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graveyard part 3
 You wake up in an unfamiliar cabin. At first, it almost seems like you're in an entirely different place and that everything had been just a dream. The interior of the cabin looks nothing like the run-down, old-timey shacks that you had been living in before. Everything in here is sleek and modern, from the enormous flat-screen TV mounted on the wall to the fridge and mini-bars stocked with all your favorite foods. There aren't any individual rooms in here, just a common area large enough to house everyone comfortably, no matter how many more people join you...and there will be plenty more people joining you before the week is over. Because if you look outside the window, it quickly becomes clear that not only are you still in Prayer's Pass, but that you are no longer among the realm of the living. Judging from the tombstones directly outside, you're now in what had been the abandoned broken-down cabin in the graveyard. The cabin's not all that changed; the world outside has gone completely grey and everything you see appears to be faded and blurry. The only things that remain sharp and in color are what's inside the cabin, including your fellow ghosts. Occasionally, people who are still alive may enter, but it's clear that what they're seeing is completely different from what you're seeing. The door's unlocked; however, a mysterious force prevents you from stepping beyond the threshold, no matter how hard you may try. After all, this cabin is a cage for the dead - a gilded one, perhaps, but a cage nonetheless. On the flat-screen TV plays everything that is currently happening in the town. It will shut off once night starts...and something else will appear instead. |
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Save yourself. That's all you had to do.
Also you were wrong and ghosts are real. Surprise.
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[He's about to sound happy to see him, but stops mid-speaking when England throws something at him and says that. This isn't anything different than their normal banter and giving each other a hard time, but this time it hits him really hard. He's pretty much kept himself going the past few days on determination to listen that what England's letter said and fight for his life, and this morning it had all seemed to be going so well. He'd been honestly happy since the game first started, feeling like he was going to really succeed and prove himself.
Even though getting shot wasn't something he expected or thought was his fault, he already feels horribly guilty for not being able to accomplish the one thing he was asked to do and survive. He failed everyone but most of all England, who died wanting to make sure he would do that, and all of that after truly believing this time he was going to show everyone he could really do it.
Instead of greeting him or shooting something insulting back, he bites on his lip until he can push back the tears that want to come, and once he does, instead turns on him furiously.]
Fuck you! No one wants to hear that from someone who just gave up!
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I didn't give up. I played to the best of my ability, and I made sure the hunters knew where they could find my journal when it became clear I wasn't going to make it. I didn't put myself in the line of fire for the prey, who shouldn't even--
[He cuts himself off, breathing heavily. The truth is...he knows he has no right to be angry at America simply for playing the game and actually saving someone. He can't blame him for not knowing that the hunters had been armed or getting shot. He can't even blame Ada for doing whatever it took to win. There's only one reason why he's furious at all, and it's because...]
You were supposed to live. [Everything he worked for, every trick he pulled...all of it made useless by a single bullet.]
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[He picks up the first thing he can get his hands on, which happens to be a can of soda, and throws it back at England.]
Your side fucking cheats, but I guess it's all my fault! Everything is all my fault in the entire universe, good to know!
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We don't cheat, we use perfectly legitimate strategies in order to make up for this game being bloody rigged against us! And I told you the hunters would be coming after you!
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[He sags against the couch, the fight suddenly drained out of him as he finally admits to himself what he's been trying to deny thinking about this whole time.]
I didn't think it through at all. They were always going to have to shoot you eventually. Letting a confirmed clear and such a powerful role survive for the sake of a dead hunter would have been extremely stupid. I was just fooling myself in ever hoping otherwise.
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[It's hard to fight against someone who doesn't want to fight, though, so now he's starting to feel guilty and ashamed once again.]
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Just - just shut up and leave me alone. Go fuck off and tell Ada how much her plan was great again.
[He'll storm off now, although storming off just means going to the other side of the cabin and sitting down there.]
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I didn't say that. It was a terrible plan and I'm quite upset with her about it as well. We'll be lucky if no one questions exactly how she managed to steal a gun from someone normally so observant. [he scowls blackly] Well, it's not like any of my ideas worked out that brilliantly either. I only hope that they'll send Spain down here before this is all over, he'll be smug and insufferable for centuries if he survives.
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Shut up, shut up, shut up! No one cares, I told you to leave me alone!
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I will not. If you wanted me to leave you alone so badly, you should have stayed alive. Then you wouldn't have had to hear from me ever again. [And he knows he's being irrational and perhaps even cruel, but he genuinely has no idea why America's so upset at him of all people when he'd done everything he could to ensure his survival.]
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What - are you actually - I wasn't serious about that, prat! I know it wasn't actually your fault!
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Leave. Me. Alone.
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Fine. It's not like I care. It's not like I--[Sat here for an hour listening to America slowly bleeding out, thoughts twisting gradually from hoping he'd miraculously survive to hoping he'd die soon and not have to suffer any longer, anger and grief choking him so tightly that he felt as though he was suffocating as well - and worst of all, knowing there was no good target for his rage except for himself. He hates Critter, but he's hated it since the start of this game. This, though...this was a personal failure more than anything else. He had broken his promise to stay alive, to help the hunters at whatever cost, to protect his citizens, but keeping America alive had always seemed like something he could finally get right. It's a bitter feeling that burns in the pit of his stomach to know that he's completely failed at everything he set out to accomplish.]
At least tell me where I went wrong. [Went wrong in this conversation, went wrong in getting America to save himself, went wrong in this whole fucking game.]
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[He starts to talk, but stops. He can't really explain why he's upset, because it's not at England, even though being angry at England is a more comfortable way to channel his feelings than being sad.
It's selfish, but after England died, what he wanted wasn't just to win. He wanted to do so well that everyone would look at him differently. This whole game, people have all been acting like he's horrible and awful or just stupid, and while England wanted to protect him, even he didn't see him as capable. It had been hurting his ego even before England died, but that stupid fucking letter had made it seem like to some extent England trusted him. He had just really thought he was finally going to show everyone it wasn't like that.
And now, not only is he dead, but it's back to the same, he's stupid and useless and couldn't have accomplished a thing. It hurts, but even more because in sharp contrast to his usual self-confidence, it really feels true.]
I'm just tired.
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[He reaches forward automatically for the bottle of rum he had before remembering that he'd thrown it at America. Instead, he winds up twisting his fingers in his lap and staring down at them.]
...you did well. You fooled everyone into thinking you weren't playing and saved Lithuania. I wish you hadn't, but then again, I am a hunter.
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[He doesn't get up to move; they will just have to awkwardly talk across the room.]
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[That bothers him a lot, but he tries to shake it off. He wants England to hate Ada, but at the same time he also wants him not to think America needs protecting like some dumb kid.]
I don't think they're going to. There's stuff you guys don't know. First off, the watcher is Spain, not Lithuania. And second, there are two roles that I don't think the hunters figured out.