"Behind my eyelids are islands of violence.
My mind ship-wrecked, this is the only land my mind could find." 21 Pilots
Kayla had never known hatred before.
It was completely foreign to her, an emotion she had never allowed herself to feel. She always tried to believe that there was good in people. That everyone had their own story and reasons for why they acted the way they did.
But looking at her brother now, she realised there was only one word for the emotion that was bubbling up inside her; hatred. He had killed a little girl. He had lied to her, kept secrets from her and now he had killed Noah too. If he had just come clean about what he and Savannah had done, maybe Noah's death could have been avoided.
She was angry at herself for feeling this way, and that made her hate him even more. There was no denying it, the pedestal she had held Ryder on for so long was not only shattered, it was completely obliterated. Turned to dust and blown away by a gust of wind, never to return again.
She watched as Ryder crawled towards Noah's body and fought the urge to push him away. To tell him he didn't deserve to be anywhere near the corpse of the boy he had killed. She stepped backwards to prevent herself from doing so as Ryder picked up Noah's smashed in head and attempted to piece it back together.
As if Noah was a puzzle that Ryder could force back into place.
"Please Noah, wake up." Ryder's sobs filled the room, his hands filled with shards of skull and brain matter. "I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry."
The sight made Kayla's stomach turn uneasily and she felt the bile rise up her throat as more and more blood was smeared on the floor, on Ryder and on Noah's corpse. The sick squelching sound was too much and if she had anything left inside her, she knew she would throw up.
"Stop it man." Aaron had walked up to Ryder and was shaking his shoulder. "It's too late, please stop."
Savannah was retching in the corner, the sound further pushing Kayla's gag reflex to its limits. It was all too much; the sight of Ryder with brain and bone in his hands, the blood congealing on the floor, Savannah vomiting. This had to be a hallucination, it couldn't possibly be real life.
It was the kind of moment that only happened in the worst horror movies, one's that Noah had loved but Kayla had watched between her fingers. It was an all-too-real depiction of a nightmare, bloody and bare in front of her eyes. She couldn't take it, she couldn't handle what was happening. Everything was real, she was somehow immune to the serum.
Noah was dead. Ryder was a killer.
Hate. Blood. Brain. Bone.
Dead.
The call of insanity was tempting. It beckoned to her and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, telling her that everything would feel better if she just embraced it. It tugged at her consciousness and pushed passed her restraints, breaking down her barriers. And Kayla was running out of will power to fight against it.
It would be easier not to feel the pain, the heart ache, the terror. She could welcome the nothingness with open arms and forget everything that happened in this nightmare of a room. She wanted it, wanted a release from the fear and disgust.
The insanity called her once more, and Kayla, tired of hurting, embraced it
Something inside of her snapped like a rubber band that had been stretched too far. She felt it as if it was a tangible thing, as if she had pulled it with her own hands. She fell to the floor, not even feeling the ground hit her knees.
Her eyes remained open and unseeing, everything inside of her turning to ash.
When he had been a child, Isaiah had fallen into the swimming pool at his father's friend's house.
He didn't remember exactly how it had happened, or why no one had been watching him. But what he did remember was fighting for air, trying to find his way to the surface. He remembered trying to stay conscious long enough for someone to find him.
That was how he felt now.
Consciousness was a slippery eel that he couldn't keep in his grasp. Every time he blinked, his eyes stayed closed for longer periods of time. He was trying so hard to fight it, to stay awake. Now that Anna was dead, Jon needed him to find those kids. He and Jon were the only two left that could save them.
The kids, remember the kids. Stay awake.
He heard Jon call his name, but it sounded very far away, and muffled. As though Isaiah was still a child, slipping below the surface of the water. He needed someone to pull him out. His eyes lids lowered again, and Isaiah tried and failed to open them. He had fought as long as he could, but now the darkness was clouding his mind, he needed to sleep.
A sharp stinging slap cracked across his cheek, sending jolts of pain through his face. His eyes opened to find Jon, gripping the collar of his shirt and shaking him roughly, yelling his name over and over again.
"Please Isaiah, I need you to stay awake. We need to find the kids."
Isaiah blinked several times, trying to get used to the image in front of him. Jon's frantic face leaning so close to his, red covering his hands. "You're getting blood on my shirt." Isaiah managed to mumble through the haze. "My wife bought it for me."
"Thank fuck." Jon breathed a sigh of relief, releasing Isaiah. "Now I know you're okay."
"I don't feel," Isaiah struggled to find the word, "right. Everything's foggy."
"I guess the fear of your wife scolding you for ruining your shirt is stronger than the effects of knockout gas."
Isaiah chuckled, but it was weak, he was still trying to sift through the smoke that clouded his brain. He pushed himself to his feet and swayed unsteadily, gripping on to the edge of the table to keep himself upright. "Hurry, Jon."
"Right, fuck." Jon stood up and immediately went to the table, sifting through its contents. His hand grazed a laptop and he opened it, impatiently waiting for a page to load.
Isaiah picked up a notebook, his vision slightly blurry. Words jumped off the page at him, jumbled and nonsensical.
Dark haired girl first to be affected.
Curly haired boy defeated serum.
Serum caused dark haired boy to murder his friend.
Blonde girl has placebo.
The word 'murder' stood out above the rest. "Jon, I think-," but he was interrupted by his partner before he could finish his sentence.
"One of the kids is dead. We're too late." Jon turned the laptop screen so Isaiah could see it., Surveillance footage showed the kids in the room. Even through the grainy quality, the blood splattered across the floor was clearly visible.
"The rest. We can save them."
Jon leaned closer to the screen, his eyes searching for any defining detail he could possibly find. "Closed in walls, no windows. Metal door with no handle." He paused for a moment, looking through the contents of the desk until he found a remote. "Probably opened with this."
"Underground. Basement or something." To Isaiah it was the only thing that made sense. Of course they were underground, they had to be. "We need to search the floor for an opening. Jon, go, now. I'll call an ambulance."
Jon nodded once, glancing at his partner, "you'll be okay?"
"I'm right behind you." Isaiah said, hoping that he could continue to fight off the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. Jon raced out the door and back towards the farm house, and Isaiah trailed slowly behind him on shaky legs.
We're coming kids.