ISOBEL “IZZY” CONNELLY ( OLIVIA SCOTT WELCH ) is an EIGHTEEN year old from WARRENTON, OREGON. she is known around the island as THE FETTERED because she is WITTY and AMIABLE but can also be SKEPTICAL and RETICENT. she reminds of sad smiles, small yellow bruises, fingers drumming against denim.
BASICS !
NAME: isobel eleanor connelly
NICKNAMES: izzy
BIRTHDAY: 01/25/2003
AGE: 18
HOMETOWN: warrenton, oregon
BIRTHPLACE: warrenton, oregon
RELIGION: agnostic
ETHNICITY: caucasian
NATIONALITY: american
EDUCATION: senior in high school
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single
SOCIAL CLASS: middle class
PHYSICAL !
HEIGHT: 5′7
EYES: bright blue
HAIR: dark blonde
BUILD: thin, lanky
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: countless scars from medical procedures, dark circles under eyes
NOTABLE FEATURES: big eyes, baby face, flyaway hair
PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: asthma
ALLERGIES: bee stings
PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR !
HOBBIES: softball, writing poetry, playing bass, swimming
LIKES: mitski, being away from home, polaroids, animals, making people laugh, having agency of herself
DISLIKES: medical procedures, asthma attacks, bright lights, public speaking, being controlled, men
QUIRKS: bites her nails
STRENGTHS: resilient, level-headed, some small medical know-how
WEAKNESSES: ineloquent when it comes to her emotions, guilty, pessimistic
POSITIVE TRAITS: witty, amiable, kind
NEGATIVE TRAITS: reticent, skeptical, cynical
MENTAL DISABILITIES: undiagnosed depression
FUN FACTS !
izzy is oregon’s first ‘designer baby.’ a doctor chose an embryo with the same chromosomes as izzy’s older sister, amelia, who had cancer, because amelia needed izzy’s chord blood.
izzy journals obsessively. for posterity, she says.
touch starved. will pull a leah rilke and put her head in your lap at any given moment.
she’s missing a kidney - she gave one to her sister, who eventually rejected it, and died six weeks prior to the dawn of eve trip.
after her sister died, izzy went to a party and took some drugs that she was told were molly. she had a bad reaction, and woke up in the hospital, hence why izzy is here.
IZZY’S OUTFIT ON THE FLIGHT !
oversized jean jacket
oversized varsity hoodie for her high school swim team
her sister’s striped t-shirt
white t-shirt bra
white underwear... just regular underwear idk??
ripped light wash jeans
white socks
beat-up red converse
a small silver letter necklace - a c, for connelly
IZZY’S PERSONAL ITEMS !
her inhaler & a bottle of her asthma meds in a little plastic bag
The tension Odessa was carrying in her body melted away when she felt Izzy’s arms encircle her. Selfishly, she held onto the other girl, drawing her close and soaking in every ounce of comfort she felt from the contact. God. I was - I was really scared. Her throat grew tight at Izzy’s words, holding in every god-awful emotion that wanted break out inside of her. What happened was frightening. It etched fear deep into her bones. The possibility of her not being here, not doing this, was far more real than either of them would have liked. This island was dangerous, and it didn’t matter how safe they tried to be, they would always be at risk one way or another. The thought of it made her arms tighten around Izzy – needing to feel grounded, to feel so physically close to someone so she could know that she was here, alive. “Me too.” She got out, just barely but she said the words. If she wasn’t so grateful to be warm with her heart still beating, the vulnerability might have paralyzed her. Odessa pressed her mouth against Izzy’s shoulder, breathing her in and holding onto the moment. All of this gratefulness, this appreciation for being able to walk and breathe and talk and hold onto someone, it compelled her to say what’s been at the back of her mind since she saw Izzy rushing to her in the water. She moved away from the other girl, putting some space between them so she could see her.
“Hey, um, Iz–” Odessa’s gaze was pointed downward, starting at Izzy’s hands as she reached to hold one of them. She didn’t know what she wanted to say exactly but she knew she had to do this. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked at the two words. She hardly said them. It felt foreign in her mouth. “I said a lot of shit last night. A lot of things I didn’t mean and–” If things didn’t go their way today, they would have been the last thing she said to Izzy and they were so, so needlessly cruel. Odessa needed Izzy to know she didn’t mean any of it. “I’m– I’m just really sorry.” She pushed out a shaky breath, wanting desperately for the tears that had welled at her eyes to go away. She sniffled. “I was a really shitty friend last night.” Shitty person in general. God, that fucking power play cunt move she pulled with Elise. This wasn’t the only apology Odessa had to make today. “You’re a really good friend to me. And I don’t deserve what you did for me today, especially after last night, but I just – I want you to know that I’m grateful. Like, incredibly so, that you’re a much better person than I am. To have even thought to look for me while everything was happening. And risk you own life to go after me…” She shook her a little. “All of it.”
-
if izzy were any further away from a full on breakdown, she’d probably laugh a little bit at this - as odessa, mere minutes out of a near death experience, apologizing to her for their dumb, drunken fight. as if it actually, like, matters anymore. like - maybe it does matter, in a way, or at least maybe there was one point in the center of all of it that they should talk about sooner or later, but - odessa’s alive, which seems a lot more important than any of the stupid shit that they said did. ( and then there’s the brief but stark thought that makes izzy’s blood run cold all over again: what if that had been the last things they’d said to each other? the last words they exchanged? ) izzy grips tighter ar odessa’s hands. “odessa, it’s - it’s okay, seriously, i mean that’s - i’m sorry, too, okay? it was all, like - it was so dumb, i don’t even - ” she honestly doesn’t want to think too hard about it, because she’s pretty sure she embarrassed herself horrendously, and between the hangover and the near death experience, she isn’t sure she wants to tackle being absolutely mortified on top of that. “seriously, it’s - would it be too soon to called it water under the bridge?” izzy asks, and she gives a watery, broken little laugh at her own dumb joke.
at odessa’s next words, though - i don’t deserve what you did for me today - izzy shakes her head immediately, a little jarred. “dess, oh my god, don’t say that. don’t say that, i’m serious - god, odessa, it was a fight, i don’t - i’d never just, like - just not care that - that - ” but izzy can’t will herself into finishing what she’s starting to say, which is that fight or not, izzy would be completely beside herself if anything ever happened to odessa. “i’m not, like - i just - i thought of you,” izzy finishes finally with a weary little shrug. of course izzy thought of odessa; she thinks about odessa more than she should, maybe. but what’s odessa implying, exactly? that if the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t have done the same? that she wouldn’t have gone after izzy? izzy doesn’t think odessa is giving herself enough credit, but, then again - she’s a little too afraid to ask, because what if she’s wrong about that? not that she could blame odessa for not feeling the same. not that any of it matters now, with both of them more or less okay.
No more sleeping on the beach. Yeah, no shit. Odessa wanted to make wry comment but considering she just narrowly escaped death less than ten minutes ago, she was going to conserve her energy and not to do that. It’d better to keep her head down, focus on hobbling toward the tree line and not losing her grip on Izzy. Besides, her throat still felt weird and she doubted she’d sound as clever as she wanted to be when she was still coughing here and there. She turned her head, catching sight of the tearful look on Izzy’s face. Odessa wanted so badly to stop them where they were, get a few words out of the way first, but she knew that would be stupid. Priorities, the word rung in her head. Safety first. Apologies – and there were many to be made – had to come after. At Izzy’s repeated question, Odessa made an indifferent noise. “Um… yeah.” She nodded, to reiterate that and to further assure Izzy. “Yeah, I’m alright.” Was it totally honest? Probably not. But Odessa was still in shock of what happened. She needed time to process it, really let it sink in. (Which she wasn’t looking forward to.) But for now, she was here – breathing, moving, with Izzy – so at face value, she was okay. “Are you okay?” She said after a beat. She’d asked it before but Izzy was more concerned with her then. Maybe now that they’re on their feet, putting more distance between themselves and the ocean, Izzy would be more willing to give her some insight. “It was rough out there.” The waves. Hauling her back. It was a lot. Izzy may have been a strong swimmer but she was also asthmatic wasn’t she? Not to mention the whole ‘recovering from major surgery’ thing. That had to take a toll. “Hey, let’s stop here,” she said once she noticed just how far they’d gone. Near a cluster of boulders. By the tree line. Odessa stepped away from Izzy to plop down on one of the larger rocks. “Take a break, c’mon.” She patted the space beside her. They were far enough now. They could stop for a bit, catch their breath properly.
-
izzy's admittedly still a little skeptical over odessa’s insistence that she’s alright, and worry swirls in izzy’s chest somewhere near the rapid thudding of her heartbeat as she hauls them both further and further up the shore, trying to get to safety. the more distance that grows between them and the waves, the more relieved izzy feels, though there’s still a pit in her stomach from the pure blind fear of it all. “i’m okay,” she waves odessa off quickly - a little winded and scared shitless, sure, but they’re alive, aren’t they? jesus. odessa could have died, and izzy was able to help get her to safety. that counts for something. “i’m okay if you’re okay,” izzy adds, finding that although she’s grown to detest the repetitive occurence of natural disasters, she is still grateful - grateful they’re both alive, grateful their story didn’t end there, just grateful to see odessa’s face, because again: oh, god, what if something had happened? what if this had ended differently? she almost can’t think about it, because it’s too gruesome, too awful. it was rough out there. izzy gives a barking little laugh. “yeah. yeah, jesus,” because isn’t that a little bit of an understatement? once odessa prompts her to take a break, izzy gulps, nods, closes her eyes tightly for a moment to gather her composure, and then she sits down beside odessa, the world toppling a little bit. god. she’s only still for a second before she can’t help herself, and she wraps her arms around odessa, holding her close, just relishing in the fact that she’s okay, fuck, they’re both okay. “god,” izzy mumbles again into the crook of odessa’s shoulder. “i was - i was really scared.”
Hearing a choppy little laugh from Izzy was far better than the repeated oh gods filled with disbelief and fear. Every single one reminded her that she almost just– No. She wasn’t going to think about that. “Yeah, that was…” Fucking terrifying. Absolutely traumatizing. Searing fear into the inside of her skull. “…fucking close wasn’t it?” She settled for saying. Odessa moved to sit up. She didn’t want to spare too much thought on it. Because she couldn’t. Not right now at least. Sat up, she turned her head to the side and looked Izzy, taking in her widened eyes and the heavy breaths from her parted lips. “I know, Iz. I know.” She held on tighter to the hand of Izzy’s that she was holding. What just happened was… She couldn’t think about it. Like her brain physically stopped her, put a whole damn wall up, when she attempted venture into what just happened minutes ago. So be it then, she thought. At the moment, it was probably for good reason. “I’m okay,” she answered, more out of instinct than contemplation. I think, she wanted to add but didn’t. Odessa turned her head toward the ocean, seeing just how far the tide had risen up. It was insane. And though they were away from it, they weren’t that far away. It was still steadily climbing. “We should get out of here. Move up.” She looked behind them. Toward the jungle. Then she turned back to face Izzy. She stared at her for a long moment. More awake than ever. There was so many things she wanted to say to the other girl but she didn’t have the capacity to make sense of every thought that wanted attention in her head right now. So instead, she reached out to touch Izzy’s face with her other hand, letting her thumb brush against Izzy’s cheek in a silent ‘thank you’ before she moved to try and get up. “C’mon. We should go. Recover somewhere safer.” She was a bit wobbly – understandably – but gripping onto Izzy for some balance, she managed to get on her feet. “Do you know where the others are?” They were a bit down the shore from camp, seeing as Odessa had wanted her space from the girls after last night’s events. “Are they okay?” If Izzy slept in the cave and she was awake and okay, that gave her some confidence that the others were probably doing just fine too.
-
as odessa moves to sit, izzy places a steady hand in the center of odessa’s back, doing what she can to support her. though it seems the worst is over, worry still swirls around in izzy’s chest cavity, battling with the fastly fading adrenaline. “okay, okay,” and she extends an opposite hand to cup odessa’s face just as she’s holding izzy’s. and, right, they should go, they can’t do that again - izzy really can’t do this all of the time anymore, facing death with her fists up - so she does what she hand to help odessa up, wrapping a solid arm around her middle though she feels stricken by the waves, weary. “yeah i - i saw pretty much everyone, i think. in the cave, or heading there with inventory, everyone getting away from the tide. there wasn’t anybody else in the ocean, i didn’t see anybody else,” she rambles, all but dragging herself and odessa further and further from danger. “oh my god, i - ” but of course she can’t say anything else, winded and frightened and so, so close to - to losing odessa. jesus fuck. “no more sleeping on the beach,” she says shakily, keeping her watery eyes ahead. they’re constantly making up new rules for survival here, it seems - this perpetual, arduous battle against nature. god. “you’re sure you’re okay?” izzy repeats even as they move, turning her worried eyes onto odessa and trying to get a better look at her, trying to comb her body for injuries, for signs that there’s still water in her lungs, or something. “jesus, dess,” she exhales in a puff, dizzy as the adrenaline dies down. “i don’t - i don’t even - ” everything fizzles inside of her. what do you even say?
Odessa came to with an incessant pressure on her chest. She jerked up, feeling something gurgling at her throat. Quickly, she turned to her side and let it all out, coughing as seawater left her in sputters. “Oh–” Cough. “Oh my god–” She no longer felt anything taking space in her throat but now it felt raw. With a heavy and tired sigh, she collapsed backwards again, laying on the wet sand as her chest heaved up and down and she shut her eyes. It took her a moment. To remember. Where she was. What was happening. She was asleep. Then she wasn’t. Then there was water. Lots of water. A tide higher than she ever experienced. Then a wave. Then a pull. Then there was Izzy. Izzy.
“Iz– Izzy?” Her hand moved at her side, feeling around for the other girl. She didn’t stop till her hand met Izzy’s and held onto it. She wanted to sit up, to pull her in, to hold her and relish in the fact that holy shit, that was such a close call and thank you for doing what you did. But her soaked clothes felt heavier than usual on her body. Like they were half ton weights keeping her down as opposed to cotton, denim and polyester. So instead, she did what she could while she caught her breath, and that was squeeze Izzy’s hand and breathe. In and out, and in and out. Until she felt energy, slow and steady, come back to her in small pieces. “Are you– you okay?”
-
when odessa comes to, it’s like - it’s like this fucking miracle, okay, because she’s okay, she’s alive, she could have died but she didn’t, and, oh, god, what if she had? what if she’d died and their last exchange was one of anger? what if that was all izzy had left of her, that fight on the fucking beach? she wouldn’t have made it, couldn’t have processed it, and now she’s just dizzy, exhausted, staring at odessa with big eyes, a miracle, brushing strands of wet hair back from odessa’s face, “oh, god, i thought - ” and her voice, lachrymal, just kind of falls away, broken. “i thought - oh, god, odessa, oh god.” gripping odessa’s hand like a lifeline, crying over her a little, battered, relieved she’s alive, what the fuck. as always: what the fuck. and when odessa asks if she’s okay, izzy gives a broken little laugh, because - what? “am i okay?” she repeats, incredulous. “oh my god, odessa. you almost - you - ” but izzy can’t even say it, suffocates on a swallow and tries again. “are you okay? i mean, are you - you almost - god. holy shit, odessa, i don’t even - i - jesus. jesus. odessa.”
“Izzy!” Odessa sputtered out the name, seawater smacking into her mouth as the waves pulled at her. Her arms were stretched out, legs kicking. She’s fighting to give herself every chance of getting out of this situation but Mother Nature was one stubborn bitch. The only thing doing anything to remotely settle the hammering of her heart in her chest was the sight of Izzy – swimming, propelling herself toward her. Odessa’s fingers reached for her, desperate to brush against Izzy’s own. She was trying hard to fight against the tug of the sea but she was only a girl. The painful realization of her helplessness knocked her out more than any rush of water could. Things blur from there. A haze of desperate hands and the sting of ocean water in her eyes. Seawater entering her throat. One moment, Odessa is the throes of being dragged into the sea, the next – the next? Is she being hauled out? God, she hoped. All she knew was that she was tired. Tired, tired, tired and thinking of Izzy.
-
it’s literally a fucking battle, but they do eventually make it to shore - not before izzy’s ingested about a pint of seawater the acrid taste spreading across her tongue and traveling down her throat, not before her inhaler is whipped from the pocket of her shirt by a brutal wave, not before odessa is all but unconscious, but they do make it to the soaked sand of the beach, half-drowned and battered. of course, it’s not like they’re out of the woods, izzy quickly realizes as she lifts izzy down to the land, as far out from the ocean as she can manage to get her; they’re just not that lucky, because odessa, she isn’t conscious, she’s not really breathing, it seems, or she is, but maybe not enough, and izzy - she’s panicking, because she can’t lose odessa, not after this, after everything, because - because - she can’t, and izzy’s never been good at saving the people she loves, but she is CPR certified, so she drops to the ground and starts doing mouth-to-mouth, trying to remember everything her tenth grade health teacher taught her, trying to stay calm, but she isn’t calm, she’s just doing everything she needs to do like she needs to do it, because she can’t lose somebody, she can’t lose odessa, so she shoves on her chest and breathes into her mouth and she thinks please, please, please, no, please.
where: the beach
when: riptide time babes!
who: the newly resurrected @odessabailey
izzy wakes to noise with a pounding in the cavern of her skull, and she doesn’t realize anything’s wrong until she wrestles into wakefulness despite the hangover. still in the cave, izzy’s not in any immediate danger, but it takes a minute before it occurs to her that anyone else might be - it’s the commotion that rouses her, prompting her to prop herself up on her elbows at look out at the - oh, oh, the tide, rising, rising, jesus, what the fuck? what a wakeup call, and she thinks odessa first, of course she does, because she can see at least some of the others, plenty of people in the cave or heading towards it with their inventory in hand, effectively unharmed, but not odessa, and izzy thinks - she thinks of their stupid fight last night, she thinks of everything dumb that she said, of how brutal the whole ordeal was, and she’s thinking this all as she’s staggering up and running out of the cave and onto the beach, searching - and she cares about everyone else, too, of course she does, and she’s doing a headcount as she passes them like an idiot, running headfirst towards the water, but it’s a lie to act like she’s not concerned about odessa first and foremost, because she is, and the tide is no fucking joke, and what if - what if -
and then izzy sees odessa, tugged out by the tide, and she’s for all intents and purposes being swallowed up by the tide like that, and then izzy doesn’t really think anything at all except that of course she’s got to do something, and it’s a fear - well, it’s a fear she’s felt before, of course it is. izzy knows what it’s like to be afraid of losing someone, she’s lived with that fear, it’s so familiar that it makes something in her sternum ache, even as she’s heading out against the brutal tide, even as she’s remembering saying if we don’t talk about it now, i’m scared we never will, because she’d thought (as she often thinks): what if something terrible happens. well, here’s something terrible, so she fights the tide like only the fourth best swimmer on the Warrenton High School Women’s Swim Team can, heading to odessa, because this - izzy can’t let this happen. it’s literally not even a fucking option, so there’s only one thing on her mind as the ocean all but throttles her and sea water pools into her mouth, a wall of force against her, odessa, odessa, odessa, or maybe she’s saying it out loud: “odessa!” and she’s already aching by the time she reaches her, but she does, she reaches her, “odessa,” and it’s all just adrenaline and torrid energy, fighting the waves as they try to suck them back in, izzy wrapping odessa’s arms around her shoulders and hauling her out, what the fuck, what the fuck?
— i get nervous every time somebody looks me in the eyes, so i sat down on the sidewalk and i started to cry.
the phone camera’s pointed towards the ceiling, and from somewhere to the left, izzy’s voice can be heard over the buzz of conversation of the high school cafeteria. “can you just hold this for me really quick, please? i need to film this, like - this thing for that place i’m going next week. yeah, it’s already recording.” the phone is passed from hand to hand, and then the ceiling falls away as the angle shifts, revealing izzy in front of the bustle of kids moving back and forth between lunch tables. she’s got a brown paper bag in front of her (unopened), and she’s playing with her nails; she looks nervous.
“um. hi. so, my name is izzy connelly - isobel, izzy - ” she starts, stumbling through the sentence a little. behind the camera, a teenager girl tries to stifle a chuckle. “don’t laugh,” izzy pleads, looking defeated. she hates stuff like this, and even if you didn’t know it about her, you can tell by now. she clears her throat, tries again. “my name’s izzy connelly, and i’m eighteen, and i’m from warrenton, oregon - not much going on here, it’s a little boring,” she admits.
“no fucking kidding,” the same voice from behind the camera agrees.
izzy sighs. “do you just wanna do this for me, or?”
“it’d be done a lot faster... i’m just trying to loosen you up a little. iz, just go, you’re gonna be great. i’ll stop interrupting. i promise.”
izzy frowns, skeptical, then continues from where she left off. “if i had to pick three words to describe myself, they’d be...” her eyes wander up to her friend behind the camera again, as though she’s searching for an answer.
helpful, she might say, if that were true anymore, but it isn’t.
“i’m polite,” she offers, “i try to be polite. and, um, i’m - pretty friendly, i guess, like - not outgoing, exactly, but i’m easy to get along with. and i’m - nervous. i’m honestly pretty nervous. so that’s three things,” izzy finishes on a sigh. she looks up to her friend as she reaches for her phone, the camera tilting to the ceiling once more. “was that bad? everyone’s gonna think i’m so lame,” she complains.
“it’s fine, izzy, you make a good first impression. and if they thing you’re lame, just tell them about how you got sent to the hospital ‘cause you had a bad reaction to illegal street drugs last week. then they’ll think you’re cool.”
“here’s hoping,” izzy says as she turns off the recording, an eye roll evident in her voice.
Tell me about your sleeping habits over the past month. Have you noticed any changes? Difficulty sleeping? Restlessness? What was it like before you were on the island?
“i guess i’ve always, like, been kind of a heavy sleeper,” izzy offered. at home, but at the hospital, too. she could block out the beeping and the discomfort that came from being in a bed that wasn’t her own. it was a good skill to have. “even on the island. mostly, i guess.” when odessa had died, she’d stayed awake for as long as she could, then passed out, and when she woke, odessa was gone. the next time she slept after that, she’d woken up here. “i haven’t really been sleeping well since i got here,” she added sheepishly. she’d barely been sleeping at all. how could she, now?
How would you describe your appetite over the past 5 weeks? Have your eating habits changed in any way? What was it like before you were on the island?
“there wasn’t, like, a lot to eat, where we were. so we just got what we could, i guess. but, um, family dinners, they’re really important to my mom. and good nutrition, and stuff.” it was a very granola, no junk food kind of house - the softball team avoided strategically avoided it as an after practice hangout. still, she’d give anything to sit around the table with her parents again.
Prior to the island, could you tell me about any times over the past few months that you’ve been bothered by low feelings, stress, or sadness?
“my sister just died,” izzy said, self-explanatory and glanced around the room. god, she was tired - she didn’t want to tell some stranger about this. she didn’t want to think about this. it was so much work to be so sad all of the time. she wasn’t sure she could keep doing it. yes, she’d had low feelings, stress, sadness. all of the above. did she have to go through it? “um, i don’t - wait, like - what does that have to do with our plane getting lost?” she added suddenly, turning back to face them. sad thoughts couldn’t crash a plane. ( probably ).
How frequently have you had little pleasure or interest in the activities you usually enjoy? Would you tell me more?
“um,” she said, and bit her lip. it felt like a weirdly clinical question, a little pointless, something they might ask her in a doctor’s office. how frequently? like, in numbers? “it was hard to do anything after my sister died, but i tried. i just wanted to feel better.” so she’d gone to a party and done drugs and wound up in the hospital, but whatever. that wasn’t an activity she normally enjoyed. she saw no reason to elaborate.
How frequently have you been bothered by not being able to stop worrying?
“pretty much my whole life?” she sighed. there was always something to worry about. that was basically rule number one of being a connelly.
Tell me about how confident you have been feeling in your capabilities recently.
“not... very?” she felt like she could be such a burden sometimes in the context of being on a deserted island. or, any context, really. she was never any good at what she was meant to be doing, was she? she never saved anyone. so, what was she even good for?
Let’s talk about how often you have felt satisfied with yourself over the past few months.
“do we really need to do that? i just, like - i feel like somebody said i could talk to my mom soon, right? and see the others, and stuff? and, like, i’m not trying to be rude, like, i’m sure you have your reasons for this and stuff, but i just, like - maybe if you let me talk to my mom or something, you know?” had she felt satisfied with herself? hardly. she’d hit plenty of home runs, she’d gotten plenty of decent grades, she’d kissed odessa. but did any of that matter, really? after everything? she just wanted to go home.
How often over the past few weeks have you felt the future was bleak?
“the past few weeks?” she repeated. they’d been stranded on an island for the past few weeks. they’d watched people die. they’d begun to starve. they weren’t crazy for feeling hopeless. that didn’t make them unstable. it was scary. she had been scared. “the entire time, except for, like, an hour, when the plane flew overhead.” she had been so stupid then, hadn’t she? she really thought she’d be okay.
Can you tell me about your hopes and dreams for the future? What feelings have you had recently about working toward those goals?
“i’m not sure,” she answered, shifting uncomfortably. this was only because she couldn’t tell them the truth: i think i’m broken beyond repair. i think this experience ruined me for good. and i want to be someone who thinks about the future, and i know that i have to be, for my parents, but all i don’t think i’ll ever recover. who could?
Describe how ‘supported’ you feel by others around you – your friends, family, or otherwise.
izzy raised her eyebrows. “i mean, like - right now? not... that supported. because i’m alone most of the time in that room. i don’t have anybody to talk to. it’s hard to feel supported when nobody will let me talk to my mom or my dad or the others. i mean, you’ve got me all by myself. nobody can support me if i’m on my own.” izzy, fundamentally, was used to relying on others. she didn’t do well with being on her own; she was so used to being half of a whole, the planet orbiting around others’ suns. being all alone like this was eating away at her, and still, she wondered if it might be good for her.
What is it different on the island? Did you feel more or less supported?
izzy thought of odessa, and of halima and erin on the day odessa died. she thought of alexa doing her makeup, and of playing MASH with clarke. “more,” she answered, pushing a little bit of hair from her face. “definitely more.”
Let’s discuss how you have been feeling about your relationships recently. Did you make any significant relationships on the island? How do you feel about them?
jesus christ. her last mid-interview asthma attack had been real, but she was thinking of faking one just to get out of this. her heart ached with grief and she tried to swallow it down. “i, um - i don’t really... i don’t want to talk about it. i don’t know how to talk about it. you weren’t, um - you weren’t there, so i don’t...” she couldn’t try to go into it. she didn’t want to start crying.
Tell me about any important activities or projects that you’ve been involved with recently. How much enjoyment do you get from these?
more questions that seemed a little irrelevant. “i... play sports. i have a few friends. i journal. i write poetry. i get... a normal amount of enjoyment, i guess? i don’t know if i understand, like, the metrics you’re using. i’m sorry.”
Were you particularly involved with activities on the island? Did you want to be?
"i... would have liked to be a bigger help than i was,” she admitted, guilt lacing into her tone. story of izzy’s life. she was an asthmatic recovering from a major surgery. she couldn’t do as much as she would have liked to. she’d always been so useless, hadn’t she? she couldn’t think of one thing she’d done right. not a single thing. it was this thought that made her eyes sting, and she blinked back the tears frantically.
How frequently have you been doing things that mean something to you or your life?
“doing them?” izzy asked, “or doing them right?” she bit her lip and wrapped her arms around her middle. she didn’t like talking to these people - she always left feeling worse. still, she figured she could at least answer the question properly. “sorry. i... always tried, i guess. but i know that’s not enough.” when had she ever been enough?
“Thank you for joining us again today. We know you have a lot of questions,” Agent Wilkes says once you’re seated. “We weren’t the most forthcoming regarding the details of your circumstance yesterday and we intend on clearing those up today. We just needed some time to get all of the details in order. I believe once you're aware of what we’ve found, you’ll understand why we’ve been so... reserved.” Agent Wilkes has his own folder and he opens that up and takes a look at the papers inside of it before speaking again.
prelude.
izzy didn’t sleep well that night. how could she? she wanted to believe the worst was over, but... well, when had that ever been true? she still had to be practical.
she ached with absence. she thought of the others. she thought of odessa. her sister. her parents. her dog. her missing clothes. she didn’t do so well with being alone. sometimes she felt like she disappeared completely if she had nobody to see her.
( so, the camera was an odd comfort. it freaked her out a little, but still - it made her feel less alone. maybe that wasn’t a good sign. she tried not to think about it too hard. )
the next day, they came to get her, and she was hopeful, only for a moment, that she might be going home. she should have known better. ( she knew they needed to know what happened, but she felt like this was a waste. she’d tell them whatever they wanted to know, but did she really have to stay here? she wanted to go home. who could blame her for that? )
“um,” she said, as soon as she was seated. “my parents, they - have you talked to them? can i see them soon? i mean, they know i’m okay, right? they don’t think - ” that she was dead. god. “i really want to see them.” and if they knew she was alive, they’d want to see her, too, right? izzy had already been here for a day. her parents, her mom? not the patient type. wasn’t it weird, to be kept here for so long?
she listened patiently as they tried to finally, finally give her some answers. and as the story unfolded: some stupid number mix-up, and an unexpected tragedy, and nobody really searching for them - she nodded in horror. oh, my god. things like that happened, izzy knew, terrible, insane, one in a million things. things like that happened to her, even, and had recently. she got it. but, god.
something terrible had happened. people were dead because of it. izzy willed herself not to cry, and thought, i want to go home.
interview.
how many of you were on the plane? what was it like inside?
“uh,” she blinked heavily, trying to remember. “more than twenty, i think. it was... nice, i guess? i’ve never been on a plane before, but it wasn’t, like, a regular plane, probably. it was smaller, kind of... fancy?”
do you recall if there was anything suspicious on the plane?
there had been all of these planes in the airport: if you see something, say something. izzy hadn’t been paying all that much attention. if there was something suspicious, she didn’t notice it, or didn’t remember it. “no, i don’t... think so? i don’t know, i’m sorry.”
did anyone look or act suspicious in the plane?
“um.” they were teenagers. they had hoods on and huge sunglasses. half of them were somewhere between hungover or looking like they were trying to dodge the paparazzi, but that didn’t crash a plane. “not, like - no? no.” they weren’t terrorists, or anything. jesus.
how long were you in the air before the plane started to malfunction?
izzy didn’t know. she’d been distracted - mostly by odessa. “i kind of lost track of time,” she admitted, feeling terrible unhelpful.
to the best of your ability, do you remember the moments before the plane crash?
“um, no, not, like, right before,” she admitted. not the actual crash, though she remembered the way the lights had started to flicker, and the way it bobbed around in the air, unsteady. after that, there was a blank spot in her mind - the last thing she remembered was the turbulence. the worry. “i’d never been on a plane before,” she answered quickly, though it’s a nonanswer. she gazed down at the table, swallowing down the anxiety that welled up in her throat. “i mean, the lights started to go, and, like, it was really - um, bumpy, like... but, i thought it was just turbulence,” she added, and this made her feel stupid. when the lights started to flicked, she’d gripped the arm rest of the plane, looked over at odessa with wide, frightened eyes, and she’d hoped it was normal. turbulence was supposed to be normal. it was just turbulence, and then nothing, and then she woke up in the water.
“when, um - when my sister died, my grandfather, he’d said something like - um, like how i’d had all of this heartache and tragedy, and that meant it was going to be over for a while. he said i was, like, protected. nothing bad would happen to me for a while, since i’d lost amelia. that was - um, that was about a month before. before i got on the plane, um - yeah, i, i just thought it was turbulence,” she explained, voice thick with emotion, with confusion. “my parents know i’m alive, right?”
what’s the first thing you remember after waking up?
“i was in the water,” she answered, pulling at her nails. “i’m, like - i’m a pretty strong swimmer. warrenton is right on the ocean. i have asthma, but, like, i actually am a good swimmer. i’m on the swim team. my coach says my technique is pretty good, so, like, i can swim. it was, um - really cold, but, you know, i looked around, and i saw the island - the beach, nearby. and i... swam.” what about the flight attendant? the pilot? had they survived the crash, then drowned? or had they died on impact?
did you have any significant injuries from the crash?
“not, like... no, not really.” she’d been sore from the swim and the falling; the pain in her scar from her kidney had been bad, pretty bad, but she’d ignored it, and eventually, it had wained, then gone away entirely. “i was...” she thought of jill, “lucky.” then she thought of everything, and she put a hand over her mouth, mimicking the action of choking back emotion, though really, she was trying not to laugh. lucky!
who was around you when you woke up?
the ocean. miles and miles of ocean. “it was just me,” she shrugged, biting her bottom lip. “i was by myself.”
how long did it take you to find the others from your flight? we were told there was a pilot and a flight attendant with you all on the flight. you didn’t manage to find them?
“not long, um - people were on the beach already, when i got there, i think? but i wasn’t, you know - i don’t know the exact time, but. not long, or anything,” she explained, then shifted as the questioning continued. you didn’t manage to find them. manage to? you? like it was her responsibility. like she should have found them, saved them, but didn’t. ( maybe she should have looked harder. why hadn’t she looked harder? ) “um, um, i - i don’t, i mean - listen, like, i was just a little - i didn’t have, like, a head count, i was in the water and, i mean, if i’d known to be looking for them, i would have, but there - there was a lot going on, and, i mean - you didn’t manage to find them, either. you barely even looked, right? that’s - you said, i mean - even if it’s a cargo plane, you said there would have been people, and i was just - we had just fallen out of a plane, i mean, no, i didn’t manage to find them, but i’m - we aren’t the ones with the equipment to find that sort of thing. so, i don’t - i mean, i would have looked harder, i mean - ” she should have looked harder. those people probably had lives and families, and these guys were right: she didn’t manage to find them.
what happened on your first day on the island?
more death, izzy thought. someone else who died, who she couldn’t help, who probably had a family. her chest tightened familiarly. guilt or just asthma. “um, i - i don’t, um, i don’t remember, really, i mean - can i go back to - ” her room? or whatever it was. like a hospital room, a permanent impermanent residence. “i think i need my inhaler. i think i’m having an asthma attack. i want my parents.”
“Hello,” the one in the suit greets. “Thank you for joining us. We just have a few questions for you.” The men introduce themselves. The one in the suit is Agent David Wilkes, FBI. A stoic and authoritative – though not unkind – professional from the looks of things. The man in the sweater is Dr. Parker Hessman. He doesn’t appear very threatening with his thick-rimmed glasses but he’s a trauma psychologist and it’s never good when one of those are around.
“We’ll start off easy,” Agent Wilkes begins. “Just some preliminary questions as we don’t want to overwhelm you. Let’s begin shall we?”
prelude.
it’s weird that when izzy wakes up, she’s calm. her first thought was that the room reminded her of a hospital room, if only for the sparseness, and for the uneasy feeling she got. rescued, she thought, and then she remembered the other stuff: odessa, mostly. she looked around the room, realized she was saved ( or something like that ), and realized just as quickly that odessa wasn’t ( but it had been a nice dream, hadn’t it? ).
her hand went to her collarbone, and the absence she felt turned to cold dread. she didn’t care about the strange, concrete room she was in, or the odd little rug, or the bathroom with no door. her eyes brushed over the camera as she searched for where her belongings might be, but that mattered very little. even the other stuff - her parents, the others - were second place to the locket - the only thing she had left of odessa.
( but maybe this - the frantic searching - is better, even, then the paralyzing fear. because she’s here now, and she can’t do anything about that, and she has no way of knowing what will happen next, but at least she can accept that. at least she can move. she just - she wants her fucking stuff, okay? )
she doesn’t even have more than a few seconds to look before someone is coming in. someone in scrubs and the lady she recognizes, and she’s already saying “um, i was - i was wearing something, i need it back, where is it? it’s mine. i need it back.”
she’s reassured, of course - she’ll get it all back. and she’s not stupid. she’s skeptical. but, look: she needs to believe it’s true. she needs to stop feeling like she’s on the verge of a breakdown. she wants to believe that the calming words are all true. that she’ll get her things, see the others, go home. and if they’re lying, well, why would they be? and if they are, what good will bitching do? so, she eats the soup, worry etched into her features, and she follows them to the interview room, trembling as she goes.
interview.
what is your name?
“izzy,” she says, tugging at a thread on her sweater - who dressed her? she was used to having her body exposed. she was used to her body not being hers. whatever, who cared? this was her life. “isobel eleanor connelly.” that was her.
how old are you?
“i turned eighteen on january 25.” ( it had been her first birthday without amelia, last month. )
where are you from?
“warrenton, oregon. 1295 south west cedar avenue.”
what’s your nationality?
“i’m american.”
do you go to school? what school do you attend?
“warrenton high school. i’m a senior. um, you probably saw that on my sweatshirt, actually. i’m on the swim team, actually, that’s my - my swim hoodie, varsity, and, uh - i need it back. i can’t lose it, it costs, like, 60 bucks to replace, you know? so, if you just make sure... i get everything back? all of my things?”
how do you know these girls? did you know them prior to the retreat?
“no, no, um - you said they were okay, though, right? and, um, the others - jill and, um - ” her voice broke a little. “odessa. you, you - um? did you...” find them? she began to feel sick again, anxious again, and she willed herself not to shut down, but. god, she felt like fucking crying.
what is the dawn of eve retreat?
“uh. girl power? or something? i don’t really know, um - i don’t know that much about it. it’s for teenagers, right? we were just headed to hawaii, like, for empowerment, i guess.” that didn’t happen - clearly. izzy had never felt so powerless.
how did you hear about the dawn of eve retreat?
“my mom, like... googled it, i guess. or maybe one of her friends mentioned it to her? she’s a substitute teacher, her crowd loves stuff like that, i guess, but i just... heard about it from her.”
what is your reason for attending the dawn of eve retreat?
she looked down at the table. it all felt very personal, and she wasn’t sure if she was willing to spill her life story to these two strangers, two people who she wasn’t sure would really understand anything she had to say. “um, female empowerment,” she said, brows furrowing, and gave a convincing little nod.
how long was the retreat supposed to be?
“the weekend, i guess. yeah, that sounds right. the weekend. just a weekend.”
Odessa chuckled a little. Of course Izzy would ask such a question. “Of course not. We were drunk. And being stupid.“ And I’m dead was left unsaid. She didn’t think Izzy needed to be reminded so constantly. “It’s all in the past now.” Meaning: she didn’t want Izzy to think about it anymore. “I get it,” Odessa said. She couldn’t imagine how Izzy must have felt, finding her that morning considering their last interaction. Goodbyes were hard. Even harder when you don’t know they were your last. She listened to Izzy, happy to be a place the blonde could rest her head considering the awful few days she’d had. Hearing an ‘oh’, Odessa turned her head and looked at Izzy, smiling when she saw the locket in the other girl’s hands. “Why don’t you keep it?” She said after a moment. It’s not like it’d be of much use to her now. “You’re the only one who knows how important it is to me anyway… Carry me around. Take me on all your adventures. If I can’t live out my dreams, I wanna be with you while you live out yours.” It hurt to realize she’d never have that the first day at Penn State. Never throw her cap in the air. Never visit all the places she wanted to go or achieve all of the things she wanted to. “Go to that softball camp, kiss that girl. Promise me you’ll do all of the things you said you wanted to do.”
-
izzy nodded, shifting a little. it was all in the past now, meaning there was nothing she could do - about anything. about odessa being dead. the bad was behind her, but so was everything. that was hard, too. “oh. thank you,” izzy said earnestly, clasping the necklace between her hands. it was nice to think that this was something she’d be okay with. as odessa spoke, and as she acknowledged her own death, and the end of her own dreams, it made izzy stop, pained, guilty - why her and not me? it was all so fucking unfair. “okay,” she said thickly, weakly, because following through with odessa’s request was all she could hope to do now, though none of it sounded as shiny and fun as it had months before. “i mean, if i can. i will if i can,” she amends, because all of that, the future? well, it’s looking a little fuzzy right now. “things have been really, um... confusing lately. weird, um - i don’t even know. bad. there was this boat - a little empty one, then another, bigger one, with these people on it, and everyone was yelling, and i just... i’m not sure i know what’s going to happen next.” actually, the truth was that izzy was scared to wake up. but there was no way she could say that in front of odessa, who didn’t actually have that privilege - it would be beyond insensitive. so, she just settled for that: uncertainty about how she’d move from one point to another.
Odessa giggled when Izzy chucked one of her bajillion throw pillows at her. She caught it just as it smacked against her body, hugging it for a moment before letting it fall back onto Izzy’s bed. “I know. But it is what it, right?” What happened had happened. Neither of them could change it now. Wishing for things to be different was like wishing for Jude to be calm and sensible. A total waste. In Odessa’s opinion, Izzy was better off using that brain power to try and solve world hunger or something. “Shocker: I wasn’t thinking,” Odessa revealed with a roll of her eyes. “Not clearly anyway.” Not her greatest moment. And unfortunately, it had been her last too. That was fucking embarrassing. But it’s not like Odessa had to care though, right? She was dead. Shame, embarrassment… hell, breathing. They weren’t concerns for her anymore. “Don’t be sorry,” Odessa reminded Izzy again, with just the beginnings of tiredness in her voice. She knew it wasn’t going to the last time she’d be saying it. Knowing Izzy, the blonde would churn out the word at least twenty more times. With a sigh, Odessa settled next to Izzy on the bed’s edge. “I know… and I miss you too obvi.” Duh. She hooked an arm around Izzy and rested her head on the blonde’s shoulder. “The whole thing was kinda shitty but that’s not how I remember us. And I hope that’s not how you remember us. We were more than our last fight.”
-
it is what it is. sure, okay, izzy agrees - but it’s easy to say that now, right? with odessa next to her so that it’s almost as if nothing ever happened, it’s easy for izzy to wave it all off as inevitable, but that’s not how she has felt. now, she’s strangely calm ( though only in comparison to how she feels when awake, so that’s saying very little ), not in tears, but - there’s still the looming sense that it’s going to be hard to bring all of that with her into consciousness. but, maybe it was better not to worry about that now. when odessa said she missed izzy, izzy grinned softly, and glanced over at her. “so, you’re not still mad at me?” she asked, joking a little, and then, sort of not. “i mean, it’s not. not the only way i remember us, at least, but - you know, it’s just... kind of hard, i guess. because it’s one of the things i remember.” it was hard not to see every awful thing when she closed her eyes, at least when she was awake. “and the past few days, things have been... crazy. and awful.” those were both understatements. she sighed softly and leaned against odessa, pressing one hand to her chest absently before her hand grazed the locket - odessa’s locket. “oh,” she said softly, holding it in her palm, “um, do you want this back?” this necklace i frisked your corpse for?
“ Yeah, exactly. We got this. ” Erin replied, matching Izzy’s nod with a confident nod of her own. She folded the instructions in half, conveniently hiding what seemed like an absurd amount of warnings for something as simple as hair dye as she laid it out on the counter in front of them. As Izzy sectioned off some of her hair, Erin reached for the plastic gloves she’d made sure to grab. Even if purple was a pretty colour, she didn’t love the idea of her hands getting stained with it. “ Mmhmm, ” She confirmed with a hum, wiggling her fingers in gloves so they fit a little better before she reached for the small plastic bowl and tube of hair dye. “ It’s gonna look so good, ” She assured with ease, offering smile with her words. Another small moment of setting up before Erin stepped closer, reaching for a lock of Izzy’s hair with one hand and holding loaded tinting brush in the other. She took a small breath in, looking into the mirror so her eyes could meet Izzy’s, excitement still written on her features. “ Okay, no turning back. You ready? ”
-
“you think so?” izzy asked eagerly, turning back to grin at erin. izzy had sort of always wanted to try dying her hair, though she’d been kind of nervous that she’d wind up deciding she didn’t like it after the fact, and then she’d either have to wait for her natural hair to grow out, or figure out how to dye it back without making it look funny. erin’s encouragement definitely boosted izzy’s confidence about the whole thing, though, and she trusted the other’s judgement. once they were both ready, izzy righted herself, meeting erin’s eyes in the mirror. “okay, yeah, i’m ready,” she said, straightening her shoulders. she was a little bit nervous, but sure, she was ready. “it’ll be fun to do something different, i think,” she offered. “i mean, i’ve basically had the same haircut for, like, four years. it cant hurt to try something new. i mean - probably,” she speculated with a little chuckle.
Izzy’s readiness nearly knocked Odessa over but she happily received the blonde in her arms regardless, even resting a hand behind the other girl’s head as she held the other close. “I know, Iz. I know.” Not a single part of Odessa blamed Izzy for what happened to her. It was upsetting that Izzy blamed herself at all for Odessa’s death but unfortunately it didn’t surprise Odessa either. Izzy shouldered a lot when it came to death, whether or not it was hers to carry. With a deep sigh, she gave Izzy a final squeeze before pulling away just enough to look at her. Because she wanted Izzy to see her when she said this, to look in her eyes and understand that she meant it. “But you don’t have to be sorry, okay?” She said, brushing Izzy’s hair behind her ear. “Because it wasn’t your fault. And if you say sorry again, I will literally smack you with every single one of those throw pillows you have on your bed. Like seriously, why do you have so many?” She asked with a half laugh.
-
“i like to be comfortable,” izzy explained with the beginnings of a smile, tossing a pillow at odessa. but at odessa’s more important words, izzy shifted guiltily, looking downward. it wasn’t your fault. wasn’t it? maybe not completely, but a little bit? she crossed her arms, then shrugged. “i just wish i’d been with you,” she explained, voice soft. she supposed she meant both instances: after she’d died, when her body was all that was left of her. but also when odessa, still alive, had decided to go for a swim: “god, that was so dumb. i mean, what were you thinking? drunk, swimming alone at night in the ocean. i mean - !” she exclaimed, a little angry all at once out of nowhere. ( but she knew what was going on in odessa’s head then, right, at least a little? she’d been mad at izzy. ) once the frustration had passed, she felt a little bad about her outburst, and sat down on her bed with a sigh ( bongo stirred at this movement, but didn’t wake ). “sorry,” she said after a beat, hugging her arms around her abdomen and letting her head tip towards the ceiling. “i just - this sucks. and i really miss you. and i wish we hadn’t fought before - you know.”
closed starter: @connellys
dream concept: dying hair is an intricate ritual
Bathroom door closed behind them, Erin pried open the small box of hair dye. Laying out each of the items inside on the counter and unfolding instructions with a small smile on her face. It was sort of an exciting thing, even if it wasn’t her own hair. And it was probably as close as she would get to dying her own hair. The whole idea of having to bleach chocolatey brown locks to see any colour had always been enough to scare her away from that form of self expression. But Izzy’s light hair? Now that was perfect for this, and she was simply glad to be a part of it. She looked up, instructions still in her hands and unable to keep that light excitement from her features as she looked over at her. “ Have you ever done this before? ” She asked.
-
outfit: click here
izzy leaned against the counter, tapping her fingers nervously against the porcelain of the sink. the idea to dye her hair purple had been spur of the moment, and she’d said it as a joke, mostly - like, hey, that would be fun, right? but then she’d actually decided to go through with it, and she was mostly excited, if a little concerned that it’d end up looking ridiculous. “um, no,” she answered honestly, “but, it’s just following the instructions, right? people do it all the time. between you and me, i’m sure we can figure it out, no problem at all,” she offered, nodding with an encouraging smile as if to build her own confidence. she made quick work of pulling some of her hair into a top knot to section it off from the rest of her hair. “alright, we have everything, right?” she asked, eyes scanning all of their supplies.
“Damn, you sure know how to give a girl a warm welcome.” Odessa gave a roll of her eyes but the smirk on her lips showed she was more amused than anything by Izzy’s reaction and choice of words. “Of course I am, dork.” Dead that is. Shame. There was so much more she wanted to do but alas life sucks and the beware of riptide signs at the beach are no joke. “I’m your subconscious,” she explained. “It’s the guilt or whatever. But it’s better than nothing, right? I think you really needed to see me. Heard you’ve been crying like, non-stop since you guys found me on the beach. Pretty depressing.” Odessa’s lips took the shape of a slanted line. She looked at Izzy for a moment, taking in how nice she looked in her striped shirt and blue hoodie. She looked clean. And safe. Odessa liked that. She tilted her head to the side and lifted a hand to tuck some of the blonde’s hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re not crying now. I’ll take you shocked over devastated any day.” She brushed her thumb delicately over Izzy’s cheek before letting her hand drop down to Izzy’s, taking a hold of the other girl’s pale fingers. “So… you’ve got me back. What do you wanna do?”
-
for a moment, izzy was hesitant to move, or, hell, even breathe too hard, for fear odessa would just up and disappear from in front of her; but, then, the other had touched her, right? so, it’s not like whatever this was was that fragile. “i don’t find this funny,” izzy huffed, feeling very much like she was being teased. by a dead person. is that better, or worse than regular teasing? i’m your subconscious. Disappointing, she thought but didn’t say. Of course, if this moving, speaking iteration of odessa really was in izzy’s head, she could read her mind, right? not that that was the point. the point, izzy supposed, was that even if it wasn’t real, even if izzy had just made odessa up in her head - welll. it was still nice to see her. “you don’t get to make fun of me for crying about your tragic death,” izzy defended herself, taking a tiny step back so she could better take in odessa all at once. yes, she thought: dream or not, it was still really fucking good to see her. but once the question set in, once izzy thought about it - what she wanted to do, with this unconscious interpretation of a second chance - she threw her arms around odessa’s shoulders, more or less barreling into her. she kind of felt like she could cry again, but she didn’t; she just held the other for a moment, tight, close, as she’d never thought she would again. “i’m really sorry, you know? i am so, so sorry.”
