[fancypost bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; borderwidth= 0px; font-family: bookman oldstyle; font-style: italics; font-size: 35px; letter-spacing: -3px; text-align: center;]( ELIZABETH DAVIS )[/fancypost]
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The tropical climate of the island hadn't changed, if not having gotten more wet with every passing day. Storms rolled off the sea everyday to rain and cry on the forest, giving the crisp scent that came with dew on evening grass, accompanied by the incessant buzzing of eager mosquitos. Pines were often dripping with water and cedars gave off a tantalizing scent of sap as someone would pass. And despite it technically being winter, such beach climates didn't often get snow as other land-locked areas.
Usually, Elizabeth might've loved the frequent storms and smells, the faint scent of a storm off the horizon, but lately, she couldn't have mustered up the emotion to really care. Her mental state had been declining the past week, estranged and cut off from most other feelings she might've had before. Increased solitude had led to reminders of everything; she continued to look back and see that no one she had loved was left standing beside her. Her path, her actions, each one of them had gotten them killed, sent off to be hung publicly. And she couldn't have stopped them, she couldn't have stopped the rope from cutting off their air, yet she felt that she could've done something, at least.
She drunk her problems away. Intoxicated, she didn't have to remember. Every day she had woken up, drank, drank, tried to balance it out with food and drank some more. She had become less sociable, reduced to going in the forest to try and be alone. Each day after she was greeted with a pounding headache and muddled memory, but she didn't care how bad it was for her. As long as she didn't have to remember their dead faces, she was fine.
So there she was, on a boulder with whiskey, rum, and brandy bottles scattered around her, whilst she drank from a nearly empty bottle. She swished the murk liquid around daily, her world having begun to swirl but she didn't stop. She didn't feel like it; plus, who would stop her?
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