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Waiting for the End; Es ist ein Garten des Blutes
Topic Started: Jun 4 2017, 10:37 AM (1,647 Views)
MK Kilmarnock
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Footsteps in the sand. A lone path, friends left behind or left for dead.

Her anger, derived by sight, insulated by a lack of expression.

She had arrived, finally.

((Coleen Reagan, continued from Empyrean))

Alessio and another boy were talking. The name of the other boy wasn't important; Coleen hardly even afforded him a look other than to determine that thanks to the way the two were positioned in their apparently heated discussion, Alessio's back was towards her. And even though for the moment she couldn't see his face, the sight of him turned away over the scene of a crime was eternally burned into her vision. She would never let it go, not even once he was dead.

The AK-47 had been nestled in her arms for the better part of her travels. Just as planned, she switched the spear out for the more practical weapon the moment the docks were out of sight, so Kimiko couldn't possibly have interpreted the action as a threat and grown hostile and caused the both of them trouble. In her hands, this gun had taken one life. It took the wrong life.

She wouldn't make that mistake again.

"There's something..."

She raised her voice.

"There's something I want to know too!" Coleen shouted at the back of Alessio's head. By all rights, she had him. All she had to do was raise her gun and pull the trigger. He would die. But it was not enough for Alessio to die. She needed to know. "Why do you think you can get away without talking about it? Why don't you want to face what you did?" As she ran over the hypothetical best case in her mind while prowling along the coastline, she imagined herself to be in better control of her emotions. Yet with every word, calm escaped her and was replaced by steadily increasing doses of passion. A vibrato entered her voice and she knew her jaw was clenched tighter and tighter at the end of each sentence.

"Did you know? That you're the biggest fucking coward on this entire island?"

The gun raised.

I'm sorry, Enzo, her heart called out to the one companion she left behind before they could go and die on her. I didn't want you to see this. I didn't want you to see the person I'm becoming. If I make it back, I promise.

I promise I'll make this up to you somehow.
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MK Kilmarnock
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Of course he wouldn't answer her. But to her, that only confirmed the point. Alessio had spent his time here on the island being a coward, and he was going to die like one. All she had to do was-

She noticed Alessio reaching for... something. She couldn't quite tell what it was at the ten or fifteen yards she was standing away, and initially thought the leathery, brown-or-charred looking object was a football or something. Her mind told her 'weapon' and she panicked, squeezing the trigger on the AK-47. The trigger had no give and dug into the back of her knuckle, and it was then that Coleen realized she had left the safety on.

"What the fuck!?" she yelped in surprise, her finger frantically flexing on the trigger of the rifle out of instinct to the same effect, or lack of one, as before. She held up the killing machine in her arms to block the whatever-it-was coming straight for her. It hit with less impact than she had been expecting and as it feel to the sand, Coleen saw that it looked to be a cooked chicken or something. She had no time to think about just where Alessio got food like that as by the time she had looked back up, Alessio was far too close.

She finally smacked the safety off with the base of her thumb and pulled the trigger, but it was too late.

History really did have this funny way of repeating itself.
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MK Kilmarnock
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One hand had come off the gun. Alessio's strikes didn't have a tremendous amount of force behind them but the flashlight was hard and the shell struck her near the eye. Coleen recoiled from the pain and blocked the blows with her forearm the best she could.

Her eyes closed reflexively from the pain. She'd been thrown off her footing and the two of them going were going somewhere she couldn't see. Something pulled at her blouse which only amplified that blind, claustrophobic feeling of being unable to remove somebody who was directly on top of you.

Something felt warm and Coleen realized it was the fire that Alessio or the other boy must have been using before one disturbed the other. There was just enough time to realize the placement of the fire and of their bodies before she toppled.

Coleen was no stranger to being burned, but her injuries that gave her the scars she had to live with for the entirety of her life were from being scalded with boiling water. She wasn't sure what to expect from the licking flames of the campfire, or whether or not the heat was worse than her ages-old trauma. Worse or better, the fire crisped the previously un-burned half of her face. Her voice cracked and swallowed up gulps of intense heat. She screamed in response to the pain, or at least tried, but found herself incapable of producing noise.

Alessio had come into the fire atop her. Her head was pressed down from the force of it, digging her cheek into the hot coals. Coleen kicked and threw wild punches like a cornered animal to try and get the body off of her. Once freed, she scrambled out of the hot pit and fell onto her side, rolling to her back. The screams finally came.
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Coleen pulled her face from the sand. Though it was free of the sand, the burning sensation refused to leave her. The part of her face that she could still have pride in had been completely ruined - she couldn't see it but she could feel it, jerking short, sobbing shrieks straight out of her.

She had fucked up, and she knew it. For only having two attempts at aggression during her whole go at this island survival thing, she figured it was pretty pathetic to be rocking a zero percent success rate. Hesitation had killed Arthur, and now it was going to kill her. Alessio had fallen into the fire with her but how much damage he sustained, she could not tell. She couldn't even open her eyes, her left eye clenched shut and rapidly swelling from being struck with the flashlight and her right felt like it had been melted shut. Alessio could be anywhere, and in any condition, holding anything in his hands.

Her gun. Her gun had fallen to the sand or been thrown away. She wasn't sure when she lost it but now she was empty-handed, her left shoulder pressed up against her daypack and the spear strapped to it. She still had the spear at her disposal but without a way to see the straps or knots of how she secured it to the rest of her things...

Her train of thought was interrupted by several deafening pops, all almost simultaneously being accompanied by sharp pangs to her abdomen. The mystery of the fallen AK-47 was thus solved as a small mercy to her uncertainties, as was the mystery of just what exactly it felt like to be shot. Coleen got her answer as three, she believed she felt three, three bullets lodged themselves somewhere in her abdomen. Her intestines, her liver, maybe even her uterus (well to hell with it, she wasn't planning on having kids any time soon anyway)... she couldn't remember exactly what was where and what had just been damaged. She believed she felt a fourth crash into her hip, shattering the upper end of her pelvis. She choked down air and laid there on the ground, a pathetic, writhing and broken mess waiting to bleed to death.

The sting of tears were unwelcome and prevalent on her cheeks. She thought it was bad to cry before, that the scars reacted poorly to the salty liquid due to how delicate the skin was, but it was a million times worse to suffer through that with fresh burns such as this. The pain was bad enough to make her want to die; Coleen was sure that was coming soon.

Air. She couldn't breathe. Her lung hadn't been hit, had it? The shots were too low. All the same, her diaphragm didn't want to work. Her abs were tensed up like rocks, like torn muscle was knotting itself to try and make itself whole.

Finally, air. She could breathe, and she took a full gasp of the coastal air for all she believed it was worth, for she was sure it would be one of her last. If it were a play, she would draw out a soliloquy. But this was the greatest drama of all, and it was a role far too great for her.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Stay alive. He's not dead yet.
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You're not done yet.




Coleen had found a way to roll herself onto her stomach with the back of her forearm propping her up far enough to keep her face out of the sand. She spat something that tasted a little saltier than saliva and because this just wasn't her day, it wasn't one of those clean spits either; it was the kind that left a few gooey stands running down your chin and you have to flick your tongue or wipe yourself off with your hand to get it to go away. But she didn't have any hands to spare. One held her up, and one was clutched to her stomach as if working alone to hold in her guts as if her ruined abdominal wall could not.




"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Coleen repeated. She'd worked herself up into an anxious mess. "I keep hesitating. I know what the problem is, I'm getting into my own head and I'm trying to come around that. Just... just give me a sec."

The entire practice ground to a halt as Coleen turned to pinch her shoulder. With any luck the self-induced pain might be enough to push her out of her stupor and get things back on track. Brady dropped a stick while fumbling around with his snare, so he leaned over from his chair to snatch it back up. BB set about playing with some of the settings on her amp. Try as she might, Coleen was never able to figure out which knobs did what, the labels be damned.

Vanessa rolled her eyes, turning to Coleen with impatience written all over her face. "Look, just stop fucking thinking about it and just DO it, y'know? You don't have to get it word for word, just make it sound good."

Coleen bit her lip and nodded. Though surprised by Vanessa's sudden interjection, it gave her enough of a kick in the ass to get her head on straight.

Cameron looked up from tuning her guitar and smiled at Coleen. "Look, don't worry about it. Eventually you'll just get the feel of the songs. Your voice is great as it is, and it's just practice. You can learn them, I believe in you." Cameron waved her fingers in her closest approximation of a mystical gesture before laughing. "If not we'll just get high and jam something out, that normally works."

And Cameron had calmed her back down. Now, she was both focused and relaxed. Confident. Sure she could do this. Coleen heaved a deep sigh, turned back around, and brought herself close to the mic.




Her eye opened.

It wasn't the eye she expected; her bludgeoned eye was still swollen shut and that probably wouldn't be going away any time soon. The other eye, the one that felt like it didn't even have an eyelid anymore as far as her nerves were concerned, cracked open. The vision was blurry and hardly serviceable for anything like reading, but it was good enough for what Coleen needed. She needed to know where the ground was so she could stand up. She needed to know where the spear was to grab it. She needed to know where Alessio was.

To kill him.

"You were right..." Coleen croaked, at a volume perhaps only she would ever hear and in a conversation nobody else was privy to. "You both're right." Her hand fumbled for the straps of her bag and the mercifully came undone. She slid the spear out and held it near the middle of the shaft. Now, she had to fight her greatest enemy in the form of her legs disobeying her. She reluctantly let go of her wounds and was greeted with the sensation that all of her blood was pouring out of her, though she cared not to look down and confirm if this was actually the case. Her right leg felt totally fucked up beyond recognition and moving her thigh even an inch sent her hip into agony.

A sample of what it might be like to grow old, an experience she knew now that she would never live to see.

You can't live your entire life afraid to get hurt. The words she spoke to Kimiko repeated themselves over and over in her head. Knowing what little life there was left to live and how precious it was, they only rang truer by the second. Coleen raised the spear's tip to the sky and pushed the base end into the ground, using it to lift herself to her feet. Alessio and the other boy were caught up in a struggle. She thought she heard the clanging of metal striking metal. She steeled herself for the agony she was going to subject herself to, tested weight on her right foot. She could walk - not without pain, but she could do it without a limp if she really tried.

She never thought again about her action before taking off, in a full run, towards Alessio. The spear came up.

The spear pushed forward. Coleen screamed again.

This time, it was not a scream of pain.
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Alessio had fallen, quite possibly for the last time.

Coleen felt halfway to wherever he was. She'd pushed the spear a good chunk of the way into... possibly even through Alessio's back, yet maintained a bulldog-ish grip on the handle up until he was yanked away from her. The spear only left her hands when Alessio's knees hit the ground.

Without as much motivation to keep her eyes open, the vision in her right eye started to fade. Her left wasn't even trying to stay open. If only Georgia Lee were around, she might tell her what a total mess she was and that they needed to fix her up as soon as possible; anything could be masked with enough foundation and with a little determination... plus oodles of cash. She thought she felt the corner of her mouth raise at the thought of one of her fallen friends. The 'fallen' part may have been a little bit redundant by now, though - nearly all of her friends were fallen.

She supposed she could consider the other boy there a friend. An acquaintance, perhaps, to be more accurate. Coleen stared at the boy's knees the best she could and carried her own weight the best she could, swaying back and forth.

"I feel... sick," she said weakly. She also felt tired, accomplished and just a little repulsed at herself all in one. She wasn't sure if Alessio had stopped breathing yet. She stopped caring once the spear came out. She did what she came here to do and she had also fucked up something fierce, and that carried a steep price tag in the form of a ruined, bloodstained blouse and perhaps a perforated liver. Darn. She only had one of those, and she wasn't even old enough to drink yet.

Coleen leaned on the boy and didn't care if he decided to stab her next. Her bag laid a short distance away from her and she didn't care about where that was, either. Nothing important was left inside, except maybe her makeup kit. Gotta pretty herself up for the funeral.

"... Know where Vanessa is?" Coleen asked. "Where's Vanessa? Never got to... see her." She mumbled, maybe even rambled a little bit. It was okay if the boy didn't bring her to Vanessa. Not ideal, but anywhere was better than here. Alessio deserved to die alone, not even in the company of the hated. If he was still alive, he wouldn't be for long. He could die like a coward, with only the waves for company.

"Sorry. I've been... mmph. Rude," Coleen apologized as she struggled to walk in the direction of her choice. "I didn't get your name."

((Coleen Reagan, to be concluded in Summertree.))
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