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But You Won't See Me; James Houlihan
Topic Started: Sep 21 2014, 02:00 AM (1,032 Views)
Fenrir
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Biting The Hand That Feeds
[ *  *  *  * ]
The urge to move was so powerful it was painful, the desire to leap to her feet and make a dash for the end of the hallway and momentary safety was so strong, but whether due to being paralysed by fear or weakened by pain and all consuming tiredness, Alice could not bring herself to raise herself up or even to raise her head.

She lay atop her crossbow and for the moment she was being left alone; any movement on her part could cause that to change, could make either of the people near her turn their attention to her, so she remained still. Alice daren’t move.

Voices reached her from nearby, soft voices and whispers saying words she couldn’t make out but which sounded urgent and hurried. Alice stayed quiet, but alert, listening harder to the voices and what they were saying; she would force herself to run if what she heard warranted it.

What was being said… it didn’t make sense to her. It was the boy who was speaking and he was telling the girl to take care of herself, to find her team. It sounded like a goodbye. His voices sounded weak and he had to choke the words out.

Alice had stabbed him so many times.

Thanks for everything.

She just wanted him to stop.

I’m going to send the producers a message.

No.

She just wanted him to stop.

She hadn’t wanted this.

He wasn’t talking anymore.

She didn’t mean to kill him.

Alice stifled a sob. Any noise now would only draw attention to herself and with what she had just done she would not blame the girl for wanting revenge. She would not blame the girl for wanting her life in return.

She tucked her head down into her chest and tried to crawl in on herself to draw less attention. She folded her arms around her head and pushed her crossbow under her chest, cocooning herself around it.

The smell of fresh blood assaulted her senses.

It was dark in her cocoon, but she could still see that her shirt was stained a much darker colour than it should have been. She moved her arm slightly to let in some light and could feel the way her right arm tried to cling to the carpet, could sense the tackiness between the fingers of her right hand as she moved them. The light revealed that the upper portion of her light pink t-shirt had been stained a dark and dirty shade of red. She knew if she could see her right arm she would see more of the same, likely it was even on her face and neck.

The odour concentrated in the small space and threatened to choke her. She felt sick, her eyes watered and she felt the bile rise in her throat. Alice raised her head and broke the seal of the cocoon, gasping in fresh air which forced the bile down for now but which brought the tears out, new streams following familiar paths down her cheeks.

She wanted to be sick. She wanted to scream and cry and yell. She wanted to forget it all or take it back or do something to not have to deal with this again.

She had killed someone. Again.

This time she couldn’t claim it was an accident. She had been fully in control of her actions when she had stabbed him again and again. She could claim self defence, she could claim it was done out of mind numbing terror for her own life, but it was still her choice, her actions which had led to this.

She pushed herself up on shaky arms; her body burned with pain, her arms ached from exertion and her shoulders and torso felt aflame with the agony which suffused it. Her head swam with terror and tiredness and a feeling beyond guilt and regret.

She was tired, physically and mentally and emotionally she had reached her limit. It was so tempting just to give in then and there, to fall asleep and let whatever happened happen.

Alice turned her head and looked with bloodshot and tear filled eyes at the person who must hate her more than any other. She turned to the girl with the arrow in her leg and could do nothing more than stare at her.

Eventually she was able to roll away from the girl, taking the pressure of her arms and landing instead on her rear. She leaned back and sat against the hallway wall, hands at her sides and fingers clenching at the floor.

The urge to move was so powerful it was painful, the desire to leap to her feet and make a dash for the end of the hallway and momentary safety was so strong, but whether due to being paralysed by fear or weakened by pain and all consuming tiredness, Alice could not bring herself to run.
Program V3 Prologue
Michael Bair - Proud to be an American
Quote: N/A
Weapon: Brass Knuckles, Heckler & Koch FABARM FP6 Entry
Location: N/A
Status: Alive

The Departed
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crabCaptain
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[ *  * ]
Isabel's vision was blurry, but she could still see the girl who had murdered her only ally, staring at her, until she turned and crawled a little further down the hall. Her thigh was throbbing with dull pain. She had not yet pulled out the arrow, but seeing as she was likely to die here, she didn't see the point in it. She peered down at her ruined leg. The wound was still red and wet, but no longer bleeding heavily. She looked back at the girl and her vision focused a little, allowing her to see the despair in the girl's terrified face.

She was feeling regret probably. But it was inexcusable. Isabel hated her more than words could express.

She wanted to yell and scream obscenities at her, make her feel lower than the worms in the ground, even physically attack her, but she felt like a limp doll. Her limbs were heavy and aching. Her head was still fuzzy and unfocused, like she was drunk.

She drew a deep shakey breath and spat a question at the girl.

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

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Fenrir
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Biting The Hand That Feeds
[ *  *  *  * ]
The silence stretched for long seconds as Alice sat there and it didn’t look as if the girl was going to do anything other than stare at her. She couldn’t help but meet the eyes that were trying to burn a hole through her, but from the glazed over quality and unsteady gaze of those eyes Alice wasn’t even sure the other girl knew what she was looking at.

Isabel turned away from her and looked instead to the arrow in her leg; unintentionally or not she drew Alice’s attention along with her and made her acknowledge the damage she had done. The arrow hadn’t gone straight through, possibly due to hitting bone or maybe because the arrows weren’t designed to do that kind of damage, but had still penetrated deeply into the girls flesh. Blood continued to pool out around the edges where the shaft met the skin and every time a new gush of blood escaped Alice felt a synchronous rising of bile in her throat.

She forced herself to look away lest she expel what little food she had eaten and add vomit to the mess of blood and gore that this hallway, and herself, had become. She returned her attention to the girls face instead, somehow thinking that would be better; it just made her want to be sick in a different way. Guilt clenched at her chest painfully.

Alice averted her eyes. Why was she still here? Her presence must be painful for the girl, as painful to look at as the dead boy’s body was for her. A reminder of what had occurred that was best never seen again.

When she looked up again she immediately met the other girl’s eyes. They were more focused now.

"Why the fuck would you do that?"

Any words that might come were frozen in Alice’s throat. She didn’t know what to say, how to respond. This girl wanted a reason; that was understandable, expected. But there was no reason other than blind panic and a desire to survive.

The way the question was worded, it made it sound like Alice had wanted to do this. Like it was a choice that she wanted to make, to stab and stab and stab at a boy who was beating her to death until he stopped.

Why… why would anyone want this?

“Y-you think I wanted to do that?”

Alice’s voice was shrill, filled with astonishment. More than anything her voice was loud; or at least louder than her voice usually was.

“I didn’t want this. I just wanted to be left alone.”

She should have just stayed in her room, or maybe tried to run when everything was quiet. Anything would have been better than confronting them like she had. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference or maybe it would have made all the difference in the world, she couldn’t know. Possibly she could have avoided all of this, or maybe… maybe it would be her corpse lying on the ground.

It was useless and frustrating to speculate, so she didn’t. Reality was bad enough.

The girl continued to stare at her, blaming her, condemning her. Alice deserved her hate, all of it. She had killed someone, a friend. Alice could never apologise for that, could never be forgiven. The least she could do was admit to the act, claim it and bear the weight of it.

But… she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. This outcome wasn’t only of her making. She hadn’t wanted this and the blame belonged to more than just her.

She pushed herself away from the wall and rotated her legs under herself. She lifted off the ground and sat on her knees, leaning forward towards the girl. Her hands pressed to the ground to support herself. There was urgency in her eyes as she spoke.

“H-he attacked me, he was beating me. I… you… you don’t know what it was like. There was so much pain and he just wouldn’t stop. You don’t know what that’s like to have someone doing that to you and realise he’s not going to stop until you’re dead, that this is how you are going to die. I just wanted it all to stop, I just wanted to make him stop.”

Her voice broke, cracked in her throat and made her last words hard to understand. Her eyes unfocused and her voice took on a faraway quality. “So much pain… he wouldn’t stop, no matter what I did he just wouldn’t stop. If I didn’t have that arrow I’d be dead now.”

Alice swallowed, a visible lump on the front of her throat. She seemed to remember herself and focused her eyes on the girls face again. She realised how far forward she was leaning and moved back to sit on her knees. Her hands pulled back to her lap and began to toy with the hem of her t-shirt.

“Don’t… don’t pretend he wouldn’t have killed me. D-don’t act like you wouldn’t have either, you were thr-threatening me earlier. If you had been attacked you would have done the same thing; anyone would have.”

She was silent for a while then, maybe a minute of so. In the meantime her hands continued to play with her shirt, unknowing of the fact she was marring the few unbloodied patches of material with the blood caked on her fingers.

“I can’t do this anymore. I didn’t want this; I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted to be safe. I just…” Alice glanced at the crossbow, forgotten on the floor beside her. “It was just supposed to be a bluff, I was never going to hurt anybody. I was just so scared, I’m scared, I’m scared now. I’m scared of you. You’re lying on the ground in a pool of you own blood and I’m just wondering what your going to do to hurt me.”

Alice’s fingers abandoned her t-shirt and moved to her hair, grabbing whatever had fallen in front of her right shoulder with both hands and running them down its lengths one after the other, straightening it out and smearing it with traces of blood at the same time.

“I’m scared. I’m scared. I’m not strong enough. I can’t… I-if this happens again I know I’ll do the same thing, I’m too scared not to. I don’t want to hurt anybody but… I don’t want to die. I don’t… I wanted to make it through this game as myself but I can’t. I’m not strong enough not to play this game; I don’t think anyone is. I don’t want to die.”

Alice had run out of tears; it was the only explanation for why she wasn’t crying right now. Nonetheless her eyes itched and burned with the effort of attempting to produce them, the expectation of them. None came, she had run dry.

“I don’t want to die…”
Program V3 Prologue
Michael Bair - Proud to be an American
Quote: N/A
Weapon: Brass Knuckles, Heckler & Koch FABARM FP6 Entry
Location: N/A
Status: Alive

The Departed
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crabCaptain
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The Captain of Crabs (Not the crotch kind)
[ *  * ]
The girl rambled on for what seemed like an hour. Isabel's hearing was returning from dull mumbling to a sharp understandable sound. The final thing she heard from the confused and scared girl was "I don't want to die..."

No shit. No one wants to die.

"No one wants to die." Isabel grumbled.

She rolled over onto her side.

"I can't stand you, you know."

She put one hand over the arrow in her thigh, wincing as her fingers brushed the cold metal shaft.

"You fucking killed my only hope in this fucked up game, and you put an arrow in me."

Wrapping her bloodied hands around the bolt, she gave a cry of pain as the arrow shifted around in the tender flesh surrounding the wound.

"But you know what? I feel bad for you. You made a shitty decision that cost you another ounce of innocence."

This girl had hurt her badly, and murdered her only ally. She hated her. But she wanted her to understand something.

Isabel tugged the arrow slightly.

"You killed my ally, and I'm probably going to be finished off with infection or blood loss thanks to you."

She wrenched the projectile from her leg, letting out a roar of agony that she felt shake the walls.

"Make better decisions. Don't shoot people in the leg, or any body part for that matter."

Tossing the arrow at the girl with a weak flourish Isabel sat herself up on her backside.

"I threatened you because you threatened my friend. Don't act big if you can't even deal with the consequences of your actions. You killed someone and injured another, and you're just shedding all the blame and responsibility on others."

She spat at the girls feet.

"Get the fuck out of here so I can die alone, you bastard."

((Isabel Continued in Support Group for Bleeding Children))
Edited by crabCaptain, Dec 4 2014, 05:42 AM.
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Fenrir
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Biting The Hand That Feeds
[ *  *  *  * ]
Isabel grumbled something under her breath but Alice, too caught up in her own misery, didn’t catch them. Still, the sound of her voice got Alice’s attention and she focused on the girl before her, watching as she repositioned herself on her side

"I can't stand you, you know.”

The sudden words took Alice off guard. Even though she knew they were coming, knew what the girl must think of her, the pure sentiment behind them stunned her; she had expected those feelings to be flung at her in anger and understandable rage, instead they were said in a calm voice that made them feel that much heavier.

"You fucking killed my only hope in this fucked up game, and you put an arrow in me."

Shame heated her and guilt weighed her down. Once again the simplicity of the statement struck deeply.

She couldn’t bear to look in the girls eyes anymore, so she allowed her gaze to follow the girls arm down to the where the arrow protruded from her leg. She watched as the hand tightened its grip around it, watched as the arrow shifted inside the wound and heard the cry of pain.

It was a terrible thing to see, but it was still easier to look at that what feelings were contained in those eyes.

"But you know what? I feel bad for you. You made a shitty decision that cost you another ounce of innocence."

Innocence.

Before all of this had happened Alice supposed she would have considered herself an innocent person. She had never hurt anybody nor had she ever thought of hurting somebody. She had never committed a crime; never had she even got into trouble at school.

But she didn’t believe that anymore. She didn’t believe that somebody lost innocence by committing the kinds of acts she had carried out in this game. Surely somebody who could do what she had done was never innocent to begin with, right?

"You killed my ally, and I'm probably going to be finished off with infection or blood loss thanks to you."

Alice hadn’t intended to kill with that arrow, she had only wanted to scare them and at the same time prevent Isabel from coming any closer. The leg had seemed like the best choice at the time, but seeing now how much blood continued to pour forth it seemed like Isabel really was going to die because of it. Alice didn’t want anyone else to die because of her mistake.

Suddenly, Isabel ripped the arrow free from her leg, letting out a roar of anguish that chilled Alice to the bone and wiped all others thoughts from her mind. She stared in wide eyed horror at the bloodied and gore covered arrow in the other girl’s hand.

“Wh-what… WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

You couldn’t just tear an arrow free like that. They were designed not to be so easily removed; they were designed to cause more damage if you did something like that. In doing so Isabel would only widened the wound in her leg and hasten the bleeding and her death; is that what she wanted?

She threw the arrow at Alice with a limp gesture. What that her goal? To rip free the arrow Alice had shot her with and throw it at her just to spite her? Did she hate her so much?

Already the blood seemed to be coming faster, the flow thicker, the stream wider. She had to stem the bleeding now if Isabel was to survive. But, Alice couldn’t mover, she daren’t move. It was obvious that the other girl would not accept her help and even now Alice was still scared of her, of the sword which was still by her side and how easy it would be to use it.

Isabel spat at her, the spittle landing near the bloody, discarded arrow.

"Get the fuck out of here so I can die alone, you bastard."

It shamed her, it was a cowardly thing, but Alice couldn’t sit here and watch another person die because of her.

Instead of staying and trying to help, trying to talk, she averted her eyes to the floor and stood. Clutching her crossbow to her she walked away, stepping over the body of James Houlihan and continued till she reached the door to the room she had occupied earlier.

She packed her things and prepared to leave. She would find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

((Alice Young continued in Discordant))
Edited by Fenrir, Dec 15 2014, 09:17 PM.
Program V3 Prologue
Michael Bair - Proud to be an American
Quote: N/A
Weapon: Brass Knuckles, Heckler & Koch FABARM FP6 Entry
Location: N/A
Status: Alive

The Departed
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