The Island of the Slaughtered | TDI AU

Sounds of Hope

The smoke's might built up, the fire spreading as fast as the wood would allow it to. Time was running out.

"Duncan, you idiot!" Leshawna lectured into his ear while the others struggled to get water over the burning wood outside the cabin.

"You don't scare me, just-"

"I don't care if your mother just got diagnosed with cancer, we all might as well be diagnosed too because our one hope of getting off this island is gone because of you!"

"Leshawna, can you-"

"Nuh-uh, you can blame Courtney all you want, but you think this is what she wanted?"

Duncan didn't respond to this and instead glared at her. Leshawna glared right back, and eventually he backed off. He walked right past me into the cabin, slamming the door behind him. Leshawna ran to the sea to pick up another bucket of water, I watched as the group scrambled to put it out.

I didn't see the point. Sure, it's important the fire doesn't spread into the grass or whatever, but the boat's gone. It was too good to be true anyway, and with Courtney gone, there was no way in hell it was going to work. She held us together, so unless I stepped up, nothing would get done. Everyone's lost someone special to them, and all I've lost is my patience with the people here.

They're all so... weird. Not to mention over dramatic. After Duncan finally left the cabins, he went back to the theater and just stared at Courtney hanging from chains like a stupid puppet. Gwen and Katie are also crazy depressed... How could you even get yourself to care about someone like that? Especially in a situation like this.

Then there's the total opposite, Cody and Izzy, who are a little too optimistic, despite us already losing 14 campers. Though, Izzy disappeared out of nowhere after finding Owen and Geoff, and Cody had his moments after Noah died... though after a few days he went back to normal.

The only girl I can really respect here is Eva, but once her anger issues start to creep up, it's hard to take her seriously.

Either way, the day after Courtney died, it was clear shit hit the fan. Any order we had retained went out the window. Some of us started venturing off by themselves, meals were no longer consistent, and god was it boring. We all sort of silently decided the boat idea isn't worth starting again, so we're practically waiting to die.

It's now been 36 days on this stupid island, and honestly, I'm just praying it ends soon. It's been 2 days since Courtney died, so maybe I'm not too far off. It's so boring here, and part of me wonders why the killer would wait to kill me off. Maybe it's because I accepted the fact before everyone else did, but it doesn't make me any less annoyed. Why must they drag out my life?

Look, I'm not saying I'm suicidal or whatever, I value living, I just don't see a point in trying anymore. While it is possible we can make it through alive, the possibilities have been proven to be slim.

Lately to pass time I've been drawing in the sand of the beach near the docks. Sometimes I just use my fingers or feet, and other times I just use a stick. Today I've been tracing with my feet, making little stars and planets, though nothing extraordinarily impressive. It reminds me a lot of the ballet classes my mom keeps insisting I take.

I've caught myself wondering a lot of where I would be right now if I quit ballet a while back... I'm not exceptionally smart, and I'm just athletic enough to excel in a pre-professional ballet class. Maybe I'd have more friends, or maybe I'd be an entirely different person altogether.

This isn't to say I didn't appreciate ballet. I've met a few decent people there, and the discipline of the art form has truly taught me a lot. No one is ever perfect, and no one can be perfect... but when you're the example, you might as well be. God, when I was a die heart for the art, I would spend hours after school fighting for privates just so I could be ahead of everyone else... and there was a while when I was. Instead of the average double pirouettes or 90 degree arabesques, I had achieved consistent triples and 180 extensions at 13 years old. I guess I just realized it wouldn't mean anything when there's people half my age doing twice as much.