IND. NOAH FOSTER.   WRITTEN BY MEGAN.

you will always taste the blood on your tongue.   it is eternal  ;  an everlasting copper that seethes  &  blooms. you will always taste the water.  it fills up your lungs &  deprives all oxygen within you.  sometimes you still feel as if you are drowning in that troubled water.  both are choking you.  you will never be able to forget how it felt to be pulled down under.  it grabbed you.  it tried to sink you beneath to where only corpses remained.  you may have endured the least out of the surviving six, but you endured.  you survived.  this is what you tell yourself.   ( & final boys ! )

everyone wants to move forward.  the sole thing yearned for is the ability to move past the tragedy that overtook their lives  &  turned everything to ashes. the rebuilding process cannot be enacted with your mind obsessing  &  overthinking.  everyone thinks that you are crazy.  everyone dismisses you merely as an obsessed boy.  but there was an accomplice.  you know it to be true.  late at night while the town sleeps,  you remain awake.  dark circles lurking underneath eyes become a permanent attribute.  you are even more thin than you once were.  but you know that you are right.  (         you are begging for the truth but soon you will see too much.   )  you endured the least the first round.  no one can be spared twice.  

you saw too much.  your best friend with blood on her hands  &  lies smoothly running off her tongue, recorded. you want to believe her.  you tell yourself that you believe her. but sometimes she still unnerves you.  her teeth are sharp.  but so are yours.  you were not the one to send that video.  but you might as well have.