((Anna Chase continued from Later Buddy))
She had attempted to find her way back to the shack, in hopes of finding Eiko and/or Aston there. But she had been unable to find her way over. The forest seemed to twist and bound, making things even more confusing than they already were. She knew she wanted to find it, but it wasn't showing up. Maybe if she had a map or GPS or compass or something....
A loud babbling sound soon met her ears, and before she knew it...
Okay, she was on the right track. Here she was, back at the stream and old willow tree. The one where they had ran into Rachel, Marty had woken up, and... oh jesus, that one announcement where everything went to shit even more.
Feeling herself tremble as the memories surfaced for a brief moment, she quickly shrugged them off. Well, she was somewhere nearby. It couldn't help not to rest, could it?
Placing her bag and new shovel against the tree, she went over to the stream, and within seconds had started splashing water against her face.
Come on, wake UP!
Her face, hair, hands, and dress had become dripping with water. Come on, she had to be alert! She didn't need to think about such things! She needed to be alert! Up and at-
There we go.
Chase dragged herself back to the tree, and placed herself back on the ground, arms wrapped around her knees. Well, at least she cooled down and was alert now. It didn't really help much with the situation, but there you go.
The memories of the past few days still surfaced in her mind. It was all a blur, but they were there. Everything from waking up at the fairgrounds while blinded to watching Marty die had permanently stained themselves on her memories. There was no doubt about that. She wasn't sure if there was any way she could forget about them. No matter what she did, her thoughts looped back to one or another horror she had personally witnessed.
Sad thing was, it was time to admit it. She wasn't coming home. Even if she did... she was going to be like those guys in the army, who never really left the war and spent all their lives trying to survive even existing. Despite the fact that she had just realized it, that by itself didn't unnerve her. Her mind still stayed the relative calmness it had before, or at least as calm as you could get given the situation. But, she wasn't an army guy. She was still Anna Chase, right?
Or at least, so she claimed.
Let's get philosophical here for a second. At what point would she stop being Anna Chase? Heck, she had already been somewhat confused about how things were before she came here. God, that was so long ago, wasn't it? All she really had to worry about was her relationship problems, actually. And that seemed like even more of a blur than the things she had gone through while here.
She didn't want to think about them, or what she'd gone through. Instead, maybe actually trying to survive would do wonders. Maybe if she started a fire... maybe that would get her mind off of all this death and carnage.
Within half an hour, Chase had found a wide variety of sticks nearby. Thick, thin, all you could ask for. Okay, wood gotten. Now just place it into that pile, and...
Start a fire.
She had a basic idea on how to start a fire. She wasn't an outdoor person. Heck, she hated the outdoors. But, she knew how. Friction equals heat equals fire. Simple, right?
Well, it wasn't that easy.
Chase tried all sorts of ways to make it work. Rubbing one between her hands, rubbing two together... she thought this was going to be easy. She had seen people do it before, and she was sure that she could do it. Right?
But after about half an hour, Chase simply slammed the wood back into the pile, a loud CRACK as one of the sticks broke into two. She... couldn't do it. Burying her hands back in her face, she suddenly felt like crying again.
Nothing was working out, was it? She was stuck here, on this hellhole, and there was no way for her to get out of here without a body bag, if she even had that liberty. Everyone she knew was getting murdered, and despite the fact that she wasn't the one doing the actual killing, well, she felt like she was in some way responsible. Heck, she was responsible in some cases.
And now she couldn't even make a fire to keep herself warm at night.
She felt another shiver run up and down her spine.
After she lifted her hands from her face, she found herself staring blanking at the pile of wood. Actually, there was a chance that she could make a fire, wasn't there? She just... needed to find the right technique.
And so she went back to work, hands still trembling as she fiddled with the wood. Had to be a way...
No, even after another hour, she still couldn't do it.
Chase sighed, rubbing her forehead. This wasn't working out. She was going to have to sleep in the cold, and hopefully she would find a warm spot. As usual. Maybe she could find some kind of shelter before nightfall, but already it was getting late. So it really was best to stay here.
The only thing she could really think of for the wood she had piled up was to make little voodoo dolls and hang them from the tree like in... the Blair Witch Project, was it? Oh god, now she couldn't even remember movies from before that well, and yet she could remember that despite people telling her it was stupid, she actually liked it. In a way, these woods kind of reminded her of it. God, so comparing things to horror movies really was her way of dealing with things, then?
But, after a while, she gave in to temptation. Within a period of time, she had managed to make multiple voodoo dolls using the sticks and leaves from the willow tree, and had managed to hang them from the branches again using the leaves.
It was a waste of time, and frankly, it made her waste materials. Heck, she still didn't know why she gave into that urge. But at least she had made herself feel at home to some extent.
Chase plopped herself on the ground, using her one remaining bag as a pillow. And within a few minutes, she surprisingly quickly went to sleep.
Chase found herself bounding up the front steps of her home. It... seemed like she hadn't been here in forever! Now to take out the keys and unlock the door... here we go. She scampered in, removing her socks and shoes.
"Mom! Dad! I'm hooome!" she called out, but no response. They must not have been home right now. That was okay. She'd expected it, since the door was locked They'd be home soon, right? In the meantime, she could hang out, do her homework, go watch some movies, talk to her friends on IM or the phone, whatever. In any case, she was home, and now could rest.
But why was the television still on? Chase could see that it was currently broadcasting a pixelated "snowstorm" of sorts. Maybe the TV station was out?
Meh, might as well not bother with it.
Chase went towards the stairs, only to notice... was that blood? A thin trail of blood, coming down from the stairs. Her heart began to race. Oh god, why was there blood?
She found herself following the bloody trail upwards, and upon reaching the steps found that it lead to... her room? Oh jesus. What was happening?
The girl tiptoed towards the door, opened, and...
This wasn't her room. Her room was exactly what you'd expect from Anna Chase, or indeed any teenage girl. A few posters depicting monsters, a bed, some stuffed animals and figurines, a desk with a laptop. But this wasn't it.
Nothing was here. Just a long expanse of darkness. She continued to stare into it. Just darkness.
Wait, something was crawling by her foot. She looked down, only to find what appeared to be a bloody hand. Screaming, she tried to kick it away, only for it to latch onto her ankle. And it hurt! Chase continued to try to shake it off, only for a second hand to grab her other ankle. There was two of them now!
Chase continued to scream, and suddenly she was pulled to the ground. And quickly, she realized that she was being dragged towards the room.
"Nonononononononooooo..." she whimpered, tears running down her face and digging her nails into the carpet, but to no avail.
Within seconds, Anna Chase had been dragged into the darkness, and the door slammed shut.
And so she hurriedly woke up.
Lifting herself up into the sitting position, she rested her face in her hand. Another nightmare. Chase usually enjoyed nightmares. In fact, she enjoyed dreams in general. They were always interesting, and fun to have. Much different than what happened in every day life. But not the ones she had whenever she went to sleep these days. It seemed the same each and every time; go to sleep, something jumps out at you or drags you someplace or tries to kill you or screams at you about how much of a failure you are or something. Just about every imaginable thing had happened to her while she was sleeping. And really, that wasn't an exaggeration. Torture, killed, eviscerated, eyes being gouged, various people getting killed in front of her, you name it. Needless to say, the island was now reaching the point where she couldn't escape from what had happened, and what she was worried was going to happen some day, even while she was trying to sleep. It didn't help that she already had quite a morbid mind to begin with.
Still trembling a little bit both because of her fun little dream and the cold, Chase couldn't help but wonder. Did the army guys have something like this? Creepy dreams at every turn? She rubbed her forehead in thought. She knew bad dreams were a symptom of PTSD and trauma in general, but nothing like this.
It was still fairly dark out, with the stars and the dim light of the moon in its current phase being the only major sources of light. As she looked up, Chase's night vision quickly adjusted. What was those stick-like figures she was seeing- oh right. She had, for some reason, made Blair Witch style voodoo dolls, that she could recall. With that was supposed to be firewood. In hindsight, that was not only pointless, but completely stupid. When morning came, she was going to tear that stuff down.
Well, she might as well take a walk or something, to see if she calmed down enough to go back to sleep.
Chase stood up, and headed closer towards the stream. After removing her socks and shoes, she dipped her feet into the water.
It was a nice night out, to be honest.
A fair amount of stars in the sky. The moon was far from full, but it was still clearly visible. God, if it weren't for what she had been through this entire time, she could easily enjoy it.
It reminded her of that one night. The one where she and Jon had gotten back from prom and ate sandwiches under the stars. God, so long ago, was it? Even if it wasn't that long ago, sure felt like it.
There were many nights like this she could remember, actually. The memories were blurry, but were still there. That one fourth of July, where a friend of hers had the idea involving a bonfire, an illegal firework, and marshmellows. She'd tried to talk her out of it, but said friend had protested saying it was going to be cool. Needless to say, Dad was probably the most pissed she'd ever seen him in her life, but thankfully no one was hurt, and the only lasting damage was a black splotch that still remained on the side of the fence to this day. Or the time where she ended up trying to find someone's keys in the middle of the night while looking through a dumpster, which they themselves couldn't do because they had left town for the weekend. Thankfully, she found them quickly, and managed to sneak back home. Or that time when she ended up running around Minneapolis lost while still in complete cosplay gear.
Chase couldn't help but have a sad smile on her face. Those were the good old days, right?
Let's face it. She did whine a lot about it when she had it, but it was a pretty good life, that she could remember. She was fortunate that she had a loving family, made friends easily, lived in a good town, and mostly generally avoided trouble, with a handful of exceptions, sure, but nothing major until recently. Even if she got into trouble, it was usually because other people dragged her into things.
She knew it was gone now, though.
That was the truth. Everything had changed the minute she had gotten on that bus, even possibly before that.
As she gently waved her foot in the water and stared up at the sky, she thought a bit more.
Oddly enough, she had the feeling that if she had regularly interacted with Ben, Marty, Joshua, Aston, and Michelle under other circumstances, they could have been friends, right? Sure, Aston and Michelle hated each other, but...
There was still a world of possibilities that was no longer available to her.
It was reality. So many things that could have happened, and yet didn't. In another world, Anna Chase was still at home, possibly sleeping. In another world, everyone was still alive. In another world, there was no Survival of the Fittest.
In another world, Chase could have been happy.
God, it had been a while since she'd actually been happy, right?
Happiness was something one couldn't get easily here, after all. The only happy ones were people like Lombardi, who seemed to... well, adjust to the system quite nicely.
Wait, she could see an old figure. Up in the sky...
Chase removed the necklace Jon gave her from where she had hidden it, and let it dangle in the dim light.
"Look, Jon. I can see the bear again", she told it in a hushed voice.
She felt stupid talking to the necklace, but to be honest, it was the only connection to Jon she had. But there it was. The Big Dipper. It still looked more like a pan or ladle to her than a bear, though.
It was another sign of back home. No matter where you were, you always saw the Bearladle. Always. It showed up no matter what part of the world you were in.
Dear god, how she missed Jon, though.
Was he watching her right now, in some kind of afterlife? Was he proud of her? Ashamed of her? What would he think about everything she'd been through?
To be honest, she had no idea.
Chase was far from the girl who had asked him to prom, even before she had gotten on that bus. Heck, even she didn't recognize herself by this point. She knew who she was, but not what she was turning into. Oh great, she was getting philosophical about her identity again, wasn't she?
But it was true, though. She knew she had changed, but was it really for the better? She didn't think so.
This place changed you. It completely uprooted everything you knew about the world, and replaced it with death and carnage. That was fact. No doubt about it.
Her main regret, though, was, as she kept pointing out to herself, that she wasn't as good a girlfriend as he would have wanted.
What could she say? Well, she knew for a fact just how much her friends and family hated him. Brendan and Lexie seemed to think he was going to beat her up or something. He wouldn't do that, would he? Lexie in particular made it no secret that she wanted to gut him on the spot. Chase could remember the hushed whispers often given in her direction about him. She was never sure if Jon was ever aware about it, but they were there.
Wait, since this was being broadcasted all over the world... did this mean Lexie had been watching her at some point? What would she have to say as well? Did she even know? Did she even care? Heck, she must have been watching Brendan, at the very least. Although she always denied it, Chase was pretty sure that she was into him and seemed upset once it turned out he was into Erik.
Didn't help that Chase found herself constantly lying to his face, as well. It ranged from the standard "Oh, I'm fine. Don't worry about me" one would say with a smile despite having a horrid day, to pretty major lies.
Probably the biggest lie she had ever told him was about Dawne. She could remember that night, but only vaguely. It was like one of those episodes in a teen soap opera or something. She could remember hanging out with her, yes. It started out innocently enough. But then out came the booze. Dawne had brought it with her, and had pressured her into drinking with her, saying it was "fun". After a period of time, both of them were drunk, and...
Well, it didn't end so well. Chase had protested against drinking at first, but eventually gave in. She had thought it would be safe, since it was just the two of them. No biggie, not a big party or anything like that. Actually, it was a huge mistake. And if things had gone differently... well, a lot of things would be different, obviously.
Needless to say, neither of them knew what exactly they were doing. Things got a little awkward after that. What could she say? The morning after... well, not fun. Hangovers and awkwardness, at least on her end. The worst part, though... she knew Jon wouldn't approve. Poor guy would get upset if he ever found out what had happened between them.
Rekka too. Chase had always supported them being together. She knew how much that man adored her, and how she adored him in turn. It wouldn't go over so well, either. After what happened, she couldn't stand seeing them together at all. She didn't want to be in the way, and she knew that if he ever found out, the poor guy wouldn't be happy. Rekka would have been heartbroken, that was for certain.
Sad thing was, if people ever found out, they'd focus on the "obvious" implications. Sure, the "obvious" implications did pop up in Chase's mind afterwards, but that paled in comparison to the fact that she'd screwed at least four people over, herself included. And when she heard Dawne's and Jon's names on the announcement the other day... she freaked. Even now, she still felt responsible. Would things have turned out okay if that night went differently? She knew there was no use in going "what if" all the time; it had already happened. But, the thoughts kept popping up.
And to add insult to injury... there was that pot brownie incident with Brendan. Thankfully, it turned out okay, much better than how the previous incident went. Damn near gave her a heart attack, though.
Brendan! Brendan was a good friend of hers, that was for certain. God, he was basically one of the few friends she had left in this world overall. Jon, Rekka, Dawne, Ben, and Michelle were currently lying dead somewhere on the island, she knew that Marty and Joshua were now buried into the ground, Aston was on some revenge plot that was probably going to end in ruin, and there was no way to know if Lexie even knew what was going on.
And there was no way of her finding out if Brendan was okay, either. The only way to get any idea on his status was to hear his name on the Announcement, and no matter the context, it wasn't a good thing. It meant he either hurt someone or was killed, obviously.
Was he okay, though? She hoped he was. She wasn't sure if he knew anything about weaponry or survival or anything like that, but she hadn't heard his name on the announcements. That was a relief, but he could be bleeding on the ground somewhere, or getting attacked, or being tortured, or having someone like Lombardi after his blood, or-
She took a deep breath.
She just had to hope he was safe. Hoping did nothing, she had learned that a long time ago. But maybe some day she would see him again. Would he still be her friend, though? He must have changed, just like she did! Maybe he was some kind of badass. Maybe he was some kind of psycho, like the people in Higurashi or like Jason. Maybe he was just like her, scared, confused, lost, and lonely.
Heck, he might have even joined a group similar to that SADD thing Jon told her about! People had tried to escape last time, right? But no one knew what happened to them. It was a mystery, apparently. Chase both loved and hated mysteries. On one hand, mysteries made life a little more interesting. After all, knowing everything had to be boring. On the other, mysteries left things open to the imagination, and thus their fates were left to the most morbid of things Chase could come up with. She didn't know much about the last time, but apparently there was a guy who wore a smiley face mask, like a slasher villain? Maybe he picked them all off like in her favorite movies, like two people were screwing, another person was doing pot, another person just so happened to be black, another person ran off by themselves...
She smiled for a few seconds, amused by her own mental image. To be honest, guys running around in smiley face masks and killing people would have made all this shit a lot more interesting and hilarious.
Chase stopped smiling, however, when she applied that mental image to Brendan being slaughtered with a machete by some psychopath wearing a smiley face mask. It... stopped being funny, right then and there.
She really did hope she was okay, though.
Heck, to be honest, if Brendan didn't have Erik and she didn't have Jon at the time, they would have made a cute couple-
WOAH. There did that thought come from? Just right out of nowhere. She wasn't in love with him or anything! He was her friend. Her FRIEND. Nothing more or less. There was no reason for her to want to be with him, okay? Even if she was, he wouldn't be into her. He was into Erik. And they made a cute couple, too. She wasn't just saying that because she had a secret fondness for yaoi and guy-on-guy, either. They genuinely seemed to work together, you know? And she had already ruined at least two relationships in kind of this way, soooo...
Not into Brendan.
Are we clear?
He was just a good friend of hers.
Honest to god.
That was the truth.
Speaking of Erik. Maybe they ran into each other. Maybe they huddled up next to each other, trying to keep each other warm and to keep each other from freaking out. Maybe they hugged each other, making sure that they never let go, that they spent their last minutes together...
She smiled once again. That was a nice mental image. Just them caring for each other.
Maybe it was time for her to go back to sleep, though. After all, she didn't want any weird thoughts like that popping into her head again. Chase was already feeling tired again, anyways.
Placing the necklace back into her bra and grabbing her socks and shoes, she headed back to the tree. After placing the shoes next to her head, she lied down once more, her head again on her bag.
Hopefully she won't have another nightmare....
Chase's eyes flicked open to see a most horrible sight.
Maxwell Lombardi. He was probably the most charismatic boy at school. Really, what was there not to like about him? Smart, multi-talented, confident, had a way with words, attractive... something about him made you want to believe anything he told you, no matter how unbelievable. Yet despite all this, Chase had found out the hard way that he was, to put it simply, a self-absorbed prick. The whole "running around killing people thing" didn't do much to improve his image, either.
And now he was here. He was here, standing over her with a gun pointed at her head.
And he didn't look so good, either. He was covered head to toe in blood, the red fluid staining his white jacket and contrasting beautifully yet horribly against it. And the look on his face wasn't a welcoming one, to say the least.
"Oh god, please don't hurt me..." Chase murmured, staring up at the Englishman.
"Why not?" he smirked back, but...
What appeared to be a laser beam blasted towards Maxwell, hitting him in the jaw. Chase quickly sat up, only to see that Maxwell was now... a rabbit? Yes, a cute tiny little brown rabbit with red highlights, currently sniffing the gun he once held. She turned towards the source of the laser, and smiled.
"JOJO!" she yelled, running up to hug the giant anthropomorphic rabbit wearing an orange superhero cape.
Yes, Jojo. Jojo the flying rabbit. Her childhood imaginary friend, who was a superhero that turned bad guys into rabbits. He had come to save her!
"Don't worry, Chase! I defeat ALL bad guys in the WORLD! It's my duty, right?" the rabbit said triumphantly.
Chase couldn't agree more. Every killer on the island would be better off as a rabbit!
"Let's go fight crime, then?" Chase said, and the superhero nodded.
"Good! Now get on my back, and we shall fight ALL who oppose us!"
Chase climbed onto the rabbit's back piggy-back style, and off they went into the sky.
Oh look, Nancy Wainright, happily enjoying her bag, eh? You make a nice Holland Lop! Or what about you, Nick Reid? Can't stab people when you're an Angora! Rasputin? Made an adorable dwarf rabbit, simple as that.
As they floated through the sky, they continued to turn various killers into rabbits. RJ Lowe was turned into a small black and white bunny. Clio Gabriella became a rabbit with brown and white splotches. Reiko Ishida turned out to be a nice Flemish Giant.
The killers made better rabbits than killers, that was for certain.
Chase then woke up again and sat up, rubbing her head.
Well. At least it wasn't another nightmare, right? Besides, Jojo was the best imaginary friend she could have. Sad thing was, though, he was imaginary. If there really was a superhero that could just turn all the bad guys into rabbits, then that would be awesome. But there wasn't. Ah well. What could she do?
But damn it. Did she need to wash up. Chase had just realized that she had basically been wearing the same clothes for days on end. That wasn't good. Her clothes had been itchy this entire time, and she hadn't thought to change them because of all the chaos. Without warning, Chase slid everything off. Maybe she could take a bath in the stream, too?
But... the stream had a lot of things. Streams weren't good bathing water, were they?
Actually, she had already drank from it, splashed herself with it, and put her feet in. She was already doomed to get some kind of disease anyways. The last thing she should be worrying about was whether or not she'd get ill.
So off she went to the stream, and as best as she could tried to clean herself up. The cold water felt nice against her body, didn't it?
After about half an hour of trying to get herself clean, Chase slid out, soaking wet from the water. As she went to her bag, she attempted to dry herself as best as she could.
Chase, however, was only barely able to get a fresh bra and panties on before they started again.
She really hated Danya. Not only did he send them here, but he also laughed and laughed at everything. Everything. It was horrifying and annoying and it really upset her.
Her heart started to race as the announcement went on.
JJ Sturn had died. Someone had gotten beaten with a chair. Marty's death was described. And-
"Brendan Wallace joined the good list, putting a fatal bullet into Steven Hunt. Touching last words to Mr. Hunt. I'm sure the academy was pleased."
No. That had to be another joke, had it? It was a joke. Or maybe it was another bad dream. It had to be a bad dream!
Chase barely listened, simply standing on the spot partially naked and horrified. She only barely managed to register that Polanski and Madelyn Prowers, nice, friendly Madelyn Prowers, was dead.
No... please... no...
He couldn't have.
Images of Brendan passed through her mind.
The Brendan she had met that day in the cafeteria by chance.
The Brendan who she and Erik Laurin had gone to see a movie with.
The Brendan who she had a movie marathon with.
The Brendan who she had last seen on the bus.
That wasn't her Brendan. Her Brendan wasn't a murderer, right? He wasn't the kind of person who would shoot someone, wasn't he? He wouldn't! It was a trick! He would never do something like that!
He wouldn't. He wouldn't.
The announcements came to a stop.
Chase collapsed to her knees, feeling herself starting to tremble again. And suddenly, a few sounds came from her mouth. She wasn't even sure if she was laughing or sobbing. It was all so useless.
Brendan was a killer. He killed someone. Brendan. Shot them. No, he flat out killed them.
Tears slid down her face as she replayed the announcement in her mind, the sounds continuing. She... she...
Had nothing left.
What was there for her? She wasn't ever coming home, and everyone was either dead or off their rocker.
Lifting her head, she noticed a camera in the branches of the willow tree, looking down on her. They were watching every moment of this, right?
Opening her mouth, she tried to think of something to say, but could only come up with-
"... Go fuck y-yourselves. Seriously. I don't w-want to play in your sick d-d-death fetish. Because... I..."
Her hands raised to her neck. Her collar. She could easily tug it off and end this nonsense once and for all. She'd see her friends again, and she'd no longer be hurting. She'd be free for the first time in a while.
"I choose not to play. I don't w-want to h-h-hurt anyone, and I don't want to be hurt anymore."
She forced a smile on her face.
"Goodbye. Hope you get off on this."
Chase closed her eyes, her hands still touching the collar. How hard would she have to pull? Would it hurt? How long before she actually died from it? How big would the explosion be?
Only one way to find out.
She mentally prepared herself. Chase was going to see all her friends again. That was a fact. She'd no longer be in pain, and all her problems would be solved. Easy. It was as easy as just tugging this off...
Any minute now.
She couldn't do it.
No really, she couldn't.
Chase threw her hands away from her collar, making a loud sob as she did so. She couldn't just end it right there. Despite everything, some part of her still wanted to live. She couldn't go through it. Was she really so much a coward that she couldn't kill herself even when she knew she didn't stand a chance?
She crawled towards the tree, and, placing her back against the trunk, she pulled herself up into a ball.
Chase wished she wasn't here. She wished everything was fine. That she still had all her friends. That one day she could be happy. She asked for nothing more in the world.
And now... she could have very easily lost Brendan, too.
What was there to do, now that dying apparently wasn't an option?
What would everyone who had died want her to do?
It wasn't an easy question. Did any of them think about her before she died?
She thought of Marty running towards Nick. He had nothing left too, right? He had lost his friend and that girl. She had seen that grave already dug. So why did he choose to go out like that? Honor, so that people wouldn't think he was a coward? Or-
It hit her.
He thought she was in danger.
He, in what was to be his last moments, thought that she was getting hurt and tried to save her life. He knew that he was at rock bottom, but he tried to save her.
She knew what to do now.
What Chase had just realized, you see, was the true way to "win" Survival of the Fittest. The goal of the game wasn't to kill as many people as possible, be the last one standing, or anything else Danya and his buddies tried to feed them.
No, the true way to win this game?
Stay a good person. Try to fight for survival.
It was that easy. It didn't matter whether you lived or died. All that mattered was... to stay who you were. Simple. To live and fight for those who had died. There was nothing she could do about Jon, Dawne, Rekka, Ben, Michelle, Marty, or Joshua, but she had to live, just to honor them. And those who did live...
Although the viewers at home probably did not notice, within those few minutes a slow but steady transformation occurred.
As Chase pulled herself out of the ball, she crawled over to the bag, and reminded herself to put some clothes on. Sliding a dark blue tank top and a black skort on her body, she knew what she had to do.
It didn't matter whether or not he was still the nervous guy she had befriended at the cafeteria that day. All that mattered was that she saw him again, that she made sure he was safe.
And she wasn't going to cower behind other people, either. That was a good source of her problems recently. She had cowered behind other people, and wasn't able to defend herself, not even against Nancy. She knew that she had to fight, though. She was going to die, but she had already decided she wasn't going to kill herself, after all.
In fact? She was going to die with style.
Maybe she would die in an arm wrestling match with Brooks, or would have a fight to the death with Ishida. But one thing was certain, she had made her choice; she wasn't going to die here crying and sobbing, partially naked and surrounded by voodoo dolls. She was glad that she had changed her mind. That would have been a sucky way to go.
As she slid some fresh socks, shoes and her fingerless gloves on and placed Jon's necklace back into her bra, she turned to the camera again.
"In case you haven't noticed... I changed my mind."
Yup, she had changed it. No doubt about it.
She thought of Jojo the Flying Rabbit again. He always chose to be a good guy, no matter what. Cats always tried to hurt him and his friends, and make the city a bad place. Chase hated cats. They meowed, hissed, and scratched. But Jojo, no matter what happened, always decided to stop them.
Anna Chase had made her decision. She wasn't a cat.
"Danya. Just so you know... you're a cat. I'm a r-rabbit. Cats al-always think they win... and for a while, they do. But, the thing about cats is..."
"They never win. Cats are just so ev-evil that they never realize it. Rabbits always win."
Chase knew that people at home were probably confused, but deep down, she knew one thing.
She was going to find Brendan. She was going to fight for once.
When it came time to die, she was going to do it with honor and style.
Anna Chase had made the decision. She was going to fight.
By mid-day Chase had decided to set out again, bag and shovel in hand. As she turned back at the tree, she noticed the makeshift voodoo dolls, although they were just falling apart, were still up.
But she had decided to leave them. Maybe they would be a landmark for her next time she came around.
And besides, now that she thought of it, she kind of liked them.
((Anna Chase continued in Sacrifice Sheep To GOD!))
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Making up most of the northern part of the island, the woods are deep and dark. Spreading second-growth trees, mainly fir and pine, block much of the light from reaching to the ferny undergrowth. Moss hangs thick from the branches, testament to the dank and moisture-laden air, while the occasional deer path shows that many animals still make this forest their home. These woods are those on the inland part of the islands eastern side, and slowly angle upwards towards the islands central mountain.* Threads Allowed: 4 *
Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This
- Joined: July 27th, 2009, 7:44 pm
Coming to a V7 near you.
Bree Jones- "I'm not exaggerating when I say that my fish are smarter."
Roxanne "Roxie" Borowski- "Next video? Oh man, tons of ideas, dude. Lemme get the makeup for that."
Coming to a V7 near you.
Bree Jones- "I'm not exaggerating when I say that my fish are smarter."
Roxanne "Roxie" Borowski- "Next video? Oh man, tons of ideas, dude. Lemme get the makeup for that."
- [+] spoiler
- In Loving Memory Of Those Killed In The 2008 SOTF
Carol Burke- Female Student #015- A good friend.
Remy Kim- Male Student #080- Yet another victim of the system.
Aileen Borden- Female Student #022- It's going to be okay.
In Loving Memory Of Those Killed In The 2012 SOTF
Alexandria "Alex" Ripley- Female Student #002- Sometimes your life is meant to be a warning to others.
Lana Torres- Female Student #039- Technically, she died happy.
Miranda Millers- Female Student #019- Doomed by self-fulfilling prophecy.
In Loving Memory of Those Killed in the 2015 SOTF
Jennifer Wallace- Female Student #055- Good night, and good luck.
Junko Kurosawa- Female Student #041- Experienced a thrill to die for.
Emma Luz- Female Student #022- Sweet dreams.
Anna Chase- Female Student #010- And then she lived happily ever after.
- [+] spoiler
For v6, I have come to a decision. To help lessen character pimping, I have vowed not to talk about my characters, any characters closely related to mine, or any threads I've been involved in, in any of the following places:
- General Discussion thread
- TV Tropes
- Random Thoughts
- Anything else I missed
I am not allowing myself to talk about anything relating to my characters or scenes I'm in unless they are brought up in conversation by another handler. I am not allowed to use my characters' names OOC or mention anything relating to that character until another handler mentions them. This is not currently in effect for pre-game; these self-imposed rules do not apply until v6 starts. However, they will be in effect the second v6 is announced. When one of my characters die, escape, or are otherwise removed from the game, these rules are lifted for that character, and I am free to talk about that character as much as I want. However, the others will have to wait until they too are out of the game.
This is a personal promise I'm keeping to myself for v6. If I break it, please feel free to bitch me out.
Addendum as of v6: I may ask for critiques while a character's arc is ongoing, as long as someone has offered to do so.
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