╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
— DAY THREE —
season one, episode three, part one

❝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤?❞

─── • ───

⚠️ TW: mentions of physical abuse and addiction ⚠️

DOT CAMPBELL

For the first time since she'd stepped off the island, Dot Campbell felt free, free to dance aimlessly around the bunker where the girls and her had been staying since they were rescued. The music in her headphones was blaring as her feet danced around the room, moving to the beat of Fallen Angel by Poison without a care in the world.

Dot had since disappeared into the lyrics of the metallic melodies flowing from her headphones at mid-volume, her left hand clutched tightly around an ice-cream cone, while the other mimicked the strum of an imaginary air-guitar. The minty coolness of the ice cream flooded her tastebuds, intoxicating her, and Dot felt her shoulders relax as she hummed the lyrics aloud.

"And the work seemed harder, days seemed longer —"

Lost in her own little world, the redhead frolicked around the common space as she waited for her interrogation to begin. From room to room, she danced and laughed to herself, enjoying the simplicities of the life she'd been forced to leave behind while on the island. Dot, with another lick at her ice-cream, had not even realized that she'd danced her way towards the interrogation until the door opened behind her, revealing Faber and Agent Young as they stepped outside to greet her.

With a startled flinch at the sight of them, Dot felt her cheeks flush a bright pink as her chocolate-mint ice-cream flew from the cone, landing directly on the toe-end of Agent Young's shoe. Her eyes wide, she ripped her headphones out of her ears, letting them hang over her shoulders, as she offered an apologetic smile, caught in the act.

"Oh, shit," she cursed lowly, "I'm so sorry!"

Faber and Agent Young shared a look, unsure of what to make of their first interaction with the redheaded survivor.

Then, in a gruffly voice, Young cleared his throat and waved her off, saying, "Not a problem."

"Wait," Dot narrowed her eyes curiously, pointing between the two middle-aged men, "are you the dudes that are gonna ask me, like, a whole bunch of questions?"

"We are, indeed..." Agent Young responded, wiping the scoop of ice-cream from his shoe. "Those dudes."

"Shit, man," Dot laughed to ease the tension, taking a bite into the remnants of the ice-cream cone. "I'm really sorry, but you guys came out of nowhere."

"No apologies necessary," Faber spoke up before his partner could, smiling at the teenager. "It's good to see you having fun."

Dot laughed again, this time in spite of herself.

"Kind of earned it," she said bluntly, "don't you think?"

And Dot let the question hang in the air ominously before she brushed passed the two agents in the doorway, taking a seat at the long, silver office table in the interrogation room, ready to begin her hour of relentless questioning...

─── • ───

Blaire, along with the others, was awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of thunderous crashes of lightening and pouring rain. The rainstorm had come out of nowhere, hitting their makeshift campsite on the shoreline harder than anticipated.

The nine delegates on the beach had cried in anguish as the ice-cold pellets of rain poured on them; even the wind tousled their hair so much that it clung to their faces. Blaire felt a shiver down her spine at the coldness, and she pulled the hood of Fatin's sweater over her head, trying to maintain what minimal warmth she had left. Each of the girls, excluding Dot who had tried setting up empty cans to collect rainwater, had sheltered themselves under the clothes Fatin had provided for them, screaming as the force of the wind grew stronger with each passing second.

"Please, make it stop!" Blaire heard Martha yell a few yards away, hoping the storm would soon subside and allow them their much-needed rest.

"Come here," Shelby pulled the Native-American girl into her arms, throwing a crocheted blanket over both of them, despite Toni's distant frown. "I got you."

Then, over the sound of another clash of thunder, Leah called out, "I used to think thunderstorms were, like, majestic..."

"You think this is how Rachel McAdams felt during that scene in the Notebook?" Blaire asked the collective jokingly, trying to boost the morale. "That's pretty accurate, right? Minus our high-risk of starvation and the notable absence of Ryan Gosling, of course."

"Really?" Rachel's irritated voice echoed as another flash of lightening hit the shore. "That's your take?"

"What, I can't make one lame joke before I die from drowning?" Blaire groaned, earning an elbow to the ribs from Fatin, which, because of the additional force of the wind, made her stumble and lose her balance.

Dot then scrambled to her feet, her sights set on the darkened yellow fabric of the emergency slide she'd managed to salvage from the plane the day before. While her initial plan to use it as shelter was hindered by the extreme weather, the redhead still grabbed hold of one of the corners, lifting it high.

"Quick, everyone!" she called, dragging it closer to the others. "Grab an end and get under!"

Without having to be told twice, the eight remaining girls positioned themselves under the waterproofed material, rushing to find shelter from the harsh weather. Blaire slipped under without much hesitation, and her and the others breathed a little more steadily when the rain couldn't reach them. Their knees buried into the sand as they all huddled together under the slide, willing themselves to take advantage of the body heat coming from one another.

"How's your ankle?" Shelby asked Martha, their voices hushed now under shelter.

"Better, I think," the Native-American girl responding, scratching at her swollen ankle. "It's just so itchy..."

"Yeah," Leah agreed, and Blaire noticed everyone else was, too, scratching skin, "my leg's kind of itchy, too."

"Shit," Dot cursed aloud, "those'll be sand fleas."

"Sand what?" Fatin questioned, mortified.

"Sand fleas," Dot annunciated, clarifying herself in a loud voice for everyone to hear. "Well, they're not really, like, fleas. They're more like tiny, little shrimp."

"No, no," Fatin shook her head.

"They're not dangerous, just annoying," Dot elucidated, hoping that the others would stop scratching. "Once the rain stops, we can just go scrub them off, you know, before they get a chance to burrow."

"Burrow?" Blaire repeated in a soft voice, her eyes questioning. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Dorothy — ?"

But before Dot could respond, Fatin had thrown her hands up in a mock defeat and stepped out from underneath the emergency slide, screaming out in anguish to release her frustrations of their situation:

"FUCK. MY. LIFE!"

─── • ───

Dot had since requested lunch during her interrogation, taking Faber's offer of asking for anything much more wholehearted than the others. At her request, a few fast-food burgers, fries, and milkshakes were delivered, along with enough condiments to fuel her curiosity of various mixtures she wouldn't have otherwise had back home.

"So, this, uh..." Agent Young tried to turn the redhead's attention back to his questions as she ate her fries, "this rainstorm, this way day three, then?"

"Yep," Dot replied bluntly, shovelling more food into her mouth. "And, you know, it kind of sunk in at that point that our food situation was for shit, just crap from the plane — tiny little sandwiches, lots of bags of nuts..."

"That must've been discouraging," Faber offered his sentiments as Dot reached for a milkshake across the table.

"Yeah, morale was low," she told them, downing the milkshake in a single gulp, resulting in her taking a moment to rid her head of brain-freeze. "Well," Dot continued at last, "maybe not low, more like 'hangry'..."

─── • ───

"...blue crab sushi from Hinata drizzled in ponzu sauce, with just the lightest touch — just a kiss — of wasabi," Fatin daydreamed aloud the morning after the rainstorm as she, Martha, Shelby, and Blaire laid together in circle, heads touching on the sand, while Toni sat in the gap between Blaire and Martha's legs.

"Fuck being vegan," Blaire groaned, clutching at her rumbling stomach as the others laughed. "I'd give anything for a few chicken nuggets right about now."

"I just want some Indian tacos, the way my mom makes them," Martha shared with the group. "With black beans and Velveeta."

"Oh, I would destroy some Velveeta right now," Toni agreed, a small laugh eliciting from her lips. "Like, I would just house it straight from the packet."

"I'm thinking Cheesecake Factory," Shelby mused, earning furrowed brows from the others at her suggestion. "Four cheese pasta, fresh brown bread —"

"Okay, the Cheesecake Factory is grotesque," Fatin disagreed, scrunching her face in disgust. "I'm just saying, it's a mall restaurant for mall people. But hey, no judgement."

"What is a mall person? And why do you say it all derogatory like?" Shelby took offence and sat up on her elbows, though she quickly abandoned the conversation as the smell of burning wood flooded her senses. "Dottie," she called to the redhead, who was creating a fire a few yards away, "what is that?"

"Wet wood gets us black smoke, which gets us a signal fire," Dot explained in the simplest of terms, fanning at the flames to keep them alive. "Probably a good idea to keep it going during the day. And, guys, you know, I was pretty slack on this yesterday, and it cost us. We got to get real about shelter. If we all, you know, pitch in, grab the materials —" Dot cut herself off, sighing as Fatin raised her hand to speak. "Yes, lady in the leopard?" she signalled towards the Pakistani-American, who was indeed wearing an animal-printed, pink jumpsuit.

"That sounds really unappealing, and I'm exhausted," Fatin shot down the idea at once. "And there's rescue coming, so for those reasons, I'm out."

"Okay, just because you shot me down Shark Tank style doesn't make me any less annoyed," Dot argued, with a ghost of a sarcastic smile tugging at her lips. The two continued to go back-and-forth, not once raising their voices, before both Rachel and Leah stood abruptly and brushed the sand from their legs.

"All right, we gotta bounce before we get roped into this bullshit," Rachel crossed the sand towards her sister, who was doodling in her notebook a few yards away. "Nora, you coming?"

"Uh, I... I mean, if you want me to," Nora quickly shut the notebook in her hands and stood, fidgeting with her fingers under her sister's intense gaze.

"Yeah, why not?" Rachel shrugged, both her and Leah heaving the makeshift raft from the day before out from underneath a nearby tree. "Nora's a good swimmer," she said to Leah, "we're both water babies."

"Hey, where y'all going?" Shelby called out before the group of three could make their way down the beach undetected, and everyone else's attention shifted.

"We're swimming out to the wreckage, seeing if we can find anything useful," Leah responded as the continued towards the shoreline, the crashing of the waves muffling her voice the further she walked away.

"All right, just real quick, what do you guys think about building a shelter?" Dot yelled out after them, shielding her blue eyes from the bright sunlight.

"Not interested in laying down roots!" Rachel admitted, her voice fading out as they put more distance between themselves and the makeshift base.

"Au revoir!" Nora waved goodbye to the others before following quickly behind Leah and Rachel.

Then, as everyone seemed to oppose her idea of shelter, Dot huffed before she grabbed a few supplies, including her backpack and the pink visor she'd salvaged in one of the merchandise bangs, and stood abruptly. Blaire pulled herself into a sitting position at the redhead's movements, sharing a confused glance with Toni before Shelby finally broke the tension-filled silence, her eyebrows furrowed towards the girl she'd known since childhood.

"Dottie, where are you going?"

"If we're not building a shelter, I'm at least gonna look for a cave or some kind of big rock that we can duck under," Dot called over her shoulder, picking up a piece of driftwood to use as a walking stick before setting off. "Because believe it or not, the elements don't fuck around, and neither should we!"

Shelby sighed as Dot walked further and further down the beach.

"I'll go with her, it's probably best we stay in groups," the blonde told the others, dusting the sand from her pants as she stood. "Blaire," Shelby singled out the New Yorker with a hopeful smile, "you want to come with? I mean, we made a pretty good team out there yesterday."

Toni let out a singularly humourless laugh as the words left Shelby's mouth, and her gaze flitted towards Blaire, waiting for a response with baited breath. Their eyes met for a moment, and Blaire frowned at the awkward silence that suddenly lingered in the air. Then, as a few seconds of inaudible words were exchanged, she cleared her throat.

"I think I've reached my near-death experience quota for the week," Blaire declined with a shake of her head, scratching at the back of her neck anxiously, unaware that Shelby's smile had since faltered at her words. "So if it's all right, I think I'll sit this one out."

"Yeah, uh... no problem," Shelby looked away before tightening her blonde ponytail, and Blaire offered Toni a reassuring smile, which the Minnesotan did not seem to return. There was a heavy pause for a moment until, with one last wave of farewell, Shelby dashed off in the direction that Dot had headed in.

─── • ───

The morning came and went in the blink of an eye, and the four remaining delegates at the campsite had since paired off to welcome the afternoon. Martha and Toni sat a few yards away, their conversation filled with unwarranted tension, while Fatin and Blaire kept themselves occupied by the dimly-lit campfire.

Fatin, with her nose buried deep in Leah's ex-lover's romance novel, had left the responsibility to check on the fire with Blaire, who fanned at the flames to keep it alive every so often. The New Yorker didn't seem to mind, however, as she let the warmth of the sunlight embrace her skin, using her duty of maintaining the fire as an indication of her tanning intervals, turning over every time she tended to the flames.

Using her shirt as a headrest, Blaire looked to the sky, watching as the clouds floated above her through the lens of Fatin's Versace sunglasses she'd borrowed. Her moment of blissful silence was interrupted, however, as Toni walked into her line of sight, blocking the sun for a moment, before she sat down beside Fatin with an exasperated huff.

"How's your BFF?" Fatin asked to avoid the awkward silence, her eyes singling out Toni over the pages of Leah's book. Blaire pulled her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose as she sat up, interested in what had happened with Toni to warrant such a dramatic entrance into the conversation.

"You mean Martha?" Toni snarked, motioning over her shoulder to where the Native-American girl had since fallen asleep on the sand, with a few jackets draped over her for warmth. "She's over there sleeping off her pill bender."

Blaire pushed the sunglasses back up the bridge of her nose at that comment, with her shoulders tensing, almost as though it was one of the few indications of her withdrawal. Toni sighed, aligning herself in front of Blaire, trying to get the New Yorker to meet her gaze. But she refused, her eyes fixated on the flickering flames of the fire beside her.

"BFF," Toni scoffed after a moment of silence, "that's rich."

"Oh, no, did you guys have a domestic?" Fatin asked sarcastically, her gaze not once shifting from the annotations sprawled in the margins of Leah's book.

"I don't want to talk about it," Toni replied bluntly, and Blaire let out a small giggle at how little conviction was audible in her voice.

"How convincing," she rolled her eyes behind the lens of the Fatin's sunglasses. "Forget we even asked, then."

"I could be bleeding, right?" Toni confessed with a sigh, her walls lowering at the New Yorker's sudden interest. "Like, my guts could be spilling out into the streets, but if Shelby came along with a smile and some fucking muffins, then Martha would just walk right by me."

"In Martha's defence," Blaire fanned at the flames again, "I think that has more to do with our risk of starvation, then it does with your friendship. I mean, if Shelby brought back muffins right now, even I'd let her turn me into a fully-devoted Christian for a bite."

"Figures," Toni looked to Blaire with a scoff, her lips tight and eyebrows furrowed. "What's the deal with you two anyway? Like, why are you and the preacher's daughter such a 'good team' all of a sudden?"

Blaire was baffled at the sudden harshness in her voice. With her sunglasses now resting atop of her head, she looked at Toni, like really looked at her, noticing the way her jaw clutched with furious intent, the way her muscles tensed as though she was suddenly on edge. Before Toni caught her staring, she pulled her sunglasses back down, muttered something else under her breath that the other two didn't quite catch, and turned her attention back to the small fire.

"It was just a joke, Toni, okay? So retract those claws of yours," she orated angrily. "Like I told you last night, you have to learn to at least tolerate Shelby. Because we're all stuck on this island together whether you like it or not."

Still, Toni rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Oh my God," Fatin chimed in with a groan, her body physically cringing at the high-school-level dramatics. "See, this is why I don't get tight with girls. The drama, jealousy, the petty revenge schemes — it's so cringey and small."

"That's not what you told me last night," Blaire feigned a look of betrayal towards Fatin, with an underlying smirk etched on her face. "I thought we had something special, you bitch."

"Okay, first of all, I love it when you talk dirty," Fatin let a giggle fall from her lips. "And second of all, you know I wasn't talking about you, babes," she winked again at the New Yorker. "Like, you're basically my hot lesbian fantasy at this point."

"You two are ridiculous," Toni said hotly, shrugging off their conversation. "Martha's being taken for a ride. Because all Shelby wants to do is hang out with her long enough to put 'saved a little res girl' on her college apps. So, yeah, I'm not out here being petty... I'm just trying to protect my best friend —"

"Are you an Aries?" Fatin interrupted, looking at Toni with a tilt of her head. The basketball player turned with complete irritation, her eyes narrowing upon the cellist as the thought of Fatin ignoring everything she'd just said made the blood boil within her veins.

"What? Who the fuck cares? GOD!" Toni snapped harshly, shaking her head distastefully, before she stood and stormed away from the campsite with an exasperated huff. Blaire and Fatin watched her leave, glancing at one another in disbelief at her outburst.

"Yeah, she's definitely an Aries," Blaire muttered under her breath, and she and Fatin laughed in agreement.

Fatin reopened Leah's book as thoughts churned in head, and after a moment or two, she glanced over the pages towards Blaire and asked, "Scorpio?"

"Libra," Blaire mused, without missing a beat, and Fatin cursed out in disappointment at her wrongful guess.

"Fuck, I should've known," the Pakistani-American girl laughed in spite of herself. "That makes so much sense."

"What do you mean by that?" Blaire's stomach did a turn that kind of made her nauseous, her mind running miles ahead of her, wondering what Fatin could've possibly meant by such an insinuation.

"Well, Libra and Aries are on, like, opposite sides of the Zodiac," Fatin swallowed another laugh, confusing Blaire so much that her eyebrows knitted together, "and you know what they say about how opposites attract..."

Blaire's lips quirked into an awkward smile.

"What exactly are you trying to say, Jadmani?"

"Bitch, please, don't pretend like you haven't been cheating on me since the jump," Fatin turned another page of Leah's book, peering over the top with a smirk of mischief. "Now, while it was a bit of a blow to my ego at first, there was no way I could ignore that you and the She-Hulk were blatantly eye-fucking right in front me."

"I think you're imagining things," Blaire chuckled, and Fatin took a mental note that the New Yorker had yet to deny her suspicions. "You know I only have eyes for you, bubba."

"You keep telling yourself that," Fatin mused, "but I know sexual-tension when I see it."

Blaire sighed, pulling herself into a sitting position. She found her mind wandering back to their conversation and the way Toni looked at her, realizing that she was in fact drawn to her in a way she couldn't explain. Fatin seemed to pick up on the tension between them over the past few days but said nothing until now, deciding that being nosy about it and asking could make things awkward between the group.

"Toni probably thinks I'm a spoiled city girl," Blaire thought she sounded pathetic, almost as though she was back in high-school and caught in the midst of the petty drama. "And to be honest, I couldn't care less about some hothead I met three days ago. Because, in case you've forgotten, I've got a boyfriend back home."

"Yeah, and by the looks of things, he's not much of a keeper," Fatin caught Blaire completely off-guard with this comment, stirring a thick tension between them. Unable to stop herself, the Pakistani-American's gaze became fixated on the New Yorker's bruises, which were vibrant and noticeable in the afternoon sunlight.

Blaire pulled her legs to her chest and rested her elbows on her shaking knees, burying her face in her palms as a means to stop herself from letting the tears fall. Her past always came running, haunting her every time she felt the slightest bit of comfort, and she'd never felt more embarrassed every time it did.

"W-What — ?" Blaire mumbled and tried to gather herself, embarrassed that Fatin's eyes lingered on her. Her cheeks flushed a deep rosy colour, with her bottom lip between her teeth to will herself to rebuild her walls of protection.

Silence followed until Fatin spoke again, her eyes careful and uncertain as she focused on her friend.

"Listen," she muttered quietly, "I know it's wrong to assume, but I've been around the block enough to know where bruises like that come from —"

"Stop it," Blaire bit back harshly, looking down at her knees. "Fuck, please just stop..." she stopped herself, her jaw clenching instinctively before she stood abruptly, dusting the sand from her knees.

Fatin frowned at her Blaire's reaction.

"Where are you going?"

"For a walk," Blaire's lips formed a straight line and she fidgeted with her fingers, letting her converse carry her across the sand far away from the campsite. "Watch the fire," she told Fatin, who had no chance to respond before the New Yorker disappeared down the beach, desperately wanting to be alone for awhile.

─── • ───

The sun shimmered against the sapphire surface of the ocean as Blaire walked aimlessly alongside the shoreline, which reflected the afternoon sky that had become a cloudlessly perfect shade of blue. With her plaid shirt tied around her waist and her converse treading sand, her thoughts ran rampant as she became reacquainted with the several painful areas along her body, which were courtesy of her last encounter with her boyfriend.

Blaire bit the inside of her cheek as she carefully studied her forearms, trailing her fingertips along the skin as though to examine the extent of her bruises. She felt her eyes begin to prick with tears at the sight of her tanned skin now marred with large bruises, which were spaced out along her arms and neck, leading to the left side of her abdomen. Taking a deep breath, Blaire felt winded as the distorted image of her bruised arms and neck faded from her view, and the extent of Finn's fingerprints engraved on her skin were enough to take control of her consciousness...

"What the fuck?" Blaire found herself stood in front of her bedroom window, her eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her boyfriend, Finn Hayward, who'd stopped by to see her in the middle of the night. "Finn, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Sorry, I didn't realize it was a crime for a guy to want to see his girlfriend," Finn climbed through the window, almost as though it were second nature, and kept his voice down as to not wake his Peter Diamante in the other room. "What, aren't you happy to see me?"

"Not really," Blaire whispered just loud enough for Finn to hear, shuddering once his hand reached out to caress her cheek. "You know, considering the last time I saw my 'boyfriend', he shoved me and shattered my ankle..."

Finn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're still on about that? Blaire, I told you I was sorry," he pleaded with her, his tone low and raspy. "It was an accident, you know that, right? We were both wasted that night. Come on, you know I'd never hurt you on purpose."

"You've said that before," Blaire whispered, her voice cracking. "So I'm sorry, but I don't believe you anymore."

Finn's entire mood changed as those words left his girlfriend's mouth. With his nostrils flaring with anger, he was struck with the sudden desire to scream, the sudden desire to voice his frustrations. He wanted to show Blaire who she was talking back to but he restrained himself, for he was fully aware her father was in the room next door. So instead, Finn exhaled a single breath and took a step closer to Blaire, his left hand stroking her cheek, his right hand wrapping tightly around her waist.

"Finn, stop —"

"No, shut up," Finn hushed her with a glare that made her blood run cold. "For once, just shut the fuck up," he began anew, placing a finger over her lips. "I-I-I've got a problem, Blaire, and it makes me lash out. Please baby, I'm sorry..."

And without warning, Finn leaned in and kissed her, hoping the sweetness of his lips was enough to intoxicate her, to manipulate her into thinking that he was innocent. Defeated, Blaire let a single tear roll down her cheek at the embrace, her body trembling with a fear unlike any other. When her lips connected with his, she could no longer hold back; it felt like she was suffocating, like she was confined to a life she no longer wanted to live.

The taste of Finn's lips no longer gave her butterflies or a sense of loving comfort. Now his lips felt rough, heavy and uncomfortable against her own. Blaire even felt her body tense as her boyfriend dropped his hand towards her neck, his fingers gripped around her tightly, keeping her steady and motionless against him. The pit in her stomach grew more unbearable, and the kiss lasted only a few seconds until Blaire was finally pushed over the edge.

"Get out..." she pushed him off of her instinctively, wiping the tear from her cheek as Finn stumbled backwards ever so slightly. "Get out, or I will fucking scream."

"You're kidding, right?" Finn scoffed, offended. "Blaire, don't be like that —"

"I said get out," Blaire demanded of him again, trying to steady her voice as to not show him any signs of weakness. "I mean it," she gestured towards the window. "I need you to leave."

"Un-fucking-believable," Finn spat harshly, rolling his eyes at his girlfriend's melodrama. "You know what? Whatever," he went back out the window he came in, "I'll just see you at school tomorrow."

And without so much as a one-worded response, Blaire slammed the window down behind Finn and locked it, pulling the curtains closed with a breath of relief. Now isolated and alone, she didn't have to pretend anymore. The tears streamed down her face, treading mascara in their path, and Blaire wiped her mouth with her sleeve before collapsing to the floor next to her nightstand. Bringing her legs to her chest, she pressed her palms into her eyes in attempts to stop herself from crying, her chest hurting so much that even breathing burned her insides.

Blaire felt a prick of her own self-loathing that sat in the pit of her stomach, making her question what she ever saw in Finn Hayward to begin with. Then, overcome with emotion, she hadn't even realized what she was reaching for until it was too late. Her hands found the small packet of Oxycodone that Ricky had given her for her ankle injury, which contained four of the remaining yellow pills.

Without thinking, Blaire popped two of them into her mouth and swallowed hard, closing her eyes as one more white-hot tear streamed down her face. From that day forward, she found herself using the Oxycodone to numb everything except the physical pain of her ankle injury —

"You don't know when to quit, do you?"

The sight of the shore sprung to the forefront of her consciousness, and if it wasn't for the distant sound of Toni's voice, Blaire might've been trapped in the memory forever. Without realizing it, the New Yorker's converse had carried her along the beach, halting her directly in front of the area where Toni had retreated after her earlier outburst, with her legs sprawled out on the sand and the sour expression now ridden from her face.

"If you're here to talk me off another ledge, you can save your breath," Toni spoke again, and Blaire tried her best not to sob and fall on the ground. "It didn't work last night, so I fucking doubt it'll work now."

Blaire wiped the tears from her eyes and shot Toni a look, "It's a good thing I wasn't going to, then. Because, honestly, I'm really not in the mood for your shit."

"My shit?" Toni repeated resentfully, rising to her feet.

"Yeah, your shit," Blaire crossed her arms over her chest and saw a flash of red. "Why is it that you run so goddamn hot all the time? One minute you're fine and we can spend, like, an hour without wanting to kill each other, and then the next you're at my fucking throat over some petty high-school bullshit! So tell me, what the actual hell is your problem?"

Toni narrowed her eyes, clearly taken aback. Her eyebrows furrowed, her lips formed a tight line.

"My problem is you!" Toni screamed back. "My problem is you, Blaire! You're fucking everywhere, don't you get that? We're stranded on this island, thousands of miles from home, and I just don't understand why you care so much about trying to keep the peace, about trying to calm me down!"

"Well, fuck," Blaire laughed harshly; the movements of her hands were frantic, showing how frustrating she really was. "I'm extremely sorry for wanting to get to know you, Toni. Really, my sincere fucking apologies."

"Don't patronize me, Blaire," Toni yelled back and clutched her hands on her sides, gulping. "Like, you're literally driving me fucking insane!"

Blaire didn't reply to that for a moment, only painted a smug smirk on her face and walked closer to Toni. For a moment, the tension between them had become so intense that Blaire felt it weighing down on her chest; even Toni's was moving up and down, feeling out of breath like she had just run a marathon.

"Everyone seems to drive you insane, Toni," Blaire said finally, trying to keep her cool. "But hey, that's your choice. Here's to hoping you realize that if you keep pushing people away, you're going to end up alone."

Toni, visibly frustrated with Blaire pushing her buttons once again, inhaled and exhaled deeply to calm herself down. Blaire's words had struck her more than she would care to admit, and Toni subconsciously started trying to find reasons to blame herself for every fight she had had with the New Yorker. Maybe if she could understand what she was doing wrong, she could go and be the one to apologize this time.

This thought was short-lived, however, as Blaire scoffed at Toni's lack of response, and without caring how childish it was, she bumped into Toni's shoulder with her own and started to walk back towards the campsite.

"Wait, Blaire —"

Toni panicked and let the words slip from her mouth, her face having an unreadable expression. For a split second, the thought of storming off passed Blaire's mind, but she eventually decided against it and sighed, turning back around. Toni was staring back at her, hands in front of her torso, fingers fidgeting with each other. Her eyebrows were furrowed, not in that angry way they usual were.

If Blaire was being honest, Toni seemed upset. Stressed. Her lips were in a tight line, with the corners of her mouth going slightly downwards. So as angry or upset she herself was, it would be impossible to just flip Toni off or tell her to go to hell when the basketball player was looking like that. Instead, Blaire merely quirked an eyebrow and said nothing, waiting for Toni be the one to address the uncomfortable silence.

Toni was hesitant. Maybe she was indeed expecting Blaire to storm off without giving her the time of day.

"I know I'm being so fucking stupid, I just —" she tried again, her tone uncertain. "Can we start over?"

Blaire said nothing again. Not because she was still very much aggravated with Toni, but because she just simply didn't know what to say. Either way, Toni didn't take her silence as a sign of optimism and retreated.

"You know what? Forget it," Toni didn't mean to let those words come out of her mouth, didn't mean that to be the first thing she'd say when she would have found the words to talk. "It's probably better if you hate me, anyways."

Blaire was taken aback by that.

"What makes you think I hate you?"

"Except from the way you constantly try to start shit with me?" Toni let with a small, almost faint chuckle then let her face completely fall down. "I don't know. Why wouldn't you?"

Blaire's nerves started to calm down, her heart clutching at the sight of Toni a few feet away from her.

"Why do you hate me?" Blaire asked, and Toni felt her stomach turning with a painful twist at this comment.

"I don't hate you, Blaire," she was quick to reply.

"Yeah, right," Blaire said at once, the last word accompanied with a laugh. She didn't believe her, not right now anyway. Maybe she would have if the only thing that had happened was their conversation last night, if the only thing that had happened between them was them spending time together and talking.

But as always, that wasn't the only thing that happened. Blaire and Toni fought again, and with each word they screamed to each other, it all cut deeper.

"I don't," Toni repeated, her eyes pleading.

"How did you say it?" Blaire shook her head and looked to the crashing waves beyond Toni. "You're literally driving me fucking insane?"

"That's not fucking fair," Toni flinched at the repetition of her earlier words. "We both said shit. We both always say shit. You don't see me narrating them back to you."

Blaire sighed again and shifted her sole focus to Toni, meeting her gaze for the first time since their fight.

"You're right," she admitted in spite of herself.

They both looked at each other, and the atmosphere settled down a bit. The tension was suddenly not as thick, but still very much present. Toni was sure she had her thoughts in order, but as she went to open her mouth, Blaire spoke up first.

"But you need to stop that," she whispered lowly, with a tilt of her head.

"Stop what?" Toni questioned.

"Thinking that everyone is out to get you," Blaire explained, and Toni swallowed hard. Deep down, she knew it was true, yet the stubbornness she built inside her wouldn't let her admit it, as much as she wanted to. "Things would've been so much different if every time I tried to talk with you, you'd just stop acting like I was your fucking enemy."

"So it's my fault?" Toni defended again. She wasn't used to getting called out like this, especially when the thing she was getting called out for was true. "What about you being so irritatingly indecisive? One minute you're calling me a bitch on the plane, the next you're checking in on me and making sure everything's okay. I don't understand you, Blaire."

"You haven't tried," Blaire's head was no longer tilted; it was raised and alarmed, looking at Toni intensely. "You haven't tried to understand me, Toni." she continued, trying to prove a point. "And honestly? I haven't tried to understand you either."

Toni was about to go off again, probably say things that Blaire would return and then their cycle would continue, but she was taken aback at Blaire's honesty and admittance of what she'd done wrong as well.

"And I get it if it's not easy for you to let people get close to you. Or, like, care about you," Blaire admitted, as calm and honest as she could. "You must have your reasons — I know I do. But, like, I can't read your mind, Toni. I can't just suddenly know what's bothering you or what I'm doing wrong that has me under your skin all the time."

Blaire knew Toni was upset, and even if she wanted to ignore that because of her ego and put how much Toni upset her first, she simply couldn't. Not when Toni was there, in the state that she was. She wasn't crying, but Blaire's subconscious told her that the sight of Toni crying would be heart-shattering, mainly because Toni was always so fierce and passionate. Blaire had never seen any sign of vulnerability coming from the basketball player before, and now that there clearly was a sign, she just wanted to understand her.

But only if Toni let her.

Toni, on the other hand, was so used to Blaire's stubbornness at the point that the last thing she expected was to hear her talking like this; being as calm as she was, being honest and owning up to her own mistakes just to ease the tension. Nobody had done that for Toni in a really, really long time.

And she hated it.

Toni hated how her anger was just washed away with Blaire's words, hated how she felt so exposed in front of a girl she barely knew.

"I don't hate you," Blaire spoke again, realizing Toni wasn't going reciprocate her thoughts. "You're a pain in the ass most of the time, but I don't hate you."

If Toni's heart hadn't burst out of her chest earlier, she was sure it was about to right at that moment. Her lips quirked into a rare smile, and Blaire reciprocated it, her eyes still on Toni as she waited for a response.

"You don't?" she asked insecurely, looking at her feet.

"Hey," Blaire nudged Toni on the arm, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't question it too much."

"That's easier said than done," Toni admitted softly, her skin prickling with sudden embarrassment.

"Then just focus on what you know for sure," Blaire suggested, with a playful smile. "You know you don't hate me. You know I barely tolerate you."

Toni's eyes met Blaire's with a look of mischief.

"Is that right?"

"We're starting over, okay?" Blaire assured her, letting a soft giggle fall from her lips. "Like you said before."

"Okay," Toni echoed, her relief almost tangible. "Good idea."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaire laughed again, her cheeks flushing pink. "Just don't make me regret this, Shalifoe."

And together, they shared one last look before walking back in the direction of the campsite in an unspoken agreement, both of them having reconciled their differences. However, Blaire and Toni hadn't made it far before they stumbled across the upper torso of male mannequin buried in the sand, with a defined abdomen and a missing right arm poking out.

Toni furrowed her eyebrows and walked closer to it, digging it up from the sand without much hesitation. Blaire hovered over her, her eyes wide with intrigue.

"How'd you miss this guy on the way over here?" Toni asked with a laugh, lifting the mannequin into her arms. Blaire tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I was, uh..." she trailed off for a moment, "lost in my own little world, I guess."

Toni looked back at her hesitantly as silence stretched between them. Blaire moved her hands a lot out of anxiousness, and Toni watched them move left-to-right while she was talking, noticing the New Yorker's rings and small finger tattoos. Before Blaire caught her staring, however, Toni's lips formed a straight line and she lightly nodded like she understood something, making the Blaire's heart race inexplicably. Maybe she knew without having to be told, without having to ask intrusive questions about Blaire's past: a fresh start.

"So what do you think?" Toni spoke again, not pressuring Blaire into explaining herself. "Should we bring it back with us?"

"Absolutely," Blaire nodded at once. "We've been here for three days, so I think it's safe to assume that Fatin's in desperate need of a new man-friend."

Toni laughed at that.

"Even if he's made of plastic?"

"Something tells me she'd prefer him made of plastic."

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author's note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

hope you enjoyed chapter five!!

i'm obsessed with blaire and fatin's friendship omg <3 lmk what you guys thought of the chapter!! how are we feeling about blaire and her past so far?

[insert begging for comments and votes]

love you guys! follow for more content <33

xo, selena

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