Memory Logs

The Red Strings

The red-head snarled, not in the mood to deal with any attitude. Not when she was still reeling from the horrible revelation of what Evan had done - who he was. Why was she in this constant back-and-forth with him? One moment believing him to be a good person, the next thinking he's a monster?

She shook herself out of it. There wasn't any going back from what he'd told her this time. There wasn't any way she could forgive a man who'd killed over a hundred innocent people.

But she'd forgiven the man who'd killed her and her friends... hadn't she?

Meg's angry blue-gray eyes fixated on Susie. "You mind telling me what the hell you're doing here?"

Susie seemed to tense up; but Meg couldn't tell whether it was for a particular reason or just her usual shy self. "I don't know..." she managed. "I-I just - wound up here! I-I... wanted to get away from the others, anyways... but I'm kinda glad I-I found Jake here... h-he really... uhm, inspired me."

Both Meg and Jake seemed stunned by the confession. They exchanged glances before Jake focused back on the masked girl, eyes narrowing. "So you're not here to kill us?" He demanded.

"O-Oh, no," she insisted, tossing the knife away and clutching at her hands nervously. "K-Killing was never really my thing... I-I just wanted to..."

"... fit in," Jake finished pensively. "I know what that's like."

Meg took a step back. This conversation seemed way too personal for her to be involved; like she was intruding on a private moment. But as she did, a collective gasp brought her attention back to them and she found them both staring at themselves - and each other.

And a red string stretched from Jake's heart, right to Susie's.

Jake reacted the way he did when presented with anything confusing or uncertain; cynicism. "So the Entity's decided to fuck with us, huh?" He muttered, looking up at the dark sky and throwing up his hands.

"W-what the hell is this thing supposed to be?! G-get it off!" Susie protester, scrambling off of the junk pile and tripping over her own two feet. She fell - right into Jake. While he remained upright, he stumbled and his arms instinctively went out to brace her. The gesture was intimate enough to surprise them both and the masked girl lifted her head to stare at him. The tension was thick enough to slice with a knife, and Meg at this point was too stunned to give them the privacy she thought was needed.

"You're connected," the red-head breathed, and both of them broke from each other as if burned by the contact, looking over at her. "The red string connects you. Bonds you."

"Like you and the Trapper," Jake muttered.

Meg felt her heart clench painfully at the mention of the monster. This time, she had no impulse to correct him over the name.

Jake's eyes shifted back to Susie, who had wrapped her arms around herself, looking almost like a lost child. Something in his expression softened - and he leaned on the wall behind him, folding his arms over his chest and watching her. "Why do you feel the need to impress them?" He asked.

Susie balked under his stare, fidgeting with her hands. "T-they're my friends," she stuttered.

"I wasn't bullshitting when I said real friends encourage each other," he replied. "Those people aren't your friends. They're using you. Why do you care so much what they think??"

The girl looked scared. Which was weird, considering Jake was the survivor here, not her. "I-I just do!"

Jake's lips quirked slightly. "You shouldn't."

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Back at the campfire, all the survivors were abuzz with all the insane things that had been happening lately. The convergence of the maps, the red strings that had formed between different people; the killers' different reactions to the recent changes. "Some'a these killas just don't give a shite no more," David grunted, huddled close to Dwight, who leaned on him. "They want ta get out much as we do. But some'o'em - they like it. Some'o'em are jus' - bad eggs. Like that Clown. Could give 'im a right pass outta here and he'd laugh at yeh."

"The Shape..." Nea shuddered, casting a glance over at Bill, Ash and Tapp, who were tucked away by a tree, conversations quietly amongst themselves. The older men seemed to be in a world of their own most of the time, keeping to themselves except to help the younger survivors through a trial. Nea's eyes returned to the fire and she pulled her knees to her chest. "He's got eyes like... like the devil, or something."

A few in the group looked over at Laurie, who slept peacefully in her tent. "He likes her the most," Quentin commented quietly, wearily laying his head in Kate's lap while the blonde stroked his hair gently. On Kate's other shoulder was Ace, snoring softly and still wearing his sunglasses despite it being dark out.

"She came with him, didn't she?" Nea asked.

"Yeah. She said there were rumors spread in her town that they were siblings," Quentin murmured.

"Well, are they?"

"She didn't say."

"Things are changin'," Kate cut in, still lovingly stroking Quentin's hair as he and Ace rested comfortably in her presence. "Y'all think that, if we keep this up, the Entity will do somethin'?"

"I think the Entity is weakening," Quentin said, lowering his voice slightly. "I think... it's stretched itself thin expanding this world to fit us all in... and now that we are fighting back, in our way, it can't handle it. Hence killers roaming where they shouldn't belong... maps converging... weird stuff happening. Like the red strings," he finished, tired eyes shifting up to look at Kate.

The blonde grinned down at him. "Now here I thought you just liked me," she said playfully.

"I do," Quentin replied softly.

Kate's cheeks warmed with a blush. "You're not so bad yourself," she responded, fingers running through his curly hair. "Smartest boy I ever met."

"I don't know about that," the teen stammered, blushing. "I-I'm just... thinking out loud. I believe Jake was right when he said this was it: the collapse. I don't think the Entity can take much more of this... and when it does all come crashing down, one of two things will happen: we'll be free... or we'll..."

"Die," Nea finished in a whisper.

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Meg had heard everything from her tent as she tried to sleep; and yet her mind would not quit whirling around in circles, replaying everything that had happened from start to finish. Everything had changed when he'd given her that drawing - but had it really happened before then? Was this predestined from the beginning?

She remembered what Evan had told her after he'd rescued her from Ormond, the look in his white eyes as he'd said it. That she was important to him. And yet...

The revelation of his murderous past still haunted her. He hadn't been a good person before the Entity had taken him - quite the opposite. He'd been a mass murderer.

But how he'd spoken of his father... Meg was certain she didn't have every piece of the story, but it sounded like... like his father had deeply abused him. Probably hurt Evan just like he'd hurt the miners. And he'd grown up believing that was love, that the abuse was just him being taught a lesson. It was a pathetically sad story, she realized, but could it really justify or explain killing over a hundred people??

And yet, even through all of these whirling thoughts, Meg found herself wanting to see him. For answers, she convinced herself; but even as she thought of his strong jaw and narrowed eyes, the angry white scar running down his regal face, she knew that wasn't wholly true.

And she hated herself for it.

Rolling over and forcing her eyes closed, she pushed back all desire to see Evan MacMillan and instead fell into a restless sleep.