Tasi would give anything to turn back the clock by one week. Her mother had called her then and asked, with genuine sincerity but also worry, if she wanted to quit and come home. Tasi had declined. If she'd known what the week ahead had in store for her, she would've said yes. Would've packed her bags and hopped on the first flight to Honolulu and then the first bus to Kaneohe.

Stubbornness kept her in Arkansas. It had started as a childhood desire to see the mountains her father's mother grew up near. Then it became a desire to see everything -- the states, the continents. The tigers in the jungles of India. The frozen lakes of Greenland. The sea so salty, one could float without effort. But travel required money, and money required a job, and the Paradise Hotel was hiring at the time. Quitting meant validating her mother's claims that there was no use in her dreams. Tasi had to prove having this job wasn't a mistake, and coming to Arkansas wasn't a mistake, and she certainly could follow her dreams.

But what good were one's dreams when another held so much power over you? What good were Elijah's dreams, or Tate's dreams, or Margaret's dreams, when Tally could end them with as much care as someone wiping a squashed bug off their shoe?

She wanted to dress Tally's wound with that same care. So she said she had no way to take out the bullet, even though there was a pair of perfectly sized tongs in the kitchen, and she probably could do it if Tally insisted, as bloody as it would be, but Tally did not, in fact, insist. Tasi wrapped the wound tightly with gauze and then squeezed it shut with a strip of tape. If Tally weren't watching her like a hawk, she would've tried to infect it somehow. Stuck her fingers right in there so all the germs of the Paradise Hotel could attack her from the inside.

But Tally had both the shotgun and the handgun on her, and Tasi would prefer to live.

Earlier, when Tally had taken Tasi to go get the kerosene, back when Margaret and Tate were still alive, Tally had confessed that she'd left Luke's handgun behind on purpose. She told Tasi she wanted to see if they would attempt anything. She was almost certain they would, and that they would fail, as she'd made sure those knots couldn't be undone. At least not in the amount of time she planned to give them to try. She was also certain that none of them except Luke, who was most definitely concussed, knew how to use the gun. She was also certain that even if they did, she was a better shot and would come out victorious.

She'd been wrong about them undoing their knots in time. She'd been wrong about Luke being the only one who knew how to shoot. She'd been right about coming out victorious anyway.

Tasi hadn't replied once. She wasn't sure her response was even wanted. It was so strange, the way Tally described the situation like they were old friends catching up. There was an ease with the way she spoke. At least, there had been. When Tasi dressed the wound, there was no more ease. Only a silent fury. Margaret was right, even if it had cost her her life to be honest. Tally was not happy with the way her game was going. The pieces were not cooperating.

When the wound was taken care of, as much as it could be, Tally led Tasi back to the lobby. As Tasi walked in, she hoped with every fiber in her being that Luke and Elsie wouldn't be there, that they'd found a way out of this Hell, but they were there. Their ropes looked the same. Neither had moved their chairs even an inch. Margaret's and Tate's blood was pooled around them.

Tally gestured for Tasi to sit on the little step near the Christmas tree, and Tasi did as she was told. How many times had she vacuumed this step? Hundreds. Yet she remembered the stains that once were. The footprints that once were. She remembered that she was so bad at cooking when she first started working here, none of the guests bought from the cubbies and drove all the way down to Little Rock instead. That was the year the hotel got raccoons, because she had to throw so much food away, and the garbage truck only came so many times. That was also the year she decided to keep only some of the cubbies full. That was her first year.

And the bar? She remembered the way it looked before she redid it. It was her that set up the glasses in the charming way they were arranged in now. It was her that kept the crystal shelves clean. And the reception desk Tally was leaning against? It was the same desk that was here when she first started. Tasi knew that desk inside and out; she didn't have to look where she was reaching when she needed to pull something out of its drawers and cabinets. 

And the chairs that Luke and Elsie were tied up in? She'd ordered those a year ago because the old ones were losing their legs. The lounge couches, though, management wouldn't budge on. They'd likely be here till the day the Hotel finally closed for business. That wouldn't happen for decades to come, and by then, she'd be long gone. She would either be dead, considering how terribly this night was going, or she would be on her fifth tropical island, walking her tenth beach, watching her thousandth wave rush around her feet.

"Hey!"

Tally's sharp voice snapped Tasi out of memory lane. She realized they were all looking at her with varying degrees of interest -- how long had she been ignoring them?

"You've been awfully quiet," Tally commented. "What are you thinking about?"

Again with that ease, that friendly tone that had Tasi fooled when she first checked into the Hotel, but now she recognized it as a trick.

"I'm thinking," Tasi replied, "that I hate my job. And you're a bitch."

It was out of her mouth before she thought it through. Elsie and Luke would be telling her off if they could, but instead they only widened their eyes at her, a warning behind the action. Tasi didn't really care; it was worth it. Then she wondered if Margaret thought it was worth it right before she was murdered.

Tally's eye twitched, but ultimately, she laughed. "It seems like everyone's got a mouth these days," she said coolly. "What is it about this place that's making y'all act so crazy? I have seen such terrible decision-making tonight."

"Yours included?" Tasi asked.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut this time, and Elsie looked like she was going to start crying again. Tasi felt her mouth and throat go dry. She never talked this way to anyone. Of all the times to develop a spine, why did it have to be now?

Tally's smile fell slowly. "Sure," she said. "Mine included."

It was a softer response than Tasi had expected. "Then make a good decision now," Tasi said carefully, "and do what Margaret said. Disappear into the night, and we won't say a word."

Unlike last time, Tally didn't even consider it. "It's over for y'all," she sighed. "I wish you'd just accept that."

If it's over, then why not kill us right now? This time, Tasi kept her mouth shut, not wanting to provoke her further. She knew the answer, anyhow. It was more fun this way. 

Tally turned her attention back to Luke and Elsie. From where Tasi sat, she studied Tally's side-profile. She made mental notes of her features, just in case she did end up surviving the night and needed to give the authorities a description. She knew Luke had written notes, but given his state, Tally likely already took anything from him that could be used against her. So Tasi tried her best to study, but she took it so unseriously, forgetting the details almost immediately as she swept her eyes across the killer's face, and she realized she was lying to herself about her fifth island and tenth beach and thousandth wave. Her hopes were gone. It really was over for them.

The chairs.

Tasi blinked, remembering. The chairs that Luke and Elsie were tied up in, the ones she'd ordered when the old ones were falling apart -- they were the cheapest the Hotel could find. The legs weren't built into the seat, or carved with the rest of the chair, or elegantly screwed in, like all the nice, expensive chairs. No. These legs were foldable. Collapsible. Easily made, and for easy storage. And there was a small latch that locked them in place, a latch that, when flipped the other way, would allow the legs to collapse, sometimes even when people were sitting in the chair, which was part of the reason they were cheap.

Tasi knew where the latch was. She knew how much force the legs needed before giving in.

Tally had both guns within reach, but her hands were resting on her knees.

Tasi sprung to her feet and rushed at Tally, body-slamming her right off the desk. In the precious seconds that Tally spent stumbling sideways onto the ground, Tasi raced behind Elsie's chair, pushed the latch, kicked the legs in, and then did the same to Luke, and they both collapsed with their chairs to the floor, the ropes now loosened by the new geometry. By the time Tally was scrambling to stand up, the handgun had fallen and scattered across the floor, but her shotgun was still over her shoulder, and Luke and Elsie had wiggled out of their ropes and were getting to their feet.

Tasi could've tried to grab both guns after the tackle instead of freeing Luke and Elsie, but if she had failed, Tally certainly would've killed all of them. The best option she saw was to free them and pray they all ran out the door before Tally got her shotgun ready. 

She was wrong about how much time they had.

Tally had her shotgun ready at the exact moment Luke and Elsie were able to stand.