[center][color=green][h3]Imogen Reed[/h3][/color][/center]

It was too hot, even with her winter coat off. The sun beat down mercilessly on Imogen’s tender Irish skin; she could practically feel it crackling into burnt red pork rind. Of course, her getting heated in a metaphorical way didn’t help either. Between the confusion, stress, and fiery anger she felt like her brain was melting. All around, barring Frankie, most of the others seemed nonplussed. They offered one another encouragement, and in Victor’s case, condescension. For a moment Imogen gawped at him. Had she gone insane? Was her reaction really so strange? She wanted to find somewhere dark and alone, away from these tranquil lunatics and that damnable scorching sun. More than anything she wanted to wash her face, to scrub the heat and coarse sand and emotion from her features to render her as clean and presentable as always.

Unfortunately, this beach offered neither shade nor solitude, and the water did not look okay in the slightest. So Imogen moved to the next entry on the list of things that might make her feel better.

“Don’t you recite all that rubbish at me!” Imogen snapped at Victor. “Oh, it’s ‘sink or swim’ is it? How about ‘we’re all in this together’ or ‘where there’s a will there’s a way’ while you’re at it? Just sayin’ the things they say in movies when it all goes to shit isn’t gonna magically make everythin’ okay!” If she could see it properly, Imogen would have pointed out the island’s opposite shore on the other side of the trees at this point, reminding the others just how small this place really was. “Get ourselves out of this situation? Hah, come off it! We’re totally at the mercy of whatever stranded us here. You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about…”

At that point, Sofia flared up again like a bad rash, awakening with almost comical speed in total ignorance of the headwound she gave Daniel in the process. Perhaps an avid watcher of survival island shows, she straightaway began assigning people tasks, which at the moment meant sending most of the boys to find the weird girl who left earlier. For her part Imogen didn’t know who in their right mind would give this dumbass the time of day, considering what her dogged insistence on her social experiments had gotten them. She did not expect that Sofia’s pretension of leadership meant that the other girl would see Imogen’s breakdown as a problem to solve. In trying to solve it, Sofia immediately made one of the classical blunders: telling an angry person to calm down.

For a moment though, it actually seemed like it worked. With her eyes fixed on Sofia, Imogen inhaled deeply through her nose, filling her lungs to their maximum capacity. Then she let it out.

“AND WHAT PART OF ALL THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME CALM YOU FOCKIN’ EEJIT!?” she yelled with her eyes squeezed shut and her hands clenched into fists, quickly going red in the face. “What d’you mean survival? We’re stuck here! There’s nothin’ we can do! Might as well keel over and get it over with! Who the hell died and made you the boss anyway, huh? You’re the reason we’re in this mess to begin with! This whole bloody stupid Icebreaker shtick, read the damn room! Didja think we’d all just play nice and be friends? Maybe getcha some extra credit? You miserable-”

At that point, Maive’s bawling reached such a fever pitch that Imogen noticed it, and it stopped her train of thought in its tracks. She opened her eyes and whirled around to face the source, only to stagger and nearly fall down herself. All that yelling had made her lightheaded again, and in a flash the energy she’d put into being angry drained right out of her. In its place came a surge of guilt, propelled straight to her heart by the sight of Maive crying her eyes out. All of a sudden Imogen felt terrible. More terrible than before, anyway, which was saying something. Even if she did catalyze this bizarre turn of events, Maive almost certainly hadn’t meant to, and she’d been confronted with the exact same nightmare scenario as Imogen, only without the wherewithal to take it out on anyone else. Plus, now that Imogen had made someone cry, she probably looked like a massive jerk. If she didn’t already. Despite all her pent-up anger, Imogen never wanted or intended to be a bully. The thought that she’d hurt someone else undeservedly never even showed up on her radar. What an absolute mess.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, taking an unsteady step away from Maive like she’d just dropped and shattered some fine china. “I didn’t…didn’t mean to…” Her leg wobbled out from beneath her and she sank into a sitting position, her head swimming. “Damn it,” she gasped, holding her head. “Why me…?”