Brindlewood Bay Episode Thirteen

Over the years we all went mad in our own ways. Halsey went from disbelief to anger to anguish. Forrester remained at her side, ever vigilant, repeating "this too shall pass, this too shall pass". It went from soothing words to rote recitation to a grim, resigned mantra. This too shall pass. Ingham was excited; the masks were off, the base, cruel nature of the world revealed, the game bigger than she ever realized. I slipped deeper into my studies, into alienation from the world, into cold moonlit water and the thing beneath. Things were more stark and sober, especially now that we knew who also were in on our little secret. They held a meeting. I was more of a consultant than a participant. That's when I knew how bad it all had gotten before they even broached the topic of using it (that would be another meeting, one they didn't think I knew about). This was before the pandemic. We didn't know how things would get and they were already acknowledging the elephant in the room. I made my stance clear to them: that the juice was never worth the squeeze. We buried it deep enough, and all we needed to do was ensure the information was never found by anyone. They thanked me for my input and kept talking. Why would they listen to the woman who sequestered herself away from the world, after all. It's not like I was in touch with society anymore; I had my job, my quarters, my research, my neighbor. Too young, too naive. As if they could ever have figured their plans out without me. As if the bargains I made didn't give them the material necessary to put their plans into action when they inevitably did. As if I didn't expect they might take me off the board. As if I never found whispers in the silence, companionship in the dead of night, my own compromises and sacrifices. As if one of us wouldn't have a conscience, even if it meant dying to do the right thing. More than they ever did. https://thecoffin.club