smell issue. And she even found something that was somewhat of a boon.

Fresh clothes. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Emma remembered something. Hygiene was one of the best things you could do for yourself in a survival situation. Parasites, bacteria, and viruses could kill you in a worse way than any murderer. She’d remember this a few times when she felt her clothes itch as the days went on. So, it was fortunate that she found some clothes in one of the rooms. Nothing fancy, but she did take the dark blue tank top and jean combo.

Emma had spent the night here in one of the rooms, racked with doubt. Sometimes, she fell asleep, only to wake up back in bed. She’d always wonder about the same things. Was she right in leaving Jaime? Would it have been better if she’d led? Were Jaime, Lucilly, and Amanda okay? Could she have done something to save Sabrina? Or Tina? Or Lizzie? Or countless, countless people now, who have died? Would Isabel kill more? Was she going to make it out okay?

It didn’t help that she’d had another episode last night. When she woke up, expecting another fit of worrying, she instead saw shadow people standing in the doorway. Then, the monster, the one she’d imagined at the pub, had faded into existence once more. It stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her with those yellow moon eyes. Emma saw that it looked like a dog, or maybe a wolf. A coyote? Maybe. She’d stared at it, and it stared back. Emma didn’t want to look at it, but she couldn’t move. Then, the people faded away. The coyote followed shortly after.

Despite everything, Emma fell back asleep, and awoke to the announcements. That’s when she got the news.

Isabel was dead. Apparently, a group of people had found her and… did what they could. But it meant several other people had to die. One of them was Lucilly. Lucilly, the girl who she had traveled with for a while. Even dead, Isabel still found ways to rip people from her life. She still had to add to the pile. Yet, Emma found a crawling sense of disgust at the relief she’d felt.

However, Amanda, of all people, had killed too. She was still trying to process that. Someone got disemboweled with a machete? Amanda shot who did it? She didn’t want to think about it. Could she trust Amanda if she ever saw her again, too?

For some time, she’d lay in bed, thinking. But, eventually she willed herself to get up, put on her glasses and shoes, take her medication, and start heading out. There had to be a way to get food and water, and even if her head was dizzy, she was going to figure out how.

As she picked up her bag, she realized that she heard noises. Distant, like talking in another room. She had to investigate, even if it was the worst thing she’d do.

Emma stepped out, looking around her. She looked one way, nothing there. The other… there was. It looked like a shape, or… oh no. It was a person, laying in the hallway. At first, Emma didn’t recognize who it was, or even if she was still alive. Emma saw that what looked like a bolt was sticking out of her back. Her heart started pounding when she realized who it was. Even with the odd helmet, the grime, and the distance, she still rang a bell. How could she not?

“Lily?” she shouted.

She didn’t think. Emma just ran forward. She was quite some feet away, but Emma had to. She had to do something. Anything. She needed to see whether she was alive, whether something could be done, or-

Emma hadn’t seen who was responsible. She didn't realize that he was just a few feet away, with his hands over his ears and his back to the wall. All she knew was that Lily was bleeding out, possibly dying.
RICHARDS/BAINES OTP!

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