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Overkill
Topic Started: Apr 4 2017, 04:50 PM (287 Views)
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(Hannah Kendrickstone continued from Forklift Driver Klaus)

The guilt was starting to become the worst part of being on the island. Other parts were bad, her throbbing ankle, her stomach that felt like it was going to swallow up the rest of her body, but the guilt was the worst.

Because she had failed someone again. Why had she been so stupid to have gone this way. Clearly she should have gone the other way, or looked around more before she took off the way she went. Maybe what happened to Noah wouldn't have happened if she'd been smarter. For a bit of the time since she'd heard what happened on the announcement she'd had the thought that she could have died too if she'd been with him, but it didn't feel right. What felt right was the possibility that she could have prevented everything.

She didn't want to see anyone now. Maybe it would be better if she tried to find Livvie after everything that had happened, but she didn't want to see her now. She just wanted to be alone. No one could judge her for what had happened if she was alone. And she couldn't find anyone else to lose.

The pub had been a dangerzone. Maybe she could just be alone in there. It's not like it had been that long. It was probably still empty.

She slowly pulled the front door open and walked in.

It looked peaceful.
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Oh fucknuggets.

Al said he wasn't a serial killer, and in some remote part of her mind she was tempted to agree, because wasn't there some weird difference between serial killers and spree killers? She felt like she had read that somewhere.

What was more important in the present was that he was rushing at her, and that couldn't be good. Her feet felt frozen to the floor. Al was running at her. She did the only thing she could think of.

She threw the two by four at Al's face.
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She tried to spin around and run away. Why hadn't Al stopped? A board to the face would have made her think twice about hurting anyone, but she had never gone around trying to hurt people.

She felt the plastic of the bag come down. It got caught on her baseball cap. Al was trying to kill her. She felt a coldness in her lower abdomen, like someone had placed ice cubes underneath her skin.

She swung her arms up. She had to get the bag off her head. Al would kill her. She felt the blood rush to her face. She could feel her vocal cords making a screech, but the sound didn't register in her ears. She shot her good foot out to try and knock Al down. She had to get away. Far away. Far away where no one could hurt her.

Her bad ankle protested. She was going to fall.
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She fell. She knew she was going to fall, but having her legs slip out from under her still felt surprising. Part of her just thought that somehow everything would come together in the end and she'd be fine.

And then everything with dark, and she tried to breathe, but she just felt the plastic of the bag pressed against her face. She kicked and squirmed, trying to get the bag off of her face, but it was futile. Her lungs felt like they were burning, her limbs hurt from struggling against the hard floor of the pub.

She saw bright spots of light in her vision and then everything went dark again.

G061: KENDRICKSTONE, HANNAH: DECEASED.
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