Save your own life

[gabrielle]

A one on one roleplay between Stone Fox and Gabrielle;

​

"This isn't torture.


Torture happens in small, dark rooms in countries with names you struggle to spell.


This is just mildly unpleasant.


This isn't heroism.


Heroism happens in churches that are also schools, performed by teachers with no names and no place to stay.


This isn't loss.


Loss happens on fields filed with poppies, in hospitals buzzing with flies, in distant deserts and late at night when there's no good reason for the phone to ring.


This is just longing.


This isn't important.


Important happens on bended knees and is breathed on last breaths with hands clutched tight, hearts tighter.


This is just a distraction." ↳ Pleasefindthis, The truth behind glass mountains.

Your oldest fears are your worst ones. Save your own life.


This was no accident.




"You cannot kill me here. Bring your soldiers, bring your death, your disease, your collapsed economy because it doesn't matter, I have nothing left to lose and you cannot kill me here. Bring the tears of orphans and the wails of mother's loss, bring your god damn air force and Jesus on a cross, bring your hate and bitterness and long working hours, bring your empty wallets and love long since gone but you cannot kill me here. Bring your sneers, your snide remarks and friendships never felt, your letters you never sent, your kisses never kissed, cigarettes smoked to the bone and cancer killing fears but you cannot kill me here. For I may fall and I may fail but I will stand again each time and you will find no satisfaction. Because you cannot kill me here." ↳ Pleasefindthis, The place I'm in.

Welcome to the island of Key Biscayne, Florida.
​

South of Miami you have the island of Key Biscayne. With clear waters, white sands, sunny days, and palm trees surrounding, how could you not enjoy the scenery? Coconut and palm trees stand with the island's lighthouses in abundance. Grasses soft in appearance border between the sand and the foliage, moving with elegance in the wind. There is a beautiful shoreline wherever you turn, Miami in the distance, and five miles of near seclusion here. Majority of the island is set aside with the protection of county parks, leaving a small portion for homes, and there aren't many. It's the perfection sectioned off from the rest of the world, holding its beauty for those who know of it.

Stone Fox's

​

Aster Hale. 25 years. 5'7"





Aster was born into a working class family in Cardiff. She was the only child of her family, and at the age of eight she witnessed her parents get divorced due to constant arguments concerning their financial situation. Aster stayed with her father because of her mother’s fascination with alcohol consumption and grew up in a household or strict rules and discipline. There was very little empathy from her father, who was a hardworking but very emotionally distant man who simply wanted his daughter’s safety and well-being. However, his obsession with protecting her and ensuring she would fare well was counterproductive and drove Aster away from him both physically and emotionally.


Despite that, Aster’s father had a plan, a good one. He knew a man, the owner of the business he worked for and he knew that the man had seen Aster several times. The girl had given a good first impression to the man, who was looking for a bride for his son. Arranged marriages had been out of fashion for a long time, but knowing that he could offer a better life and future for Aster, he struck a deal with the business owner without his daughter’s approval. In return, he was promoted and Aster, once she was eighteen, was invited to travel to America where her future husband, Thomas Hale, was living. The first time Aster saw him was on their wedding day at the altar and was shocked to find out that Thomas was a man bound to a wheelchair due to a genetic condition.


With their marriage came all sorts of perks: big house, nice cars, a new life in America, pretty clothes, shiny high heels, champagne from France… But while all of that was nice, it did little to resolve the tension between Aster and Thomas. Her feelings towards him were very mixed: she despised him for having agreed to marry her without her knowledge, but also felt that she couldn’t be angry or unpleasant with him due to his disability. In fact, it was his disability that made her tolerate the intolerable marriage with a man she had no feelings for, for the next six years. The majority of the time, Thomas was unaware that Aster harboured a deep dislike for him and swallowed her act and lies entirely.


The final straw, however, came when Thomas insisted on having a child. Aster agreed reluctantly to this, but behind her husband’s back she was making sure to get her dose of birth control each day without telling him. Getting pregnant and giving birth to his child, was out of question to her and she feared what she could and would do if a child did enter the picture. Thomas, thinking the problem was in him and his disability, eventually grew depressed from their failed attempts. From there on, their relationship has gone downhill, and the mask of happiness and peace that both have been desperately trying to keep up is about to fall.

Gabrielle's



​

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_06/8bf19cd4662098dc9135add164a73e5a.jpg.358702575b5daae82cbd5bbb59f3e6e0.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="54738" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_06/8bf19cd4662098dc9135add164a73e5a.jpg.358702575b5daae82cbd5bbb59f3e6e0.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Adrian Theo Rodell. 19 years. 6'0"

Early childhood to Adrian was nothing near perfection. He and his family, which consisted of only his mother and himself, resided in a small apartment. As things would go his mother would eventually find someone to replace the empty role in their lives which would play as a father and husband. After two years they were married, and Adrian was three at the time. Of course there would be those rough times found in life, but to a small child like Adrian things couldn't have been better. He was a happy child, blissfully unaware of his parent's arguments, the overdue bills, the nights spent with his step father being in a bar rather than with them... Yet you have to keep in mind that his world was made up of things entirely centered around things such as toys and if he could manage to have dessert for breakfast such as any child's life should be.


By the time Adrian was soon to be turning six years old, things had changed drastically. While she was out jogging early in the morning, Adrian's mother was killed in a hit and run. The death had an immense impact on him and his stepfather. It should be a given that with the death of his beloved wife, depression had fallen onto him. Adrian was too young to completely understand the circumstances of his situation, but one thing was very clear: his mother would never come back from that jog of hers.


After it had happened Adrian was brought from aunt to aunt, cousin, uncle, etc. It was nothing ideal for a child. A month of this had passed until Adrian was brought back to his stepfather. Depression seemed to rule his stepfather, and things couldn't have appeared bleaker whenever he'd been laid off from work. It may not have been the best thing to do, but that was when he seemed have reached his limits. He packed Adrian's things and brought him to a relative's home, leaving the six year old there after a long goodbye. The man Adrian had known for as long as he remembered had disappeared after that night.


Issues around custody over Adrian ensued, but in the end the matter was settled. Adrian went to live with his mother's brother, Marcus, who lived out in the country on the outskirts of Houston. Overall it was the good, stable environment that Adrian had needed, but of course a good home doesn't exactly mean those within it are happy. For reasons completely unknown to Adrian, Marcus became addicted to methamphetamine whenever Adrian was twelve years old. Being the child he was, of course Adrian didn't understand the odd behavior that quickly followed his uncle's addiction. Things had quickly deteriorated at that point from a suitable environment for a child to something that CPS would never tolerate. With an addiction to feed, it was only a year after Marcus had first became addicted that all of their horses were sold off as well as some of their acres of land and furniture. Marcus also met his wife, Brittany, in this year. She of course was also a meth addict with skills of cooking meth and prostitution. She provided a ways of income for the family with selling her body and drugs. It lessened the cost of Marcus' habit, and the family finally had some extra money.

At this age Adrian was starting to get a very clear understanding of what was going on in the environment he had to live in. With the way he could recite Brittany's meth recipe, how could he not know what type of situation he was in? Their house was a mess. It smelled like ammonia. They never seemed to have food. The people he lived with seemed to be entirely out of their minds. The list could go on. It gets a little hard to ignore the fact after two years, but even so, Adrian did nothing about it. He learned how to live without complaints and to take care of himself. It became as if he and the people he lived with were simply neighbors, not one household, and that was probably a more accurate description of their arrangement with the way he lived in the shed beside the house.
​

 

[Elernia]

She had had enough.


It just happened. One day she was living her glamorous life like nothing was wrong, sipping expensive drinks at a gala in a small black dress, and then the next day… The next day, she would wake up, so angry and so tired that she could hardly look at him in the eyes. She couldn’t help but to think just how funny the human mind was. You could trick it for years and persuade yourself to believe that everything was all fine and dandy, but there would inevitably come a day when your mind would simply disagree, when all the bullshit would finally appear as clear crystal, and hence completely unavoidable. Suddenly your life wasn’t just about the money and the expensive drinks. Suddenly, you felt a bit uncomfortable in that dress of yours, like it was choking you, killing you slowly. Yes. Kill. If you didn’t kill before it, you would surely be eaten alive by the sheer fury in your heart.


This was precisely what happened to Aster on a normal, warm summer morning while on a vacation in Florida with her husband. They had arrived the day before, welcomed by Thomas’ servants that were at his every beck and call. She was still not used to the lifestyle, even if she pretended to be. It simply made no sense to her not to carry her own suitcase from the car to the door of their vacation home. But for Thomas such physical effort was out of question, and she could understand that. She could understand why the maids and the butler were always flocking around him, but she despised all the attention she was getting. Most of the time, she preferred to do things by herself. Other people weren’t reliable, that was one thing her wretched father had taught her back in Britain.


As for the house, it was like all houses that Thomas’ family owned. Big, modern, unnecessarily flamboyant. What exactly was the point in having five bathrooms? It wasn’t like Thomas ever had overnight guests. In fact, he despised people who stayed over, unless they were family. At the same time, she really couldn’t complain. The house had a great view of a private beach, a nice large veranda as well as big windows so one could enjoy the sunrise while sipping their morning coffee. Three maids were taking care of them, along with Carl, Thomas’ favourite butler who travelled with him everywhere. Aster couldn’t stand Carl and she was certain that Carl couldn’t stand her. He saw through her, there was no doubt about it. Everytime she told a lie to Thomas, Carl made a strange face, one that anyone less observant than her would have a hard time noticing. He knew their marriage was going to hell, and yet Carl had done nothing about it, nor had he confronted Aster about her lies… provided he really knew the truth about her.


He must have known. Aster had seen him take out the trash from her private bathroom several times, and he must have noticed the birth control package in there. Thomas wasn’t as detail-oriented as Carl, but if that was the case, why hadn’t the butler said anything? It was puzzling to her and she quite honestly felt nervous around him. She knew that if something were to ever happen to Thomas, Carl would have to go with him. There was no other way.


But yes… that morning had been different. She opened her eyes and stretched in her massive, luxurious bed with dozens of pillows and silken covers. For some people, this was the definition of happiness. For her, it was a silken hell. She kicked the covers aside and walked into her private bathroom. In the mirror she saw a woman in her mid-twenties, with most of her life ahead of her. And yet there was pure hatred in her eyes, a hatred that nearly scared her when she stared into them. Something had changed during the night and something would have to be changed today. She could no longer go to bed as if nothing was bothering her, nor could she keep on lying to Thomas that she liked him. Truth was, she didn’t.


It wasn’t his appearance or his personality that bothered. No, it was something much more intricate than that, and she realized this as she dined with him that night, precisely at six in the evening, underneath the dining room chandelier. Thomas was five years older than her, a man in his thirties. He was going to age well and he would always have the strong, handsome facial features of his father. On top of that, he had manners and standards. He liked women who were down to earth, but who also understood his world… this world… the world filled with money, galas and dinner parties. Precisely because of this, Thomas liked her a lot and she was aware of that. He had shown his affection to her in many ways: gifts, romantic dinners, vacations and sex… But she had never wanted that in the first place, which meant that she simply couldn’t appreciate any of it. She didn’t love him back. She never had and she never would.


There were plenty of other reasons to hate him, such as his disability. It wasn’t the fact that he was the way he was, but due to the effect that he had on her through his disability. It was literally impossible for her to be honest with him because of his disability, as she feared that her straightforward words would make him crumble. Besides, he looked so helpless sitting there, cutting his steak while moving his mouth, probably telling her about another business deal. Whatever, she rarely listened. She just kind of stared at him and the way his mouth moved. Sometimes she would look at the way he cut his steak and say something along the lines ‘oh, that’s wonderful honey, but you should really use a different knife for the steak, or you’ll cut yourself’, accompanied by the sweetest smile she could pull off while hating his guts. Few people were like Thomas in this world; immune to her true nature, to her coldness. She simply couldn’t be cruel with him and it was killing her on the inside. In fact, Aster was convinced that this was his secret plan, to squash her slowly but surely so he could have his way with her. Carl must have told him about the pills… yes… he must have.


And then there was the fact that Thomas had said nothing to his father concerning the wedding. He could have stopped it, he could have prevented this god awful marriage. Yet… he had the audacity to ask for children. She was twenty-five for god’s sake. She could be doing so many other things, but instead she was stuck in this horrible gilded cage with a man she didn’t even dare raising her voice at.


There were so many times she recalled helping Thomas because of his disability. It was part of her everyday duties as his wife. Sex with him was… awkward, to say the least. She had tried to enjoy it, but there was no way around the inevitable. For all the hatred she had for him, she had always felt guilty, but tonight was different. Tonight she wasn’t staring at his mouth and the way he handled his knife. Tonight she wasn’t anxious about whether or not she needed to help him take a bath and then pretend to enjoy their sex. Tonight, her green eyes, filled to the brim with hatred, were staring down to her steak knife. The blade showed the reflection of the thunderstorm of emotions that took place inside of her. Meanwhile, Thomas dominated the conversation and was persuaded that she was still listening.


“… and asked me to fly to New York to seal the deal. Do you think that’s a fair deal, Aster?” Thomas asked her, finally looking up from his food, only to realize that he had indeed lost her during the conversation. And yet, she saved her face quite masterfully. Aster gave him a strained smile: “I don’t know, dear, you know I’m not a business whiz like you are.” She looked at him for a moment, tilting her head to the side before nodding towards the Italian wine on the table. “How about another glass? I just love the taste. Carl made an excellent choice, I must say.”


Thomas smiled back at her and poured himself a glass at her request. They dined in silence for another few minutes before he opened his mouth again. “I’ve been thinking a bit.” He told her. “I still want to try, Aster. There are ways you know, other ways. I want to explore our options a bit more before we completely give up.” She tensed in her chair but said nothing while she kept sawing her steak in half. Was he really that desperate? It did make sense, considering the business he and his father owned was a family business that had been passed down for generations. She understood why he would be anxious about getting a child, but she would never give one for him. Over her dead body. Aster focused on chewing her food while he went on and on about artificial insemination, yada yada ya. Suddenly she had an urge to shut him up by throwing something on him, but Carl was standing at the door of the dining room, staring blankly ahead but undoubtedly very much aware of the situation. “Ohh.” Aster cut off Thomas and fanned herself with her hand, shaking her head. “Darling, this is all very fascinating, but this wine is getting into my head. I hope you don’t mind if I excuse myself and get some fresh air?”


Without waiting for his answer, she plopped her napkin on the table, got up and walked out of the dining room, through their large living room and to the large glass door that led outside on the veranda. For Thomas’ sake she was wearing a nice and expensive green flowy summer dress, as well as a pair of heels. However, upon stepping outside and breathing in the salty scent of the sea in front of her, Aster kicked off her heels and decided to walk to the water. Underneath her bare feet the sand felt lovely, raw and real. Her life had become so dull lately that even simple sensations like these made her feel alive in such a strange way. Slowly the sand grew moist and soon enough, the soft waves licked the tips of her toes. This place was amazing and she wished she could have enjoyed it. Perhaps out here she could, at least for a moment, when Thomas wasn’t in her line of sight. The sea in front of her looked black and endless, and for a moment she considered throwing herself into its embrace and never coming back. To die at the hands of the sea… A simple ending to this horrible farce.


But she wasn’t like that. Aster didn’t want to give up on her life. She was going to deal with the unnecessary. Since this morning, her fucked up and angry little mind had been concocting different scenarios. Oh, how her hands itched to get to work. The moment she turned her back to the sea and her eyes to the house in front of her, she knew there was no going back.


Slowly, but with purpose, she walked towards the tool shack on their beach where various equipment was stored during the winter. The door creaked ominously when she pushed it open and cast a ray of light to the opposite wooden wall where an axe had been placed. Aster reached for the object and watched with both horror and fascination as her fingers eagerly wrapped themselves around its handle. The tool felt heavy once it was off the wall, but it was nothing compared to the weight she had been carrying since the day she had said ‘I do’.


She felt like a predator. Strong, quiet, powerful and in control, when she silently slid open the door of the veranda and placed one sandy barefoot inside. Green eyes looked left and right. Aster could hear the clinking of plates and utensils from the kitchen, as well as the sound of running water. Dinner was over and Thomas must have retired to his bedroom. One hand on the axe, she kept her eyes on the room around her while she made her way over to the kitchen. The maids were gone for the night, living in a small house outside their estate. Only Carl was around and she was able to confirm this by peeking into the kitchen and seeing him standing at the sink, his back to the door. Aster slipped past the kitchen door and headed upstairs where she could hear the TV. Thomas was watching the news in his armchair. She moved towards him, but froze when stepping on a loose floorboard, causing him to stir.


“Honey? Did you have a nice walk?” He asked without looking away from the television. She watched him lift a glass of wine to his lips. No. He would not have the pleasure of taking a final sip of that delicious Italian 1997 red wine. Without answering, Aster moved forward and took the axe in both of her hands before swinging it and slamming the blade into his shoulder. Thomas shrieked in pain and surprise, his body falling forward on to the floor and causing Aster to lose grip on the axe that was stuck in his shoulder. Quickly, she pushed the chair out of the way and grasped the handle once more before pulling her weapon out of his back with a sickening, wet ‘crack’. Thomas had just enough time to turn around and meet her crazed gaze before she struck the axe right into his skull. But that wasn’t enough. Once just wasn’t enough. Although he was positively dead after that, Aster continued to hit him, over and over again, until his upper body was an unrecognizable pile of red mush next to a pair of legs. She couldn’t bring herself to stop and found herself watching how her body moved on autopilot, striking her husband’s body as if determined to turn him into a slush of flesh, bone and blood.


Finally, she somehow managed to lodge the axe into his hip bone and could no longer pull it out. Her body collapsed on the floor, trembling, sweating, panting. She was having a hard time focusing her mind due to the overwhelming smell of her husband’s blood which was causing her head to spin and her stomach to turn. But then, she became alert as her eyes travelled to the door where Carl was standing, his eyes wide in shock. Aster got back up on her two feet and wiped hair out of her face, oblivious to the fact that every inch of her was covered in Thomas’ blood. She did feel strangely warm, but had yet to notice that her hands and arms were tainted with murder, and that the same guilt was spattered all over her dress and face. “I can explain.” She spoke in a dazed manner while her other hand reached for the handle of the axe. “I’m sorry. I know you hate it when I make a mess. It was necessary.” After a bit of struggling, she managed to crack Thomas’ pelvis open and thus release her axe. “You’ll forgive me, right?” She asked the butler, but lunged into a sprint as soon as he turned around and attempted to run away.


Aster caught him in the upstairs hallway, where she struck her axe into his neck, causing his body to slam against the wall and then slide down on the floor, leaving red stains on the expensive European tapestry Thomas had ordered a while ago. Aster found the markings quite beautiful and fascinating, like abstract art… but then again, Thomas had always been more of a classical art lover. He couldn’t understand anything abstract and spontaneous.


She pulled the axe out of his neck and stood still, her legs shaking while her eyes scanned his corpse. Somehow, she felt liberated, but another part of her knew that she was fucked up as hell, and that this wasn’t healthy. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to cry or scream in horror. She barely felt the need to shrug at what had happened. Their deaths felt so trivial, but it was the act itself that terrified and intrigued her at the same time. Aster felt alive, adrenaline flowing in her veins for the first time in years. It was done. It was finished.


Some twisted voice inside her head recommended that she should slice up Carl and the limbs that remained of Thomas, but her dark deeds were interrupted by a sound, and indication that someone was on the estate. Police? Already? Aster began to breathe quickly and she realized then just how horrible she looked like. Sweat and blood coated her face and her arms, and her hair was sticking to her skin like glue. “Sh-shit…” Aster stuttered and dropped the axe. Clunk, thud. She jumped at the sound of her weapon hitting the floor. Someone was there. Someone was… shit. She couldn’t afford any witnesses.

 

[gabrielle]

Senior trips are what every graduating student seems to look forward to aside for the actual graduation itself. You hear talk about what colleges you're going to, who's joining the army, how relived people are that high school is finally over, and of course where you're going for your senior trip. You save up all this money to go on some vacation with all of your friends, celebrating for whatever reason you have be it your newly found "freedom," of an inevitable descent into a boring adulthood, making it through over twelve years of trite school drama and stodgy classes, or maybe your celebration is a certain kind of free-for-all to see how many good memories you can scrape up until you lose touch with all of your high school buddies.


Let us just take a moment for something else that is also imminent: your high school friends will eventually drift off into their own lives and seemingly forget about you just enough to stop calling yet not enough to never think of you as they look out of their apartment windows in a moment of short reminiscing thoughts as you will do to them as well. Yet even so, you'll still make your promises over a bonfire on a beach whether it be on the shores of California, Florida, Hawaii, or whatever else may have you, swearing on your pinkies and crossed hearts that you'll always stick together. That if you can go through the jungle brouhahas of high school unitedly and make it out alive all while sticking to who you are, well, we'll be taking names in vain if you can't hang tough for the rest of your lives with your class rings and Letterman jackets.


Please. Your high school friends are rarely this committed to these relationships you hold so dearly, yet here they all are, making those exact promises. What's worst of all is that half of these people actually believe in the promises with at least some sort of faith in their words, and of those select few of the hopefuls with good intentions and dreamy eyes of what life has in store for them and their absolutely inseparable group formed by destiny, is Adrian.


Okay, actually, maybe tone down the romantic theme a bit, and that'll be more truthful for Adrian. This isn't like one of those beginning scenes of inspirational movies with life lessons on how you'll think the best of things just to find yourself a fool for your hopeful wishes and make the best of what you have, no. Adrian is well aware of what he is expecting has a limited possibility of actually happening, but oh, a boy can have his aspirations. It was easy for him to decide that he wasn't exactly concerned about actually staying in this buoyant atmosphere with his classmates for the rest of his life. He didn't dream of hiking mountains with patches of short vibrant grasses here and there, warm rays of sunshine, and a cool breeze on comfortable, clear day with these people. He wasn't deluded with thoughts of staying by their sides while traveling the US: surfing the clear waters of Hawaii, walking beside Arizona's grand canyon, going to Las Vegas' casinos, or going to upstate New York to see the Statue of Liberty.


The sad fact of the matter is simply that Adrian one, does not have the money for such activities and two, doesn't necessarily care about keeping these friendships. In all honesty he's only taking part in these wistful delusions, because it was fun to entertain them. He wasn't taking this seriously in the slightest sense, and he doubted that any of the people around him were, either. The only person he genuinely wished to stay as close to as he was now for the rest of his life was Remi, and even then he doubted that such a thing would happen. They'd eventually find their way in life without each other despite being near inseparable ever since they'd known each other. It was probably unhealthy to be in a relationship as such, but it's the way things are for them. It's not like anyone seems to have a problem with it either, so who cares?


With a sigh Adrian looked towards the sky. His thoughts were too muddled and were beginning to stop making much sense to him; instead he found it easier to simply enjoy his time rather than trying to find something, maybe a meaning, that he didn't even know he was looking for. There was a simplicity in the scenery around him that was preferable over the jumbled regards of his mind. The lapis shade of the sky was comforting to him in a sense, sprinkled with the distant light of blazing stars complementing the luminous reflection of the moon. The warmth of a bonfire situated on the cool white sands of the shore kept away the darkness of night with a hazel glow, and sounds of the gentle waves pushing against the sand in a steady rhythm kept in the background, accompanying the sounds of the group's conversation. The light breeze did well in stirring the leaves of the palm trees above them creating a distant sound of rustling.


Turning his attention back to those providing him with companionship, Adrian took notice to his absence in the conversation as he pushed away the hair that fallen into his eyesight courtesy of the gentle wind. He was surrounded by familiar faces, each holding their own varying levels of jubilant emotions showing through. This was his senior trip. Key Biscayne. A place he'd never heard of yet had agreed to travel to. It wasn't difficult for him to decide that coming here was a good decision. It was nice to be away from home, and the island's small size left availability to tourists finding crowds undesirable. It was almost as if they had the entire island to themselves, the trees, and the sea.


The quietness here reminded him of home, but it was not the negative reminiscence of the lingering smell of chemicals and an empty field found in the absence of previously owned equine. It was instead in that soothing type of atmosphere of tall trees and getting lost in the world, just him and the earth of dirt, pine needles, and grass under his bare feet. Of course this was quite the different setting from home--palms replacing pines and sand substituting dirt--but the sereneness was the same. The air didn't hold the sweetness of a forest but was instead brackish. Adrian didn't mind. It was refreshing. A constant reminder that he wasn't yards away from a homemade meth lab. Even if he should end up hating the briny smell of the sea, it was easy to prefer it even then over the pungent smell of methamphetamine.


"Why don't you ask Adrian? He's the one that's into that type of stuff." A feminine voice cut Adrian from his thoughts with the mention of his name. With that, he finally turned his attention back to the conversation he'd ended up tuning out.


"Because the point of this game is to do what you're being dared to do and not get someone else to do it." Another girl replied with a vaguely mischievous look to her features.


It didn't take much more mind for Adrian to put two and two together. They weren't even having a conversation anymore--it was like the group had just gotten that bored or talked through so many topics that they ran out. Maybe it was both. Either way, they'd ended up resorting to something as trivial such as a game of truth or dare. Really it was something that was probably below them all being they were supposed to be mature at this point, but hey, what did it really matter? As far as Adrian was concerned, it could actually be a decent pull away from boredom. It was something that certainly had to be more fun than sitting around and thinking about your jerk-off of an uncle.


"What're you asking her to do?" He asked, bringing himself back to the conversation from the ten minute period of silence he'd been sitting through. You really can't blame him for having lost interest in the conversation. After spending all day with the same people, talking about things that no one would remember in the next morning couldn't exactly hold his attention forever. Of course the thought of doing something he's apparently "into," would catch his curiosity.


After a dramatic roll of her eyes, it was clear the girl knew that Adrian would end up doing the dare instead of who she'd originally asked and replied, "I dared her to go up to one of those houses we passed earlier and take some alcohol or something, but she's too chicken to." The gesture of a middle finger from the other girl pulled a smirk onto his expression.


"I can do it." He offered easily without hesitation. C'mon now, this was pretty much the type of excitement he was waiting for. Just sitting around on the beach, swimming, chatting.... Yeah, this was all pretty fun by all means, but it was too relaxed for him. After about a week of being here, Adrian was nearly fiending for at least some type trouble he was used to getting himself into, and well, this was just the thing he'd been waiting for. They were a group of ages ranging from seventeen to twenty, lacking in twenty-one year olds so just going out and buying the alcohol was out of the question. But what was a vacation without one night of getting drunk? Surely the thought of doing this had crossed his mind days ago as soon as he'd been asked for identification during his failed attempt at purchasing some beer in the hopes that maybe, just maybe he wouldn't get carded. It was only now that he really wanted to go through with it knowing that the others around him had the idea too; they where just too skittish to do so. You could say maybe they were smart because of this, and certainly that Adrian was being reckless here. This wasn't anything that was a concern of his though, no. Consequences were never things that crossed his mind, and the words of you're going to get yourself into a world of trouble that you won't be able to get yourself out of someday, boy, weren't an idea that he ever had any trust or belief in. His stubborn ignorance accompanied by pure carelessness was probably the worst traits you could have as a person, and lucky him for holding both.


Anyways, after more lighthearted arguing and discussion, it wasn't long until Adrian was walking off alone with the joking words of "If I'm not back in an hour, try to not wait too long to find my body. Shit gets pretty gross after a while. Be sure to feed me to the sharks after the funeral. It'll be fun." This of course offended at least one person and the sharp reply consisting of "Don't fucking joke about that!" only proved to amuse him as always. With a smirk still lingering he walked along the dirt trail leading away from the bonfire on the shore and into the foliage. He'd follow it back to one of the main roads where their rental vehicle was parked. Being he knew the nearest building wouldn't take longer than fifteen minutes to walk to, he went on foot. The car would make too much noise anyways, and what if someone wrote down the licence plate number? They'd all be screwed in that case. See, he wasn't entirely irresponsible. Ha.


As he walked, he pulled up the hood to his gray jacket and put his hands in its pockets. With the absence of the sun, it had gotten a bit cold to him earlier. This had led him to change from that stereotypical vacation outfit of a tank top, swimming shorts, and sandals to something warmer: jeans, converse, a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and a light zipped-up jacket over it.


In due time he neared the closest home he could find. It was a tiny house with the appearance of its residence either being away or asleep. With no nearby neighbors around, Adrian didn't find the need to jump their fence and get in through the back door. Instead he simply went to the front and using a pocket knife he typically kept with him, he stuck the blade between the door and the frame. It took some time and patience, but eventually he'd gotten the knife between the lock and was able to push it back into the door, inviting himself inside.


The absolute silence and coldness of the building unnerved him as he walked blindly through the dark; he was using only the low light of his phone for guidance. Walking down the hall, he saw the dim light of a muted television. This only worsened the wave of nervousness that lingered for him. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and he could feel the rapid strumming of his own heartbeat as he walked along the walls of the home. A creak of a floorboard had him freezing on spot as if that would've helped anything. He wasn't sure if it was his own paranoia born out of his high strung state of mind, but he could have sworn that he just heard someone else moving about. A painfully audible swallow sounded from him as he held his breath, waiting for another hint that he wasn't the only one awake.


He let a short bout of silence pass, and Adrian started moving again. He was much quicker this time; impatience hurried his movements. After what seemed like an eternity of stumbling about, Adrian finally came across just what he was looking for: the kitchen. He seemed to be losing the jittery feeling of his earlier anxiety as he opened the refrigerator only to find it devoid of anything other than soda. It was right around the time that he was opening cabinets that light blinded him, and immediately after a voice sounded.


"Oh my god." It should be a given that Adrian flinched, looking over at the source of the voice wide-eyed with a frown very prominent on his features. His desolate appearance only proved to worsen as he took in the sight of a rather short women yielding a shot gun. He took a step back as she raised it with shaking hands.


"Hey now, careful with that." He started softly as he continued backing up with each step she took towards him. He was shaking and felt entirely unsteady, yet continued moving slowly towards the door. "Blood is kind of a bitch to clean up. I'd hate to cause the trouble." Now really wasn't the time for his dry humor.


Adrian wasn't sure how the woman was feeling, but one thing was very clear to him as she'd screamed "Get out!" The sudden loudness of her voice seemed to scare the living hell out of him, and he and all of the smart-ass comments he had were out the door. He'd set off running as quickly as he could before she'd even finished her sentence; it was beyond him how he managed to get out without stumbling as much as he did walking in. Even so, he ended up accidentally knocking over something with a crash, and the noise in turn had a shot being fired from the gun. That was enough to scare him to the point of not looking back or stopping once he knew he wasn't being followed and was out of sight. To put it simply, he didn't want to be anywhere near the home.


It was only after he tripped over the roots of something and land nearly face first into the dirt did he stop. He'd landed on his hands and knees and moved to sit against a tree. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he crossed his arms over them as he willed himself to calm down. Slowing his breath seemed to be something that was nearly impossible, and sweat had started to bead across his forehead. His heart was beating to the point that not only could he feel it racing, but he could hear it as well. With his adrenaline beginning to taper off, his hands still shook and the burning in his legs had begun to be felt.


Was that whole little episode it worth it? There hadn't even been any alcohol that he found in the place, and his ears still rung with the sound of the bullet that had been shot at him. He was definitely lucky that it missed. There's that and the fact that he currently has no idea where the hell he is on this damned island. Even so, he'd say yes. Sure, it was frightening as hell, but these are the things that make life worthwhile to him. The after affect was what he looked for--that pleasant buzz of fuck, that was awesome. It'd at least bring an interesting topic to talk about despite the fact that he had come back empty-handed.


After he'd gotten a long enough moment of rest, Adrian was on his feet once more and brushing off the dirt from his hands and clothes. It really kind of sucked that he'd completely lost his way after he'd took off in only god knows what direction; though, he wasn't too worried about it. If worst comes to worst he'd end up out here all night, but even then, he didn't mind it all that much. He could recall plenty of times that he ended up getting lost in the forest on his uncle's property, so it wasn't like this was something completely new to him. It was especially helpful that he could just barely make out the sight of a road quite a few yards in front of him. Little contemplation was needed for him to decide that he'd just follow it until he managed to figure out how to get back to the hotel he'd been staying at. There was an attempt to use the GPS on his phone, but he didn't have any service. That was able to prompt an annoyed sigh from him, but that was as far as his shortly lived agitation proved to go. Like it was mentioned earlier; he really wasn't worried about this. The walk he was having was pretty enjoyable, actually. It'd be better with decent lighting, but still.


Eventually there came a point to where he could see a home in the far distance. Or rather he should say mansion. Those who lived there might not have considered it as such, but when you're from his background... Having lived in something probably most accurately described as a cabin followed by a renovated shed? Yeah, a house like this is pretty much an estate. Adrian strayed from the road, making his way to the home. Climbing over the chain-link fence signalling he was crossing into private property didn't alarm him in the slightest, and he did it with ease. His ankles burned momentarily after he'd jumped from it, but this was nothing that discomforted him much at all. Seeing the lights on in the home, he wasn't worried about the residents being asleep despite the time. The only thing really bothering him here was his anticipation just to get this over with and get back to the others. He really hasn't been out here that long; the time on his phone gave him the knowledge that he'd only been out for only around an hour. Still, it felt like he'd been out here for much longer than that. Maybe he wouldn't mind this as much if it weren't in the middle of the night, but as things are, there was no daylight. He'll just have to deal with the dark as he had been for this whole time.


It took a while, but eventually he had gotten himself to the front door. Instead of repeating his earlier actions, he took the time to knock politely instead of unlocking the door. Quite frankly, he was over the idea of getting alcohol. He could always try again tomorrow, but tonight? Uh, no. He's had enough excitement for now, thanks. So he waited, completely oblivious as to what was going with the residence inside the building. He looked a bit of a mess with having ran through the foliage and the wear of the whole day being apparent on him, but he still put in the effort to keep the appearance of exhaustion away from his features. If anything he probably looked despondent as others always tell him, saying that he's always frowning with sad puppy-dog looking eyes, but really, what was he supposed to do about that? Walk around smiling all the time like some freak just because he naturally looks depressed? Ha! Forget that idea.

 

[Elernia]

There was definitely a knock on the door, like three ‘thump’s that seemed to seal her destiny. How dramatic a simple knock sounded to her now when adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she was standing at her murder scene, wide-eyed and sweaty. After those three knocks, the only thing she could hear was her own accelerated breathing and an odd buzzing that was beginning to settle in. Her heart was a loud hammer, making a sickening, constant pounding in her throat, threatening to burst through her skin. Never in a billion years would it have occurred to her that murdering someone would put her in such an intense physical state. Suddenly she was no longer a normal, bland part of society. No, she had disobeyed the basic rules, the moral code everybody stood by, and within minutes she was all by herself in this terrifying world that was up against her. They never told people these things about murderers. The only thing anyone cared about was how evil and sick those people were, not about the loneliness, the horrifying feeling of standing at the edge of a massive abyss after living a comfortable life in society’s safety net.


Aster was a smart girl. Granted, she had never murdered anyone before and her mind was going through a lot, but at the end of the day she was still the down-to-earth girl from Cardiff who had a practical solution to everything. Her motto had always been: ‘no problems, only solutions’. Even now, when she had two dead bodies in the house and a potential third one knocking at her door, she was somehow able to pull herself away from the abyss and focus on what had to be done. So far, no one could prove that she had killed her husband and his butler, because no one had seen it. There were no cameras inside the house and if she was diligent about the cleaning, she could still get away with this, one way or another. Hiding the bodies would be much easier after chopping them up into pieces, as she recalled a murder case going unnoticed for years when the culprits hid the body parts in the most random areas all around the country. That was a far too bold of a plan, but perhaps she could do something similar. Or, she could feed them to the fish.


In any case, she started to firmly believe she could somehow wiggle herself out of this, and even began to justify herself. Of course she had the right to kill her husband. She had been dead on the inside for years already and he definitely had it coming for all the meaningless shit he had put her through. Still, Aster wouldn’t consider herself as a victim of his whims, she simply hated the idea. She just wanted what was fair, although her view of that was undoubtedly quite unique, twisted even. Was her husband’s death just? It was a good question. For now, she wanted to believe it was, and that he was finally paying back for all these years of pretending. Realistically, it would have been either Thomas or her, but because she wasn’t a damn coward, it had to be Thomas. Besides, things could have escalated to a much greater height if she hadn’t done what she needed to. For instance, if Thomas had figured out that she wasn’t getting pregnant because she was lying to him, he would have definitely found a way to force her into it. Then, she would have had to give birth to a child, possibly disabled just like him, and she would have felt an immense hatred towards that little thing. And what would she have done then?


There was no question about it. She would have choked the baby in his or her crib. Thomas would have found the evidence and she wouldn’t have had the time to find an axe to chop him into pieces. Carl would also be against her, of course he would be. Aster would be remembered in history as the worst mother ever. The religious nutjobs would preach about the Devil himself possessing her in order to destroy God’s precious gift that she had pushed out of her own womb. Everyone else would just call her a psychopathic bitch and tell the system to lock her up for good. And she would be locked, alright. They would put her in a cage, throw away the key and that would be the end of her story. All because of why? Because she hadn’t had the guts to kill Thomas on that one night during their vacation to Key Biscayne. So, yes. Hell yes, this was all justified. Her mind was in a calmer place, now, for the time being.


Aster looked down to her hands and took a deep breath before yelling: “Just a minute, please!” Hopefully whoever was behind the door would not have any ties with the authorities… and even if they did, it didn’t matter, because she was quite confident she would need to chop a third body today. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Quickly, she slipped into one of the many upstairs’ bathrooms and washed as much of the blood as she could from her hair and her face. The white sink soon became a pleasant shade of light red and orange. Another thing she would need to scrub with bleach to make the evidence vanish into thin air. She then stripped out of her clothing and grabbed a nightgown, which she wrapped around herself while staring at her reflection from the mirror. Funny… she didn’t look like a murderer. Where was the guilt in her eyes? And the insanity? No, she looked perfectly calm, confident, happy even. Her steps felt lighter, but there was a strange feel to them, as if she was walking in a dream-like place. She was persuaded she could survive this, that she wouldn’t come to regret any of this as long as she kept her head in the game. She had to do this. There was no other option but to see this through.


Thomas’ vacation home was built much like any other rich man’s estate. The entrance was a beautiful hall with marble floor, expensive chandelier and two sets of stairs that curved up. A bouquet of lilies had been placed earlier into a pricy Chinese vase by Carl. Anyone glancing into the house or even entering the first floor through the front door could hardly guess what kind of a mess she had made upstairs… and Aster was planning on keeping it that way. Nonetheless, if she did need to chop up a third person today, she preferred to do it cleanly. Hence, before heading downstairs she walked into Thomas’ bedroom and opened the last of his drawers to pick up a small handgun. After making sure it wasn’t loaded just yet, she slipped it inside her gown, put on some slippers and combed through her hair with her fingers before descending to the first floor hall. Ideally, the person who would see her would simply think she had just got out of the bath or something, hence why she had taken her sweet time answering the door.


Once at the door, Aster turned on the small security camera that had a view of the area outside the front door. The system was perfect for checking whether it was the pizza you had ordered that was being delivered, or an unwanted family member begging to join you for dinner. In Aster’s case, she just wanted reassurance that the police wasn’t already at her door and sure enough, it wasn’t a police officer knocking at an hour like this. In fact, the sight of a young man standing at her doorstep was just too odd to be true. Who was this person? And how the hell had he made it past the front gate? The camera image was a blurry, making it difficult to see the details of his face. There wasn’t anything particular about his clothing either, and to be honest, he seemed like a person who wouldn’t have anything to do with someone as rich as Thomas. Although, she could never be certain. Maybe this was Thomas’ younger cousin who had abandoned the lifestyle of the rich and famous? Aster’s eyes narrowed and she bit her lip nervously. She didn’t like this, but she had to do something. Witnesses were strictly out of question.


Speaking of witnesses… it was just too convenient that he had appeared at her doorstep after she had killed both Thomas and Carl. Could it be that he had heard something? That he knew something? Maybe he was on a vacation here, had walked past the house and seen something in the upstairs windows… Oh god, the windows! Aster felt her heartbeat rising exponentially at the thought of a possible witness. There just wasn’t any other explanation for a young man like him to be out there like this. He must have already called the cops on her too.


With her panic intensifying by the second, Aster pulled the door open and without a second thought she grabbed the boy by his arm and pulled him inside before slamming the door shot and locking it twice. Then, she spun around to face him, pulled out her gun and pointed it at his head. “Alright.” Aster breathed, and glanced down to her arms in a frustrated manner when she realized they were trembling. “Hands behind your head so I can see them and walk upstairs, pretty boy.” Holy fucking shit. She was really doing this. She was going to make him sit in a chair and shoot his brains out in the same room where Thomas’ remains were, so she wouldn’t have to clean multiple different puddles later on. Aster was a bit alarmed by his height, but at first glance he didn’t seem all too muscled, so perhaps he didn’t actually stand a chance at stopping her. He also looked… a bit younger to her. It was difficult to say, really. He had strong, sharp facial features, cheek bones to die for and all. He could have been a model, easily. At the same time, those warm brown deep-set eyes and plump lips made him look more like a boy than a man.


The sight of him reminded her of her old classmates, more specifically those cute guys who ended up growing their hair past the limit of what society considered proper, joined a band with their mates and lived a lifestyle of drugs, sex and alcohol. Hey, she wasn’t blaming or judging them. People only lived once, so if you didn’t make decisions for yourself, what was the point in it? Aster just wished she could have made the same decisions too, like cut her hair short, dye it pastel purple, pierce her ears and walk around in platform converse shoes. Now, she was too ‘old’ for that and the only brands her wardrobe had were Chanel, Louboutin and Valentino. Growing up was so boring and horrible… and yet so inevitable.


“Hurry the fuck up!” She insisted and shook her gun at him to emphasize her words. Honestly Aster didn’t know how to be scary or threatening, but she did know that she needed to survive no matter what. She simply couldn’t afford this young man going back to the police to blabber about what he had seen. She wouldn’t let another person determine the direction her life would go to, and that was why he had killed Thomas. “And while you walk, tell me exactly what you saw and what you thought by achieving when you knocked on my door.” Aster told him, so she could assess the situation properly, while pressing the gun against his chest, forcing him to walk towards the stairs.