Ian blinked at the people who were surrounding him. Ridiculous, really, how people were acting -- people, risky, untrustworthy. Always after themselves, all filled with emotions, all clunky and in the way. Ridiculous. Ian watched the action unfolding before him like it was happening on a screen, feeling both present and absent, real and unreal. He knew he had been better off yesterday -- yeah, he was the only watching his back, but he wasn't putting his trust into anyone else, wasn't fooling assuming he could grasp at their emotions. Here were prime examples of the idiots from his class and their bumbling antics in the game -- attacking each other and screaming and kicking and killing. Pointless. Anger would get them no where, would make them messy. Ian couldn't trust messy people. Messy people never got far.
He stood up as the others left, watching them go and reminding himself that he was better off yesterday. There was an urge, strangely, to follow -- to continue to hear the voices of other people, the quiet drone of their presence. It was comforting, maybe, but the risk was higher than the reward, and if Ian was going to live there could be no risk.
He turned around, saying nothing, and sprinted away from the scene. He didn't need anyone else. He'd be fine -- he'd be better than fine. And he'd certainly be better than the emotional idiots he'd wound up with.
((Ian Valmont continued in All Things Come to an End