DEAD.

that was what he was supposed to be.

hell, how couldn’t he be？ he’d just gotten lured deep into the woods in the midst of winter by none other than his old friend, itrapped, whom he’d lost to a game of russian roulette prior to being forsaken. chance was naïve. he thought itrapped wouldn’t do anything to hurt him。。。 yet, here he was, lying prostrate on the cold, snowy ground, bleeding out as he fruitlessly clutched at his bleeding chest & stomach. one hand was outstretched. he had done so in an attempt to get itrapped to stop when the latter had begun to walk away from him, but itrapped hadn’t even stopped to listen to chance’s weak pleas. he’d just。。 left. left chance to die, no doubt.

it made chance want to cry.

。。。 he knew he couldn’t give up. he had to try calling out for help, even if he knew that no one from the shared survivor’s cabin was even in the remote vicinity at the moment. chance, in the back of his head, knew that he’d be dead by sunrise, only to be discovered deceased by builderman the next morning.

yet, chance was never the type to give up to easily on hope. this was what made him naïve, yet sometimes it just served as a method to straight-up kill chance one way or another.

he tried. weakly. his voice was cracking, wavering as if it were the torrents of a violent sea.

„ hel—-。。。 hello。。。 help。。。 please。。。 anyone。。。"