Quinn stared out at the glittering horizon and breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with fresh, salty sea air. She felt free, careless, and in control. She tossed her gun over the cliff and watched as it bounced off the rocky cliff side and got lost in the sea. She sighed happily as she turned on her heel and walked back to the mansion.
She pushed the front door open and turned into the sitting room, right past the bloody body of Santana Lopez. She opened the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass. She filled the glass quickly before putting the bottle back in the cabinet.
Grabbing her book from where she left it on the side table, Quinn made her way to the front porch. She sat in one of the wooden chairs, listening to the soft crashing of waves in the distance. She opened her book to the last few pages she had to read and sighed happily.
Quinn spent a peaceful few minutes, finishing her book and sipping her drink.
When she finished reading, she placed her book to the side with a contented smile. Downing the last of her scotch she re-entered the house.
She walked into the dining room and grabbed the last sailor boy figurine. She gazed to it with a satisfied smile, brushing her finger over the cold, glass features.
Slipping the figurine into her pocket, she turned and walked up the stairs. She entered her bedroom and opened her closet, leaning down to pull a large shoe box from the back. She took of the lid carefully and placed it to the side.
Quinn pulled a long, thick rope from the box and placed it on the bed. She then pulled out a signed and sealed envelope. She placed the envelope on the desk of her room and turned back to place the box back in the closet.
Grabbing the rope, she pulled her desk chair to the center of the room. She stepped up, quickly tying the rope into a noose and then tying it skillfully around one of the beams stretching across the ceiling.
She stepped down from the chair and took one last look around her room. She closed her eyes and played out the scene in her head.
Sometime in the next week or two, the sailor who brought them to the island would begin to get suspicious as to why the guests hadn't called in for a ride back to the main land. He would get to the island and be scarred for life from finding such a murderous scene. He would then call the police.
The police would show up, investigate, and eventually enter Quinn's room. They would find her hanging, and, after a moment or two, they would discover the letter on the desk. They would then read through Quinn's carefully written confession, and declaration of success. Quinn didn't regret what she did at all. She wanted to take control of her life, and she wanted other's to feel the same pain God had forced her to live through.
Quinn would go down in history as a legend.
She opened her eyes, breathing deeply and pulled the sailor boy figurine from her pocket. She climbed up onto the chair again and wrapped the noose around her neck. She took one last deep breath, squeezing the glass figurine fondly, and let her eyes fall closed as she began counting.
3.
2.
1.
She kicked the chair out from under her, squeezing the figurine tightly as pain shot through her body. The pain subsided quickly as the air was forced out of her lungs. She didn't fight to get any air back in, instead sucumbing to her oncoming death.
She smirked one last time as she grew weaker and weaker. She blinked her eyes blearily before they fell closed as she swayed lightly back and forth.
Quinn's body grew limp.
Her hand loosened it's grip and the sailor boy fell from her hand.
One last clattering smash rang out through the house before the island was swallowed up by silence.
The waves still crashed. The sun still hung in the sky. The wind remained calm and quiet.
All life left the the island.
And then there were none.