((Exiting with confirmation from Fioriboy that Jenna would not stop Cassidy from leaving))
Cassidy scrambled away from the balcony, sliding like a crab back into the door, her wrists catching the carpet again. She cursed.
He couldn't be dead... no. After a fall like that, he couldn't be alive. Not a chance in hell. It was her fault. Her doing. Her clumsiness. Her selfishness. Her actions. Her reactions. Her unnecessary desire to welcome all of these nice kids to the island with hugs.
David was dead. David who was some kind of swimmer. David who had also grown up in, been born and gotten raised in Seattle. David, who she'd known on a friendly enough level. Dead.
She'd dealt with death before. Not at all like this, but she at least had some kind of experience. She'd never had to deal with a death she'd played a hand in. This was so fucking stupid. Why didn't she just continue on her way once they said, "No Matt here."? Why couldn't she have just watched her fucking steps? Why did she have to escape the quick death David had just been stuck with?
Was she a killer? She was responsible, that was undeniable. She was regretful, she was feeling guilt, but was that burden of blame enough to redefine her?
She was paralyzed. Her body was so heavy, her limbs so weak. The room was spinning, and David's spirit would join them soon to curse Cassidy for her idiocy. Her fingers gripped at the floor, she wished she could stop everything. Bring everything, time itself, to a halt. If she could do that, maybe she could start to turn things back.
Screaming was behind her. All her senses seemed to have gone numb, the loud shouts weren't understood. She turned slowly, not ready to let time return to its standard speed yet.
Turn time back just a minute. Maybe a few days so she could get the trip cancelled. Maybe she could-
Yukiko had tears in her eyes, and a giant, automatic, murder machine held out in front of her, directly at Cassidy. Cassidy's adrenaline kicked in, time was moving forward, and it was accelerating at an alarming pace. If she couldn't keep up, she'd be dead or responsible for another death by the end of the day.
Cassidy replayed the scene in her head. What HAD happened? She replayed it again. Again. Shorter. Faster. Again. Shorter. Closer. Back up. Remember everything.
Where did she hit him, why did she hold eye contact, what was he saying that was so interesting she couldnt look to see where she were going?
"...I wonder they really would
blow us all up.
if we go 24 hours
without a kill
Slip. Thump. Snap.
Whether they would or they wouldnt. One thing was for sure. There were twenty four more hours from this point on. Maybe more deaths in the next twenty four would extend that deadline farther away. There was no saying.
But she had an idea now, at least. No more fearing that she might blow up any second given she didnt know the exact time of the start. She had twenty three hours, fifty four minutes, and about fifty nine seconds before she had to worry again.
She had time until then.
Not much, but she would just have to rush.
Matt had to be found.
She wasnt ready to die.
The Japanese friend in front of Cassidy, with tears in her eyes, pointed her weed-whacker with circular saw attachment down at her.
Another girl was trying to get in her face, her tone sounded like she was threatening her.
She stood up calmly, arms at hip level and open to show she wasnt trying to do anything but leave. She let her hands fall too her sides as she moved for the door. Her hand caught the open zipper of her duffel bag. Her weapon was still at the scene after that mess. Whatever. Wasnt going to help with anything anyway, aside from validating her harmlessness.
She spoke to the room. Her walk was brisk. Saying sorry would be like putting a band-aid on a decapitation.
She closed her eyes and took a desperate breath to calm herself down before leaving the room. Her eyes stayed closed tightly as she rubbed the sides of her ears, trying hard to process and think. She turned away before looking up, opening her eyes, and starting forward with a near run pace towards the stairs shed come from.
There was a boy sprawled out on the floor. Cassidy held her breath, gripped her bag, stepped between his legs and leapt over his torso. He wasnt Matt, and she didnt have time to process who he was or why he was there.
She landed, took a few more steps, and pushed open the door to the stairs. She wasnt even crying. Mourning something as spontaneous as Davids death was to waste the time his life had bought them.
continued in We've All Been Sorry, We've All Been Hurt