Leila let out an impatient sigh as Nathan finally
finished up with her feet. What was so complicated about it? Something like that would've taken her Mom less than a-
She hadn't thought about home for a while.
The others argued amongst themselves for a while, as Nathan wandered back to them in an attempt to calm down the situation, leaving her mind to stew in the memories she had of her family. Her parents worked at the local hospital, where they both met 2 years before they married and had their one and only daughter - the bowl of sunshine that she'd become. Looking back, she knew she'd had it good. Really good, actually. If she compared her life to the average student's, she'd easily come out covered in the smell of middle class snobbery. She even had a nanny when she was younger, which, okay, was her mother's attempt at being a working mother, but still, she had a nanny
. Not many people could afford those, could they?
Whenever she felt like this, she'd remind herself that she'd had her fair share of problems too, especially once her mother quit her job to focus on caring for her. It was at this point that Leila started to develop her most unpleasant traits - spending money she didn't have, going out to clubs and bars when she was clearly under age, and the best one of all: how to manipulate people into giving her what she wanted. It didn't matter if they needed the money more than she did, or that the top they were wearing was a birthday present from their grandmother. If she wanted it, she got it. No exceptions.
Then she happened to glance up at the boys, as they bickered on about the do's and don't's of waving guns in people's faces. Specifically, she happened to glance up at one
of the boys in particular. He looked so scared, so confused. Obviously, he was the weak link of the gang, the nervous mumbler who stood behind them as they decided whether or not to shoot a guy who hadn't even done anything wrong. See, that's what separated herself from the boys. If she had a gun, she wouldn't even have to use it. If she
had a gun, everyone else would drop theirs, because they knew that she wasn't the kind of person to let a situation like this go by without trying to grab a piece of the action.
Leaning forward, she took a good look at the state of her feet, then turned to the pair of flip-flops she'd been so kindly given. She touched the soles of her feet with the tips of her fingers, feeling the sticky blood still oozing slightly beneath the bandages. Pressing just a little too hard, the red seeped through the gauze and pasted itself to her skin. Her eyes stared intently at the blood as she squished it in between her index finger and thumb, before switching over to the image of Brook standing just far away enough from the others for her plan to work.
She stood, wincing as she strapped her feet into the almost-sandals, then walked on over to the boy who was now giving her an intense look of disgust. His pupils contracted, locking on to the patches of red on her hands. He lifted the gun slightly - he was far too nervous to be handling a gun, she thought. With her hand raised in front of her, she reached out for his face, sticking and un-sticking her fingers as the blood began to dry. His hands shook, trembling at the sight of it. He looked like he might use the gun, he looked fevered and mad. She smiled, baring her teeth, then lunged forward, wiping the blood down the side of his face as he shrieked and cried out in hysterics. Now! Using this opportunity to wrestle the gun free of his hand, she pushed him back against the wall, then aimed her gun at the others, who now looked very
Nobody said a word (aside from Brook, who wouldn't shut the fuck up
), as she made her way forward, towards the other side of the tunnel. Their guns were aimed right back at her, but she made them move aside. Her
gun was pointed at their friend - the one she'd marked. If they tried to get in her way, she'd make sure they'd need a new fourth member. And slowly, terribly, they each put down their guns, not wanting to risk the life of one of their own. If she hadn't seen it herself, she'd have called it fucking typical. Pack mentality was something every guy shared, whether they admitted it or not, and right now it was losing them one of their ever so precious weapons. Diddums.
Eventually, nervously - she could feel her frantic heartbeat pulsing wildly in the wounds of her feet - she made it past the group and on to the other side, her gun trained of every one of them now.
"I know, right? Big shocker everyone, Leila's a backstabbing bitch."
She laughed dryly, shaking her head as though she was disappointed in them for taking her this far.
"But hey, don't blame me. That's the name of the game; survival of the fucking fittest. You know? And yeah, I'm feeling pretty fit right now; really fucking fit. I owe you one, Nath, I really do."
She cocked the trigger gently, giving it a slow, painful squeeze. Her finger twitched as it stuck there for a moment.
"But you heard that guy - the fat fucker on the video. Only one of us gets off this island alive."
She gave them all the sweetest smile, while her tongue balanced delicately on her last few words.
"And that, my boys, is yours truly."
Backing away from the flowerheads, she kept her gun in plain view, for all of them to see, until she turned the very last corner of the longest tunnel in the world.
((Leila Langford continued in Heartbeat Symphony
-All GM'ing permitted by MK Kilmarnock-