I... I don't know what I just witnessed.

Tears roll down my cheeks as I struggle to look away from the large monitor displaying the image Ryn's unmoving body.  She may have been a killer, but she had been a much better younger sister.  I can't even begin to think about how much she must've loved and looked up to her older brother for her to be unable to live without him.  I remember the way she seemed to perk up when she told me about him, and how her voice softened.  I know that if someone ever loved me like that, I would consider myself the luckiest person alive.

"Boo-hoo!" Ace cackles. "Wipe your tears, kids, she's reunited with that nerdy brother of hers again!  Honestly, I'm not sure which sibling I enjoyed watching suffer in my killing game more.  They were both strong until they weren't, but at least Ryn had the balls to kill.  Her brother was, despite the fact that he both looked like and very well could kill, a pacifist until the end."

"Why are you telling us this?  To make us feel even worse for her?  If you want us to stop crying, then shut the hell up!" Furfur yells, her eyes brimming with angry tears.

"Careful now, you wouldn't want to anger your headmaster," Ace warns.  Furfur glares at them but says nothing.

"You've had your fun!  Stop this madness!" Mononity demands.  In response, Ace begins to spin him around and around.

"You kiddos should leave so I can give Mononity here a good ol' talking to," the headmaster says as they continue spinning the teacher.

It's clear that by this point, nobody wants to even risk going against any rules, so we all quietly file out and return to the elevator.

"And then there were twelve," Stolas mumbles. "It reminds me of an old mystery novel I read once."

"Shut up," Furfur snaps bitterly.

"Hey, we can't turn on each other now," Zeben tells her. "That's what Monokumace wants, right?  We have to avoid tension as much as we can."

"Maybe that's it.  Maybe we can just live peacefully together now.  Yeah, yeah, that's right," Will insists.  Everyone knows that he's mainly trying to convince himself, judging by the way his gaze drops to the floor and how obviously fake his smile is.

"Well, it's not quite noon yet.  Perhaps the best idea is to just relax and try to compose ourselves?" Evangeline suggests. 

"Easier said than done," Iris reminds her. "I don't think recovering from trauma is that easy."

He makes a really strong point.  No matter how much I've enjoyed spending time with these people, the deaths of four of our friends weighs heavy on my mind.  You can't just move on from something like that.  It's not how it works, even if we try to convince ourselves that it is.

I honestly don't remember most of the walk back to the first island, or when I ended up getting back to my cottage.  All I know is that I'm now finding myself staring up at my ceiling blankly.  I'm thinking about Tristan when he dropped dead from the poison.  I'm thinking about Rori when he fell from the tree of needles and barely survived only for the cliff to collapse.  I'm thinking about En when we found them with blood dripping from their head in the Pharmacy.  And I'm thinking about Ryn when she realized that the person she'd killed to find again, the person she kept going for, was already dead.  Because no matter how much I want to leave it all behind me, it will just keep coming back again and again and again.  It will always be etched in our heads.  No amount of time or distractions can change that.

...I need some tea.

Before this island, I've never really been a tea kind of girl.  It turns out that there's a reason why people recommend tea for relaxation.  In a sense, it may not help me recover, but it can help my body calm down for a short while.  ...Is this what drugs do?  If so, f*ck drugs.  Drink tea, people! 

I'm surprised to see as I walk into the kitchen that Dana is running around, throwing things into bowls and stirring things in mugs.  She's a whirlwind of cooking at the moment, and it takes her nearly plowing me over to slow down.

"Sorry," she apologizes, smiling sheepishly as she sets down her current bowl.

"You're working a lot," I observe.

She sighs. "I know.  I can't help it.  I'm just trying to do what I can to take my mind off of everything, y'know?  Cooking, baking, and mixing drinks have always been my three escapes from my problems.  My coping mechanism.  It's why I got so good at mixing drinks.  I mean, I've always had a good eye for flavor combinations, and I played those Papa's Pizzeria games as a kid, so no wonder I became a barista.  And then my passion for it made me even better."

"Now you're the Ultimate Barista," I finish.

"Yeah.  Hard work and passion are all it takes."

"I can relate there.  I think everyone here can too.  I just..." I trail off.

"What?" Dana pushes herself up so she can sit on the counter.

"...It's so unfair that all that hard work means nothing to all of us.  Not to the people that died, because they'll never get to use their skills again, and not to us, because we're never leaving this island," I mumble. 

"Nothing about this situation is fair to anyone," she reminds me. "I don't know why we're here, but I think that our best move is to just keep holding onto what we've still got.  Right?  Yes, what Iris said earlier is true, and you clearly understand that.  We won't ever get over this.  But we can still keep going, 'cause what else is there to do?  I don't think any of here are the kind of person who just lays down and dies when sh*t hits the fan."

"I might," I admit.  Dana throws a wooden spoon at me.

"What the f*ck??" I explain as I'm clocked in the head.

"I'll repeat myself," she says, "We won't get over this, because we did witness four classmates die, but we also can't let it control us.  There's a difference between living with trauma and living with trauma."

"That makes no sense."

Dana makes a face. "Yes it does!  You can live with trauma, where it takes over ever aspect of your life and dictates everything.  Or you can live with trauma, where you know it's there and know you can't recover but can still learn to work around it."

"...I'm still confused, oh wise lady of the kitchen."

"What I'm saying is just don't let it control you.  You are in control of your own actions.  Yes, you witnessed death.  But is that the only thing that makes you who you are as a person?  No!  It's just a part of you, just as much as your childhood pet or your first crush.  You don't let those things shape you, though, your personality stems from what you love.  What keeps you going.  What helps you get through bad times," she explains.

I stand there, speechless for a long moment. "Jesus, Dana, I didn't know you were the Ultimate Motivational Speaker."

"Look, I monologue internally sometimes when I'm upset and need a pep talk.  And frankly, saying it out loud made me feel better too."

Iris was right earlier- recovering from trauma isn't easy.  But he never said that it was impossible.  And talking with Dana right now... I can see that.  

"You look like you need some tea," Dana observes.

I roll my eyes. "I guess I do."

"Luckily I predicted that and have some mugs already done."

"Dana!" I gasp, looking over towards the line of mugs on the counter.  She's right, there's tea in each of them.  She laughs.

"Did I overhear correctly that you made tea?" Marzy asks as he appears in the doorway.  Dana gestures to the line of mugs, and he goes to grab one.

As he does so, a thought occurs to me. "Hey Marzy?  You're the only sciencey Ultimate we have left, right?"

"Furfur is a geologist," he reminds me. "And Zeben specializes in hydroponics."

"Well, the most sciencey one.  Like, you know you way around living things and stuff."

"Yes..." Marzy furrows his brow. "What are you getting at?"

"Well, now that Ryn's gone, someone needs to look after her calf.  Someone who would know enough to not accidentally kill it," I remind him.  He narrows his eyes.

"No."

"Don't be a jerk, Marzy!" Dana jumps in. "That calf needs a mom, and you're the best candidate for the job."

"I am a biologist, not a maternal figure."

"What're we talking about?" Will asks as he steps into the room.

"Marzy ever so kindly offered to look after Ryn's calf now that she's gone," Dana says.

"I did no such thing," Marzy argues, glaring at her.

Will immediately understands what's been going on, and his expression becomes nothing short of smug.

"Aw, really?  Marzy, that's so nice of you!  After all, you're the only one who would have an understanding of the calf's needs because you know all about biology and stuff," he says.

"I'm leaving.  Do not follow me or ask me about this again." Marzy then turns on his heel and storms out.

It's quiet for a minute before all three of us start laughing.

"Oh, he's mad," Dana chuckles.

"I could practically see the steam coming out of his ears," I add with a smile.  It feels nice, being able to genuinely laugh at something again.

"So could I!  Especially because there's no need for Marzy Farlay to look after the calf," Monokumace's voice echoes from the loudspeaker. "Mononity is already doing that job!  After all, he can't physically leave the barn unless there's another trial."

After the loudspeaker turns off, we exchange glances.

"Hey, pissing Marzy off was pretty funny, though," Will says. "Now we know how to push his buttons."

"You're right on that one," I agree.

Dana grabs a tray from a cabinet and carefully sets the remaining mugs on it. "I'm gonna go see who else wants some, before it gets cold."

Will and I watch her leave.  I'm about to excuse myself when I see Will leaning against the counter, looking at something on the screen of his video camera.

"What is it?" I ask.  He doesn't say anything, just motions to me that I can come see for myself.

I peer over his shoulder to see him looking through recordings dated back from before we came here.  Most of them are some of the craziest camera shots I've ever seen, even if the actions themselves aren't the most epic.  The perspectives give them all the epicness they could possibly need.  The position of the light is also spot-on, whether it's the sun giving an almost magical glow to the frame from the back or a single lightbulb swinging from a wire in an interrogation room.  It's not obvious whether or not these are all part of the same project, but I'm sure that Will could most certainly piece together a story from them if they are.

The next video is not an empty shot of a scene or inanimate object.  The camera seems to be sitting still on a flat surface, filming a couch with two people on it.  The first is Will, and the second is a young man I don't recognize.  They're laughing, pushing each other playfully, and having a good time.  As if they don't have a single care in the world.

I glance up at Will to see his amber eyes glassy and fixed to the screen.  He looks like he wants to say something, but can't bring himself to.  Finally, after the video ends, he lets out a deep sigh.

"That's just some old projects I never got to finish," he explains, tucking the video camera back into his bag. "Maybe I will, if I ever get out of here.  Or if I can just find a way to get access to some good editing software."

"Y'know, it sounds like you and I are on the same boat with our respective mediums," I point out.

Will gives me a slight smile. "Yeah.  That's right."

"Attention students!" God, I hate that f*cking dragon with their stupid f*cking voice.

"Due to VERY recent events, I am pleased to inform you all that the third island is now open!  Go, have fun and explore!"

"Well, sounds like we have something else to distract us while we figure out how to help everyone escape this hellhole," Will comments, starting for the door.

"You sound awfully optimistic all of a sudden," I observe.

He turns towards me with a smirk on his face. "You know the saying.  Where there's a Will, there's a way."

***

(2106 words)

Did I just end the chapter with a pun?   Yes, I did.

Also this chapter was almost entirely BS and I apologize for it but I needed a serious amount of filler for this one soooo-