Katelyn Graves was going to die.
She couldn't breathe. Her throat had shut itself off from the outside world, refusing to take even a moment's more oxygen. If she didn't take a breath, if she didn't inhale any of this place's rotten air, then this wouldn't be real. She would pass out, then she would wake up at home, and none of this would be happening to her.
Yet the cold of winter's chill bit into her hands and knees as she sat doubled over on the floor of the trapping camp's cabin, denying her the safety of fantasy. The pain in her palms told her without a shadow of a doubt that this was real, and that she had nowhere left to run and nowhere safe to hide.
Eventually, her throat gave in, and when she sucked in a lungful of bitter, frigid air, her choking turned to hyperventilating. Rapid breaths in and out over and over, with no end in sight. Tears streamed down her face, pitter-pattering onto the gnarled boards below, only to turn to frost as soon as it left the warmth of her skin. A portent of her inexorable fate, the sad capstone to a life filled with nothing but rotten luck.
She hadn't wanted to go on this trip, but everyone had assured her that it would be alright. They weren't going to get kidnapped. It was a winter trip, they only took kids in the summer. Even if it happened, the chances were too low, so unrealistic. They would just have fun, and for once she could finally relax, and stop worrying so much about everything. Yet they were wrong, and she had awoken, screaming, thrust into her worst nightmare. White-hot indignant rage churned and frothed within her belly, threatening to burst out at any moment.
As if all that by itself weren't enough, the monsters that organized this still weren't done tormenting her. They had one final slap in the face, the cruelest possible insult to the sharpest, ugliest possible injury.
She was here, with him.
"I-I s-said," she forced out between tears and gasps, "go away, Robin!"
It's Lights Out, And Away They Go!
Morning Day 1 (Open!)
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
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This was such motherfucking horseshit.
In any given situation, at the start of any activity, Robin’s very first port of call was to work out the risk versus reward factor. It just came innately to him, as simple as breathing; when you needed to make snap decisions while racing at 80mph in a vehicle made mostly out of pipes and an engine, that sorta instinct followed after you when you left the track. He weighed up whatever options were put in front of him, and if any of them were liable to hurt him or the people around him, then he’d strike it off the table, no second chances.
Take the trip to the ski resort, for a start. Obviously there were plenty of risks involved with skiing and snowboarding and all the rest of those winter activities, but the same could be said for stepping into a kart, or getting behind the wheel of what was essentially a jet you really didn’t wanna get off the ground. So long as you listened to everything the instructors told you, and followed their word to the goddamn letter, odds were you’d make it down the slopes unscathed. Simple.
Step back a bit, and look at the entire trip itself. Robin wasn’t stupid, he was painfully aware of the ‘Survival of the Fittest’ massacres; you had to have been living somewhere as backwards and in the ass-end of nowhere as this cabin to have missed out on it. He was pretty sure he remembered, back when he was a kid, a serious push to stop all school trips from happening again until the operation was shut down. Sound in theory, yeah, but the thing was, there were thousands upon thousands of high schools in the USA, each one sending out coaches full of kids per year. Only one school out of that vast amount ever got picked, and there was always a gap of several years between each attempt. You could completely avoid the whole bullshit by staying home, but honestly, you were probably just as liable to die by your coffee machine blowing up in your face. That was how small the chances were. Put simply; you had to be insanely, incomprehensibly unlucky for your class to be the ones kidnapped.
Well. That was what he’d always thought until this moment. And look where he was now.
“Jesus, Kitty, for fuck’s-”
The ancient floorboards creaked underneath his feet as he shifted his position, looking down on Kitty, biting his lip to stop himself from finishing his sentence and thankful that his mask was muffling his speech anyway. Instinct told him to step forwards and reach out a hand to help her up. Logic yelled at him to do nothing of the goddamn sort yet. Cat metaphors came easily, too easily, when Kitty was involved; right now, she was a stray, with all the dangers that came with it.
“Come on, quit that.” Robin continued, tugging his mask down, letting Kitty hear him, loud and clear. “I’m not gonna fucking let you stay here alone in this mouldy-ass cabin, that’s insane.”
If you were incomprehensibly unlucky to be abducted for this goddamn death game, how cursed did you have to be to wake up next to the person who hated your guts the most?
In any given situation, at the start of any activity, Robin’s very first port of call was to work out the risk versus reward factor. It just came innately to him, as simple as breathing; when you needed to make snap decisions while racing at 80mph in a vehicle made mostly out of pipes and an engine, that sorta instinct followed after you when you left the track. He weighed up whatever options were put in front of him, and if any of them were liable to hurt him or the people around him, then he’d strike it off the table, no second chances.
Take the trip to the ski resort, for a start. Obviously there were plenty of risks involved with skiing and snowboarding and all the rest of those winter activities, but the same could be said for stepping into a kart, or getting behind the wheel of what was essentially a jet you really didn’t wanna get off the ground. So long as you listened to everything the instructors told you, and followed their word to the goddamn letter, odds were you’d make it down the slopes unscathed. Simple.
Step back a bit, and look at the entire trip itself. Robin wasn’t stupid, he was painfully aware of the ‘Survival of the Fittest’ massacres; you had to have been living somewhere as backwards and in the ass-end of nowhere as this cabin to have missed out on it. He was pretty sure he remembered, back when he was a kid, a serious push to stop all school trips from happening again until the operation was shut down. Sound in theory, yeah, but the thing was, there were thousands upon thousands of high schools in the USA, each one sending out coaches full of kids per year. Only one school out of that vast amount ever got picked, and there was always a gap of several years between each attempt. You could completely avoid the whole bullshit by staying home, but honestly, you were probably just as liable to die by your coffee machine blowing up in your face. That was how small the chances were. Put simply; you had to be insanely, incomprehensibly unlucky for your class to be the ones kidnapped.
Well. That was what he’d always thought until this moment. And look where he was now.
“Jesus, Kitty, for fuck’s-”
The ancient floorboards creaked underneath his feet as he shifted his position, looking down on Kitty, biting his lip to stop himself from finishing his sentence and thankful that his mask was muffling his speech anyway. Instinct told him to step forwards and reach out a hand to help her up. Logic yelled at him to do nothing of the goddamn sort yet. Cat metaphors came easily, too easily, when Kitty was involved; right now, she was a stray, with all the dangers that came with it.
“Come on, quit that.” Robin continued, tugging his mask down, letting Kitty hear him, loud and clear. “I’m not gonna fucking let you stay here alone in this mouldy-ass cabin, that’s insane.”
If you were incomprehensibly unlucky to be abducted for this goddamn death game, how cursed did you have to be to wake up next to the person who hated your guts the most?
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Katelyn’s face felt hot, despite the chill in the air. Why wasn’t he just leaving her alone? He had no trouble ignoring her in the past, so why couldn’t he do it now?
With trembling arms, Katelyn forced herself up partway, turning herself to face Robin for the first time since she had woken up. Her eyes met his, and she was reminded of the days when looking into those eyes made her feel warm, fuzzy, and loved. Now all they did was make her sick.
“I’d r-rather be alone th-than around you!” She shouted. “You n-never cared about me. You acted l-like you didn’t even know me!”
She blinked, and hot, fresh tears ran down her cheeks, no doubt leaving mascara-black trails behind. His treatment of her had been infuriating. In private, he was sweet and loving, telling her how much she meant to him and how much he loved her. Then, when they were out in public, he was distant, barely paying her any mind, denying to others that they were even dating. The difference was like night and day, and it had torn her up inside.
“Do you e-even understand how much what you d-did hurt?” She choked. “You made me f-feel worse than anyone, e-even Ash!”
Through blurry eyes, she glanced at the camping heater, the poor excuse for a weapon that she had been assigned. It was so much worse than the knife that Robin had been given, but in a way she supposed what he got was fitting enough for him. After all, the new knife matched the one that he had left in her back.
Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the camping heater, using it as leverage to hoist herself up the rest of the way off the floor, letting her face Robin properly.
“I don’t want to be around you,” she sniffled. “So go away!”
With trembling arms, Katelyn forced herself up partway, turning herself to face Robin for the first time since she had woken up. Her eyes met his, and she was reminded of the days when looking into those eyes made her feel warm, fuzzy, and loved. Now all they did was make her sick.
“I’d r-rather be alone th-than around you!” She shouted. “You n-never cared about me. You acted l-like you didn’t even know me!”
She blinked, and hot, fresh tears ran down her cheeks, no doubt leaving mascara-black trails behind. His treatment of her had been infuriating. In private, he was sweet and loving, telling her how much she meant to him and how much he loved her. Then, when they were out in public, he was distant, barely paying her any mind, denying to others that they were even dating. The difference was like night and day, and it had torn her up inside.
“Do you e-even understand how much what you d-did hurt?” She choked. “You made me f-feel worse than anyone, e-even Ash!”
Through blurry eyes, she glanced at the camping heater, the poor excuse for a weapon that she had been assigned. It was so much worse than the knife that Robin had been given, but in a way she supposed what he got was fitting enough for him. After all, the new knife matched the one that he had left in her back.
Reaching out, she grabbed hold of the camping heater, using it as leverage to hoist herself up the rest of the way off the floor, letting her face Robin properly.
“I don’t want to be around you,” she sniffled. “So go away!”
God, she looked like absolute shit.
He wasn’t just talking about the unpleasant cocktail of mascara and tears running down her cheeks, her puffy red eyes, the fact that she was shaking like she’d just been let in from the pouring rain. It was a bad look, no doubt about that, but, well, he’d seen it before. Been the reason for it before. He hated seeing her face like that, felt like he was being punched in the gut all over again, but at least it was familiar, in its own loathsome, sickening way.
She just looked so fucking done for already, that was what really got to him. Collapsed on the floor like that, tiny splinters in her palms and dust on her knees, barely able to even goddamn stand without the help of that stupid, bulky heater - Christ, that was what they’d given her to defend herself with, wasn’t it? Jesus fuck. Kitty’s already tiny frame looked absolutely miniscule as she got, just about, to her feet. Robin just about managed to stifle his instincts to rush over and steady her; she would barely leave a mark if she did lash out, but he didn’t wanna spook her any more than she already was.
“No,” he said, firmly, shaking his head as if she wouldn’t understand the word. "I’m not going anywhere.”
She had every right to loathe him, he wasn’t gonna pretend for a second as though she had been anything other than the innocent party in their ill-fated disasterclass of a so-called relationship. He could say as many affirmations as he liked, as many words of support, of encouragement, of love, as many truths directly from his heart like he’d never known before or since, none of that meant a damn if he got cold feet the second someone looked funny at him for simply standing near her. He might as well have called her a freak to her goddamn face, the way he’d behaved in public.
So yeah, her disgust was justified. Yeah, she’d probably rather have anyone in the goddamn universe standing in front of her right now. But come on. Just look at her. She could barely even stand under her own power, let alone walk. Her weapon, if you were generous enough to call it that, was basically a metal box that probably weighed as much as she did. She’d been awake for about ten minutes and she was already in floods of tears. It was cold. It was quiet. She’d been dumped in an old cabin in the middle of the woods. No fucking way was he going to abandon her here.
“I know, I know, I know I fucked things up for you, for us, but I’m not just gonna walk away when everything’s so supremely gone to shit, like, come on, Kitty! If I just walk away, then what? It’s goddamn freezing out here, and I don’t even know where the hell here is, there could be anything outside, I don’t want you tripping and breaking your neck, or running into something and getting hurt, or, fuck, running into someone, some opportunistic cunt who tries to attack you!”
Robin realised his foot was tapping, fast and heavy, against the floorboards, and he took a deep, long breath in through his nose.
“If I didn’t give a shit- if I really didn’t care about you, why the hell would I be trying so hard to help you?”
He wasn’t just talking about the unpleasant cocktail of mascara and tears running down her cheeks, her puffy red eyes, the fact that she was shaking like she’d just been let in from the pouring rain. It was a bad look, no doubt about that, but, well, he’d seen it before. Been the reason for it before. He hated seeing her face like that, felt like he was being punched in the gut all over again, but at least it was familiar, in its own loathsome, sickening way.
She just looked so fucking done for already, that was what really got to him. Collapsed on the floor like that, tiny splinters in her palms and dust on her knees, barely able to even goddamn stand without the help of that stupid, bulky heater - Christ, that was what they’d given her to defend herself with, wasn’t it? Jesus fuck. Kitty’s already tiny frame looked absolutely miniscule as she got, just about, to her feet. Robin just about managed to stifle his instincts to rush over and steady her; she would barely leave a mark if she did lash out, but he didn’t wanna spook her any more than she already was.
“No,” he said, firmly, shaking his head as if she wouldn’t understand the word. "I’m not going anywhere.”
She had every right to loathe him, he wasn’t gonna pretend for a second as though she had been anything other than the innocent party in their ill-fated disasterclass of a so-called relationship. He could say as many affirmations as he liked, as many words of support, of encouragement, of love, as many truths directly from his heart like he’d never known before or since, none of that meant a damn if he got cold feet the second someone looked funny at him for simply standing near her. He might as well have called her a freak to her goddamn face, the way he’d behaved in public.
So yeah, her disgust was justified. Yeah, she’d probably rather have anyone in the goddamn universe standing in front of her right now. But come on. Just look at her. She could barely even stand under her own power, let alone walk. Her weapon, if you were generous enough to call it that, was basically a metal box that probably weighed as much as she did. She’d been awake for about ten minutes and she was already in floods of tears. It was cold. It was quiet. She’d been dumped in an old cabin in the middle of the woods. No fucking way was he going to abandon her here.
“I know, I know, I know I fucked things up for you, for us, but I’m not just gonna walk away when everything’s so supremely gone to shit, like, come on, Kitty! If I just walk away, then what? It’s goddamn freezing out here, and I don’t even know where the hell here is, there could be anything outside, I don’t want you tripping and breaking your neck, or running into something and getting hurt, or, fuck, running into someone, some opportunistic cunt who tries to attack you!”
Robin realised his foot was tapping, fast and heavy, against the floorboards, and he took a deep, long breath in through his nose.
“If I didn’t give a shit- if I really didn’t care about you, why the hell would I be trying so hard to help you?”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
"Don't act like you s-suddenly care about me now!"
Katelyn's face went red, hot with indignation. All of her previously unfocused rage was now pointed in one direction.
"You haven't changed," she spat. "You're a l-liar. You only ever c-cared about yourself."
So what if he really wanted to help? To hell with him! Her life was only ever made worse for him being in it. Did he really think that would be different now that they were here in the frozen wastes, waiting to die? She wasn't going to spend her last days with someone who would use her as a meat shield the moment it was convenient.
Robin wasn't going to leave on his own, though. That much he had made perfectly clear. Leaving herself wouldn't help, because he would just follow her. That left only one other option.
She crouched, grasping the heater with both hands, and hefted it over her head. Her legs wobbled as she lifted it, still woozy from the gas.
"All you do is make me s-sad," she mewled, voice quivering.
She squeezed the heater. Her claws were out, and she was poised to strike. He had one last chance to back away.
"Leave!"
Katelyn's face went red, hot with indignation. All of her previously unfocused rage was now pointed in one direction.
"You haven't changed," she spat. "You're a l-liar. You only ever c-cared about yourself."
So what if he really wanted to help? To hell with him! Her life was only ever made worse for him being in it. Did he really think that would be different now that they were here in the frozen wastes, waiting to die? She wasn't going to spend her last days with someone who would use her as a meat shield the moment it was convenient.
Robin wasn't going to leave on his own, though. That much he had made perfectly clear. Leaving herself wouldn't help, because he would just follow her. That left only one other option.
She crouched, grasping the heater with both hands, and hefted it over her head. Her legs wobbled as she lifted it, still woozy from the gas.
"All you do is make me s-sad," she mewled, voice quivering.
She squeezed the heater. Her claws were out, and she was poised to strike. He had one last chance to back away.
"Leave!"
God fucking damnit. For fuck’s sake. She was really pulling this shit now, here, of all places? Robin had been trying so goddamn hard to stop himself from saying it, or even of thinking it, but this right here was the final fucking straw.
“Stop being so fucking stupid, are you fucking serious? You’re gonna drag up all the ways you deserved better than the shit I gave you here, stuck in this forest in the ass-end of nowhere, like, come on! I know I fucked up, Kitty!”
Christ, he was getting a fucking headache from this bullshit. Goddamn monkey’s paw situation, wasn’t it? For months and months he’d wanted to talk to her, to let her spill all the vitriol she’d been holding onto, to admit that he had been in the wrong and that he’d fucked up and to try and apologise, and get… fuck, he didn’t even know. A second chance (unlikely, but god he wished)? Closure, of any kind? Just something that wasn’t a horrible, echoing rift between them, filled with the persistent knowledge that he had pushed an already-broken girl to the edge. He’d never figured out what to say to her, never dared to risk trying to approach her again, and so he’d ended up just idly hoping that they’d be forced into a situation, a paired project or whatever, where they would have to talk to one another.
And all it took for that to happen was a terrorist attack and yet another school abduction. Lucky goddamn him!
“I dunno if you’ve fucking noticed yet - actually, no, I know you have, cause you’ve been pissing yourself and bawling your eyes out about it - but there’s way more important shit for you to be bitching about, like, oh, the motherfucking bomb collars-”
Robin tapped the side of his neck in time with each word, making a barely-audible ‘thump’ sound each time, voice rising to a vicious snarl.
“- we’ve got strapped to our fucking necks! You gonna act this way to anyone who hurt you back at school, everyone who ever made you ‘sad’? Cause sooner or fucking later, someone’s really gonna try and hurt you, and I don’t want you to be staring down the barrel of a goddamn gun all by yourself!”
He exhaled, breath hot and heavy, and that action was enough to slap himself round the face and tell himself to calm the fuck down. Kitty, ridiculous as she was being, already didn’t want anything to do with him; yelling at her sure as shit wouldn’t make her more inclined to join him. His hands were bunched into fists, his foot had started slamming on the floor again, his face was as bright red as his own goddamn jacket. This whole situation was balanced on the point of a pin; one wrong move and it would all be over but the crying.
He had barely flinched when Kitty had hoisted the heater up over her head. She was nothing but skin and bones, and her legs had already started buckling underneath her from the strain of just fucking holding it. He doubted she could throw the thing more than a foot in front of her; more likely, the weight would just send her crashing through the floorboards. Still though, the intent was clear. Feral cat. Be purposeful, but remain cautious. And if he could do anything, then it was that.
“Fucking…” Robin pinched the bridge of his nose as he breathed out once more. “Okay, look, I’m not dumb. I’m not expecting you to suddenly like me. I’m just… scared for you, okay? All this shit, it can eat you alive, I don’t wanna think about what might happen if you’re alone, I don’t want you getting hurt, I-”
He glanced down at the bag next to his feet, the stupid, oversized knife resting on top of it, glint of its curved blade catching his eye. He nudged it with his foot, slowly pushing it off of his belongings until it clattered to the floor, slipping just underneath a battered, weather-beaten wooden chair.
”-I’M not going to hurt you again, alright? I promise. Just let me help you, please. Just trust me, Kitty.”
He took a step forwards, floorboards creaking underneath his trainers.
“Please.”
“Stop being so fucking stupid, are you fucking serious? You’re gonna drag up all the ways you deserved better than the shit I gave you here, stuck in this forest in the ass-end of nowhere, like, come on! I know I fucked up, Kitty!”
Christ, he was getting a fucking headache from this bullshit. Goddamn monkey’s paw situation, wasn’t it? For months and months he’d wanted to talk to her, to let her spill all the vitriol she’d been holding onto, to admit that he had been in the wrong and that he’d fucked up and to try and apologise, and get… fuck, he didn’t even know. A second chance (unlikely, but god he wished)? Closure, of any kind? Just something that wasn’t a horrible, echoing rift between them, filled with the persistent knowledge that he had pushed an already-broken girl to the edge. He’d never figured out what to say to her, never dared to risk trying to approach her again, and so he’d ended up just idly hoping that they’d be forced into a situation, a paired project or whatever, where they would have to talk to one another.
And all it took for that to happen was a terrorist attack and yet another school abduction. Lucky goddamn him!
“I dunno if you’ve fucking noticed yet - actually, no, I know you have, cause you’ve been pissing yourself and bawling your eyes out about it - but there’s way more important shit for you to be bitching about, like, oh, the motherfucking bomb collars-”
Robin tapped the side of his neck in time with each word, making a barely-audible ‘thump’ sound each time, voice rising to a vicious snarl.
“- we’ve got strapped to our fucking necks! You gonna act this way to anyone who hurt you back at school, everyone who ever made you ‘sad’? Cause sooner or fucking later, someone’s really gonna try and hurt you, and I don’t want you to be staring down the barrel of a goddamn gun all by yourself!”
He exhaled, breath hot and heavy, and that action was enough to slap himself round the face and tell himself to calm the fuck down. Kitty, ridiculous as she was being, already didn’t want anything to do with him; yelling at her sure as shit wouldn’t make her more inclined to join him. His hands were bunched into fists, his foot had started slamming on the floor again, his face was as bright red as his own goddamn jacket. This whole situation was balanced on the point of a pin; one wrong move and it would all be over but the crying.
He had barely flinched when Kitty had hoisted the heater up over her head. She was nothing but skin and bones, and her legs had already started buckling underneath her from the strain of just fucking holding it. He doubted she could throw the thing more than a foot in front of her; more likely, the weight would just send her crashing through the floorboards. Still though, the intent was clear. Feral cat. Be purposeful, but remain cautious. And if he could do anything, then it was that.
“Fucking…” Robin pinched the bridge of his nose as he breathed out once more. “Okay, look, I’m not dumb. I’m not expecting you to suddenly like me. I’m just… scared for you, okay? All this shit, it can eat you alive, I don’t wanna think about what might happen if you’re alone, I don’t want you getting hurt, I-”
He glanced down at the bag next to his feet, the stupid, oversized knife resting on top of it, glint of its curved blade catching his eye. He nudged it with his foot, slowly pushing it off of his belongings until it clattered to the floor, slipping just underneath a battered, weather-beaten wooden chair.
”-I’M not going to hurt you again, alright? I promise. Just let me help you, please. Just trust me, Kitty.”
He took a step forwards, floorboards creaking underneath his trainers.
“Please.”
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
"I'M NOT STUPID!" Katelyn screamed as loud as she could, tears hitting the floor beneath her, seeming to sizzle as they hit the ground.
She heard a chorus of voices, the kids that should've been her friends and peers calling her a retard. Ashlyn's voice echoed in her head, reminding her of everything she had done wrong, and how her brain didn't work right. She was smarter than they thought, more clever than they would ever know.
The muscles in her back tensed up. Her hackles were raised, her fur standing on end. Ears pulled back and spine arched. Her rage was boiling over, billowing out into the world like clouds of smoke. Panic overwhelmed her heart, her thoughts overwhelmed by the stress of it all.
"AND I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!" she hissed. "I'M NOT SOME F-FUCKING WEAK LITTLE THING THAT NEEDS YOUR PROTECTION!"
Nobody ever gave her the respect she wanted. Everyone treated her like she was made of glass, ready to break at the slightest touch. She was stronger than they recognized, and tougher than they could see.
She took a step back, mirroring Robin's step forward, her legs steadying themselves, her eyes affixed to her target. Her breathing picked back up, coming out fast, hard, and hot. She bared her teeth, fangs ready to dig in. The warnings didn't work, so he was going to get hurt. Then he'd learn his lesson, and he'd finally leave her be.
"I DON'T TRUST YOU!" she cried, voice breaking. "SO GET. AWAY. FROM ME!"
A surge of strength shot through her body, a mix of fury and adrenaline acting like lightning in her veins. Every muscle in her body roared with effort, mustering up every ounce of force her tiny frame could muster. She reared back, and like a loaded spring uncoiling, hurled the heater at Robin.
She heard a chorus of voices, the kids that should've been her friends and peers calling her a retard. Ashlyn's voice echoed in her head, reminding her of everything she had done wrong, and how her brain didn't work right. She was smarter than they thought, more clever than they would ever know.
The muscles in her back tensed up. Her hackles were raised, her fur standing on end. Ears pulled back and spine arched. Her rage was boiling over, billowing out into the world like clouds of smoke. Panic overwhelmed her heart, her thoughts overwhelmed by the stress of it all.
"AND I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP!" she hissed. "I'M NOT SOME F-FUCKING WEAK LITTLE THING THAT NEEDS YOUR PROTECTION!"
Nobody ever gave her the respect she wanted. Everyone treated her like she was made of glass, ready to break at the slightest touch. She was stronger than they recognized, and tougher than they could see.
She took a step back, mirroring Robin's step forward, her legs steadying themselves, her eyes affixed to her target. Her breathing picked back up, coming out fast, hard, and hot. She bared her teeth, fangs ready to dig in. The warnings didn't work, so he was going to get hurt. Then he'd learn his lesson, and he'd finally leave her be.
"I DON'T TRUST YOU!" she cried, voice breaking. "SO GET. AWAY. FROM ME!"
A surge of strength shot through her body, a mix of fury and adrenaline acting like lightning in her veins. Every muscle in her body roared with effort, mustering up every ounce of force her tiny frame could muster. She reared back, and like a loaded spring uncoiling, hurled the heater at Robin.
She was much, much stronger than she looked.
The throw was haphazard and wild, but it had all the force of Kitty’s white-hot, spitting rage behind it, flying too fast for him to react properly, ears still ringing from her piercing yell. He had enough time to freeze mid-stride and for his eyes to widen in alarm. Nothing more.
One corner of the heater impacted with Robin’s skull, digging in, knocking his cap loose, a sickening crunch echoing through the tiny cabin. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own bag, legs giving way underneath him like crumpled fibreglass, sending him toppling to the ground.
There was a long, vicious silence. Robin’s body lay in a heap on the cold wooden floorboards, framed by the light from the open doorway. His hand twitched. His foot quivered. His legs refused to move. His arms wouldn’t respond, failing to push himself back up. His mind was too blank to panic. Everything felt so suddenly, shockingly cold.
If you listened closely, you could just about hear the shadow of his voice.
“Ki… Kit…. You….. You bi…. Just… I… Juh….”
Dark red blood seeped into the crimson of his jacket.
The throw was haphazard and wild, but it had all the force of Kitty’s white-hot, spitting rage behind it, flying too fast for him to react properly, ears still ringing from her piercing yell. He had enough time to freeze mid-stride and for his eyes to widen in alarm. Nothing more.
One corner of the heater impacted with Robin’s skull, digging in, knocking his cap loose, a sickening crunch echoing through the tiny cabin. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his own bag, legs giving way underneath him like crumpled fibreglass, sending him toppling to the ground.
There was a long, vicious silence. Robin’s body lay in a heap on the cold wooden floorboards, framed by the light from the open doorway. His hand twitched. His foot quivered. His legs refused to move. His arms wouldn’t respond, failing to push himself back up. His mind was too blank to panic. Everything felt so suddenly, shockingly cold.
If you listened closely, you could just about hear the shadow of his voice.
“Ki… Kit…. You….. You bi…. Just… I… Juh….”
Dark red blood seeped into the crimson of his jacket.
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Katelyn stopped dead, her anger going from white-hot to flash-frozen in an instant. She dared not move a single inch, her eyes like saucers, staring at the crumpled, bleeding mass that was formerly Robin. Her voice was the first to thaw and break through, reminding both the world and herself that she was not a statue.
"R-Robin?"
Her voice was barely a whimper, her mind still catching up to the present, replaying and processing events over and over in her head, trying to make sense of what just happened.
"Robin," she pleaded, "a-are you okay?"
Only the faintest mumbling could be heard from him, a mockery of what could be called a response. Katelyn was struck with utter disbelief, the horror of the situation she had caused slowly beginning to dawn on her.
"N-No, no," she stammered, "I- I d-didn't m-mean to-"
Blood pooled rapidly beneath Robin's head, and Katelyn started to tremble. Instinctively, she reached down to her pocket, feeling for her cell phone to call for help, only to remember that it had been confiscated, and no ambulance could have possibly reached them here anyway.
In his state, Robin was already dead. He didn't deserve to be broken like this, and killing him wasn't what she had wanted. She only wanted him to go away!
Her heart hammered in her chest, and all at once Katelyn's muscles began working again. She dashed over to her belongings, rushing to gather them all before throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder and hurrying to the exit. Eager as she was to make her way out and get away from the scene of her terrible deed, she stopped dead in her tracks when a quiet moan escaped Robin's lips. She craned her neck back, eyeing his crumpled form behind her. A dead man breathing he may be, but who knew how long it would take for him to actually die in this state?
The glint of the knife on the floor caught her eye. She bit into her bottom lip, a pinprick of pain drawing blood into her mouth, filling it with that familiar copper taste as her nose caught a whiff of that same scent.
During the summer, she liked to go hunting. She didn't want or have a gun, so she was only ever able to hunt with her bow. That limited her to small game, like birds, squirrels, and rabbits. Except one arrow was usually never enough to instantly kill, only fatally injure. So once the fight had left them and they collapsed, she would take out her hunting knife and finish them off to minimize their suffering.
She was in front of the knife now, reaching down to pick it up.
Robin deserved the same mercy she would give to small animals, didn't he? At least her anatomy studies meant she knew how to make it quick. Sever all of the carotid arteries, and a person would be unconscious after only a second or two.
She took up a position behind Robin's head, kneeling down behind him. His eyes met hers, briefly, the faintest recognition still passing between them. She took hold of him, fresh tears falling from her face onto his. She removed the knife from its sheathe, and brought the point to his neck. For a moment she froze up again, the realization of what she was doing hitting her all at once like a truck.
Katelyn pulled the knife back, her hand shaking. This wasn't anything like finishing small animals. She squeezed the handle of the knife until her knuckles went white, and forced her breathing to slow, taking deep breaths in and out. Her impulsivity had already killed him, she reminded herself, he just wasn't dead yet.
Tenderly, she caressed his cheek, placing the knife back where it needed to go.
"Sorry, Robin."
Katelyn forced the knife an inch into Robin's neck. Then, like carving a holiday ham, slashed it all the way across, his blood pouring out of the wound like a river.
"I'm so sorry."
"R-Robin?"
Her voice was barely a whimper, her mind still catching up to the present, replaying and processing events over and over in her head, trying to make sense of what just happened.
"Robin," she pleaded, "a-are you okay?"
Only the faintest mumbling could be heard from him, a mockery of what could be called a response. Katelyn was struck with utter disbelief, the horror of the situation she had caused slowly beginning to dawn on her.
"N-No, no," she stammered, "I- I d-didn't m-mean to-"
Blood pooled rapidly beneath Robin's head, and Katelyn started to tremble. Instinctively, she reached down to her pocket, feeling for her cell phone to call for help, only to remember that it had been confiscated, and no ambulance could have possibly reached them here anyway.
In his state, Robin was already dead. He didn't deserve to be broken like this, and killing him wasn't what she had wanted. She only wanted him to go away!
Her heart hammered in her chest, and all at once Katelyn's muscles began working again. She dashed over to her belongings, rushing to gather them all before throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder and hurrying to the exit. Eager as she was to make her way out and get away from the scene of her terrible deed, she stopped dead in her tracks when a quiet moan escaped Robin's lips. She craned her neck back, eyeing his crumpled form behind her. A dead man breathing he may be, but who knew how long it would take for him to actually die in this state?
The glint of the knife on the floor caught her eye. She bit into her bottom lip, a pinprick of pain drawing blood into her mouth, filling it with that familiar copper taste as her nose caught a whiff of that same scent.
During the summer, she liked to go hunting. She didn't want or have a gun, so she was only ever able to hunt with her bow. That limited her to small game, like birds, squirrels, and rabbits. Except one arrow was usually never enough to instantly kill, only fatally injure. So once the fight had left them and they collapsed, she would take out her hunting knife and finish them off to minimize their suffering.
She was in front of the knife now, reaching down to pick it up.
Robin deserved the same mercy she would give to small animals, didn't he? At least her anatomy studies meant she knew how to make it quick. Sever all of the carotid arteries, and a person would be unconscious after only a second or two.
She took up a position behind Robin's head, kneeling down behind him. His eyes met hers, briefly, the faintest recognition still passing between them. She took hold of him, fresh tears falling from her face onto his. She removed the knife from its sheathe, and brought the point to his neck. For a moment she froze up again, the realization of what she was doing hitting her all at once like a truck.
Katelyn pulled the knife back, her hand shaking. This wasn't anything like finishing small animals. She squeezed the handle of the knife until her knuckles went white, and forced her breathing to slow, taking deep breaths in and out. Her impulsivity had already killed him, she reminded herself, he just wasn't dead yet.
Tenderly, she caressed his cheek, placing the knife back where it needed to go.
"Sorry, Robin."
Katelyn forced the knife an inch into Robin's neck. Then, like carving a holiday ham, slashed it all the way across, his blood pouring out of the wound like a river.
"I'm so sorry."
There was movement going on above him, the echo of a voice, muddled and blurry and far off in the distance. Each word indistinguishable from the next, each sound a dull soft thud, cargo sinking down to the depths of the sea. He was in the side room at a party, hearing but not comprehending the conversation happening in the lounge. He was awake in the middle of the night, only half-lucid, a light filtering through the crack under his bedroom door, incomprehensible words being exchanged right outside of it.
He couldn’t even raise his head up to look around, to even catch a glimpse of what was going on. His neck was limp, a single string tying his chin to his shoulders, his head a bag of sand, ripped open and spilling out but never growing lighter. His body twitched, vague imitations of life coursing through his body.
“Kh… kih… what… whas…”
The ceiling hung above him, sitting at a crooked angle, ready to collapse and bury him as soon as Kitty left and he was left out of sight, alone, forgotten about. He mustered up all his strength, though he could barely even figure out why any more, forcing it into his arms, making them push himself back up. His left arm spasmed briefly, then fell still.
Then the roof disappeared, and in its place was the fuzzy, indistinct shape of Kitty’s face, shrouded in her winter hood, jet black streaks marking her face. Robin’s eyes, the last part of him that was working as they should, briefly met hers. His face was growing damp with tears. He saw her face. Saw a look - a smile? A frown? - flash across her face.
Saw the familiar glint hanging over his throat like a pendulum.
“Nuh… kih… kit, doh… don’t…”
Had he spoken those words, or just thought them? Had they reached Kitty’s ears, or was she doing her very best to blot them out? The blade floated in midair for an eternity. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe she was going to leave him. Maybe she was going to save him. Maybe he was long, long gone already. He felt a sense of warmth on his cheek, a kind of tenderness he hadn’t experienced for years, something he had thrown away for foot on the podium and a medal of fool’s gold.
He didn’t feel a thing when the knife first pierced his throat.
He felt it when Kitty ripped it along his neck, carving through skin and sinew. But only for a moment.
Engine off.
Red flag: session will resume in one hour's time.
He couldn’t even raise his head up to look around, to even catch a glimpse of what was going on. His neck was limp, a single string tying his chin to his shoulders, his head a bag of sand, ripped open and spilling out but never growing lighter. His body twitched, vague imitations of life coursing through his body.
“Kh… kih… what… whas…”
The ceiling hung above him, sitting at a crooked angle, ready to collapse and bury him as soon as Kitty left and he was left out of sight, alone, forgotten about. He mustered up all his strength, though he could barely even figure out why any more, forcing it into his arms, making them push himself back up. His left arm spasmed briefly, then fell still.
Then the roof disappeared, and in its place was the fuzzy, indistinct shape of Kitty’s face, shrouded in her winter hood, jet black streaks marking her face. Robin’s eyes, the last part of him that was working as they should, briefly met hers. His face was growing damp with tears. He saw her face. Saw a look - a smile? A frown? - flash across her face.
Saw the familiar glint hanging over his throat like a pendulum.
“Nuh… kih… kit, doh… don’t…”
Had he spoken those words, or just thought them? Had they reached Kitty’s ears, or was she doing her very best to blot them out? The blade floated in midair for an eternity. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe she was going to leave him. Maybe she was going to save him. Maybe he was long, long gone already. He felt a sense of warmth on his cheek, a kind of tenderness he hadn’t experienced for years, something he had thrown away for foot on the podium and a medal of fool’s gold.
He didn’t feel a thing when the knife first pierced his throat.
He felt it when Kitty ripped it along his neck, carving through skin and sinew. But only for a moment.
Engine off.
Red flag: session will resume in one hour's time.
S019 - ROBIN "ROMEO" VALENTI: DECEASED
"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
The knife clattered to the ground next to Katelyn as the life left Robin's eyes.
A spray of blood had been his parting gift, leaving a red spatter going up her vest and jacket. She turned her palms to her face and gawked at the cherry-red blood now coating her hands. Her hands began to tremble anew, only for their shaking to travel up her arms and into her spine. Her whole body shivered, and she reached up to her face to steady herself, only to remember at the last moment what she had done, feeling the warm, sticky sensation of a bloody handprint left behind on her right cheek.
Her tears didn't stop, still landing on Robin's lifeless face as his blood soaked into her leggings and stained her boots. The collar around her neck, and the weight it carried, grew heavier by the moment. A dreadful pressure built up inside her lungs, and she tried to hold it back, only for it to forcefully burst forth from her mouth, making her wail like an infant crying out for her mother.
What a horrible day this was.
A spray of blood had been his parting gift, leaving a red spatter going up her vest and jacket. She turned her palms to her face and gawked at the cherry-red blood now coating her hands. Her hands began to tremble anew, only for their shaking to travel up her arms and into her spine. Her whole body shivered, and she reached up to her face to steady herself, only to remember at the last moment what she had done, feeling the warm, sticky sensation of a bloody handprint left behind on her right cheek.
Her tears didn't stop, still landing on Robin's lifeless face as his blood soaked into her leggings and stained her boots. The collar around her neck, and the weight it carried, grew heavier by the moment. A dreadful pressure built up inside her lungs, and she tried to hold it back, only for it to forcefully burst forth from her mouth, making her wail like an infant crying out for her mother.
What a horrible day this was.
((S045 - California “Cali” Fox - Game Start))
Pushing the branches of the fir tree out of the way California trudged through the snow. A light smattering dusting the top of her beanie and the shoulders of her jacket as her boots crunched through the layer on the ground.
She turned her head towards the sound of shouting and slowly blinked.
As she waited she heard more sounds of commotion and then it went quiet. She blinked again and released the breath she had been holding in. The air steaming up from the heat.
The steps she took closer to the source of the noise were slower and quieter. The camp came into view through the trees, wolves hung from a pole. Then she heard the wailing and stopped, eyes widening. She stood, frozen in the snow as the sound cut through her. Another long, slow, blink. The noise made no sign of abating. So eventually she forced herself to move closer.
The log cabin was slowly falling in on itself, the process of reclamation in full swing. The forest didn’t care for who they had been or what came before, they merely existed within it for the short time they had. Stepping over and around the log seats, California made her way to the door. She took a deep breath in and laid a hand on the wood, then slowly and carefully pushed it open.
The scene she found was out of a horror movie, blood having sprayed itself across the floor and over one of the cabins occupants. Meanwhile, the other lay on the floor motionless, a pool of crimson slowly widening out from beneath their form like they were a fallen glass not yet picked up.
California’s breath caught and she swallowed, holding her suddenly dry mouth shut.
“Kitty…” She breathed, eyes wide and body shaking with adrenaline. “Kitty, what happened?”
Pushing the branches of the fir tree out of the way California trudged through the snow. A light smattering dusting the top of her beanie and the shoulders of her jacket as her boots crunched through the layer on the ground.
She turned her head towards the sound of shouting and slowly blinked.
As she waited she heard more sounds of commotion and then it went quiet. She blinked again and released the breath she had been holding in. The air steaming up from the heat.
The steps she took closer to the source of the noise were slower and quieter. The camp came into view through the trees, wolves hung from a pole. Then she heard the wailing and stopped, eyes widening. She stood, frozen in the snow as the sound cut through her. Another long, slow, blink. The noise made no sign of abating. So eventually she forced herself to move closer.
The log cabin was slowly falling in on itself, the process of reclamation in full swing. The forest didn’t care for who they had been or what came before, they merely existed within it for the short time they had. Stepping over and around the log seats, California made her way to the door. She took a deep breath in and laid a hand on the wood, then slowly and carefully pushed it open.
The scene she found was out of a horror movie, blood having sprayed itself across the floor and over one of the cabins occupants. Meanwhile, the other lay on the floor motionless, a pool of crimson slowly widening out from beneath their form like they were a fallen glass not yet picked up.
California’s breath caught and she swallowed, holding her suddenly dry mouth shut.
“Kitty…” She breathed, eyes wide and body shaking with adrenaline. “Kitty, what happened?”
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BlizzardeyeWonder
- Posts: 1086
- Joined: Mon Aug 13, 2018 3:41 pm
- Location: the shadow realm
Meena sat up in a tent. Felt the collar around her neck. Felt the shotgun...
[Meena Lalita Kumar: Island START]
He she he she nobody cared about this shit on the island why was he debating she slowly got up, her breathing still shaky. Her vision still a little blurred. This might not be real but in a way it was selfish to think it couldn't be real, because this sort of thing was always the sort of thing that happened "to someone else" - until it happened to you.
And then it happened to Meena! It was awful, she was gonna die horribly at the hands of one of her classmates or this horrible collar or the horrible cold, and-
-it was probably the best thing that could have happened to her let's be honest.
She stopped in her tracks as she walked towards the warming looking cabin. Her breath condensed, in front of her.
Because if you think about it, what were Meena's options for death, really? Dying a painful death of some liver disease at 40 like her grandpa, dying a maybe less painful but existentially humiliating death from medical malpractice at 72 like her grandma, getting hate-crimed for being an immigrant, murdered in a back alley for the crime of saying "no" to the wrong guy...
But SOTF? Oh, SOTF! What a tragedy it'd be if she died here, but it was different somehow. All those other deaths would be Meena dying somewhere alone, uncared for. She glanced up into the trees, and saw a glimpse of a camera. Whatever she did here, thousands - maybe even millions - would see. And in their own twisted ways, they would care. Her parents might see this. Her friends - were they her friends? - would see this.
And maybe... if Meena really did let this place get to her like so many others had...
...But enough of that. It was cold. Meena wanted shelter. She wanted to find a bed to sleep in, while she still could sleep. None of this had settled in yet. For all she knew, the shotgun in her hand a bag over her shoulder were as ephemeral as dreams. No bullets in the gun. She hoped it'd be scary enough that she didn't need bullets.
(One of her fellow writer friends - well, she thought he was a friend - was really into guns. He would have liked this sawed-off. There must have been some time when he rambled about how it worked, but Meena wasn't paying as much attention as she could have.)
She peeked into the open door.
She stared.
She screamed.
She was awake.
[Meena Lalita Kumar: Island START]
He she he she nobody cared about this shit on the island why was he debating she slowly got up, her breathing still shaky. Her vision still a little blurred. This might not be real but in a way it was selfish to think it couldn't be real, because this sort of thing was always the sort of thing that happened "to someone else" - until it happened to you.
And then it happened to Meena! It was awful, she was gonna die horribly at the hands of one of her classmates or this horrible collar or the horrible cold, and-
-it was probably the best thing that could have happened to her let's be honest.
She stopped in her tracks as she walked towards the warming looking cabin. Her breath condensed, in front of her.
Because if you think about it, what were Meena's options for death, really? Dying a painful death of some liver disease at 40 like her grandpa, dying a maybe less painful but existentially humiliating death from medical malpractice at 72 like her grandma, getting hate-crimed for being an immigrant, murdered in a back alley for the crime of saying "no" to the wrong guy...
But SOTF? Oh, SOTF! What a tragedy it'd be if she died here, but it was different somehow. All those other deaths would be Meena dying somewhere alone, uncared for. She glanced up into the trees, and saw a glimpse of a camera. Whatever she did here, thousands - maybe even millions - would see. And in their own twisted ways, they would care. Her parents might see this. Her friends - were they her friends? - would see this.
And maybe... if Meena really did let this place get to her like so many others had...
...But enough of that. It was cold. Meena wanted shelter. She wanted to find a bed to sleep in, while she still could sleep. None of this had settled in yet. For all she knew, the shotgun in her hand a bag over her shoulder were as ephemeral as dreams. No bullets in the gun. She hoped it'd be scary enough that she didn't need bullets.
(One of her fellow writer friends - well, she thought he was a friend - was really into guns. He would have liked this sawed-off. There must have been some time when he rambled about how it worked, but Meena wasn't paying as much attention as she could have.)
She peeked into the open door.
She stared.
She screamed.
She was awake.
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VoltTurtle
- Posts: 1525
- Joined: Fri Aug 10, 2018 4:10 pm
- Location: Dreamland
Katelyn's head spun so hard when the door began to open that it threatened to twist itself off her neck, her eyes so full of fright that they were close to popping out of their sockets. When Katelyn saw who was on the other side, she was struck by both relief and dismay in equal measure. There were far worse people that could've stumbled upon this scene. California was at least a friend. However, this was the last position that she wanted to have a friend see her in.
She had to explain, now.
"I- he- it was an accident," she babbled, "Robin- he w-wouldn't go away, so I-I-I threw-"
She looked at the heater, one corner splattered in Robin's blood, and she choked up.
"-and then he w-was bleeding and dying a-and I didn't want him to s-suffer so I-"
Her throat closed up again, her eyes darting to the knife on the floor next to her, sitting in a rapidly growing pool of Robin's blood.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked, barely able to speak, "I'm so, so s-sorry, I didn't m-mean to-"
She saw Meena standing not too far behind California as she blathered out her apologies, her eye catching the shotgun by the other girl's side. Her heart rate kicked back up, and she scrabbled for the knife before scrambling to her feet as Meena screamed.
"THIS ISN'T WH-WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE," she screeched, brandishing the knife in front of her, past California. "D-DON'T COME N-NEAR ME!"
She had to explain, now.
"I- he- it was an accident," she babbled, "Robin- he w-wouldn't go away, so I-I-I threw-"
She looked at the heater, one corner splattered in Robin's blood, and she choked up.
"-and then he w-was bleeding and dying a-and I didn't want him to s-suffer so I-"
Her throat closed up again, her eyes darting to the knife on the floor next to her, sitting in a rapidly growing pool of Robin's blood.
"I'm sorry," she squeaked, barely able to speak, "I'm so, so s-sorry, I didn't m-mean to-"
She saw Meena standing not too far behind California as she blathered out her apologies, her eye catching the shotgun by the other girl's side. Her heart rate kicked back up, and she scrabbled for the knife before scrambling to her feet as Meena screamed.
"THIS ISN'T WH-WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE," she screeched, brandishing the knife in front of her, past California. "D-DON'T COME N-NEAR ME!"
California had never been much for comforting people through touch. It seemed to presume an intimacy with the person and California wasn't that close to people. Not in that way. It meant that the thought to cross the threshold and be by Kitty's side hadn't entered her mind by the time her friend started explaining herself. At least, she tried explaining herself. The words were a jumbled mess, blurring together in her attempt to get an explanation out into the world. To just try and tell California something and California herself had to admit she didn't know how to parse it. A long-term weakness of her brain and the way it processed things.
Kitty was apologizing by the time California had caught up with the story. It was hard to see her friend so shaken up but didn't make any attempt to get closer.
California opened her mouth to respond but her reply was lost to the ether as a scream broke through the stillness behind her. California couldn't help jumping out of surprise and spun around, her hand going to her jacket pocket but settling on top of it.
Another small girl. Her name was Meena. At least California thought it was close to that. She didn't know much about them. But she couldn't help but see the shotgun that was being held. California's breathing and heart rate had sped up again with the sudden shock of Meena's appearance but if she thought her reaction was bad, Kitty's was even worse.
The sudden burst of noise from both sides made California take a step back away from the doorway she raised her hands up in a placating gesture.
"It's okay," She said, although the tone of her voice made clear that it very much wasn't, "Just, just take a sec."
Kitty was apologizing by the time California had caught up with the story. It was hard to see her friend so shaken up but didn't make any attempt to get closer.
California opened her mouth to respond but her reply was lost to the ether as a scream broke through the stillness behind her. California couldn't help jumping out of surprise and spun around, her hand going to her jacket pocket but settling on top of it.
Another small girl. Her name was Meena. At least California thought it was close to that. She didn't know much about them. But she couldn't help but see the shotgun that was being held. California's breathing and heart rate had sped up again with the sudden shock of Meena's appearance but if she thought her reaction was bad, Kitty's was even worse.
The sudden burst of noise from both sides made California take a step back away from the doorway she raised her hands up in a placating gesture.
"It's okay," She said, although the tone of her voice made clear that it very much wasn't, "Just, just take a sec."