(Daria Bhatia concluding from there only exist slaves to emotions ) The air was thick with corpse rot. She'd known it would be. Knew it couldn't be any other way, laws of biology and chemistry being what they were. But there's always a part of you that hopes it's gonna be like the movies. You know i...

"Where?" Willow asked. Daria smiled, and Willow helped her to her feet, and Daria told her where she wanted to go. It was okay. It was gonna be okay. She would die on her own terms. That was all she'd ever wanted, right? Whole reason she'd started this stupid plan. Willow was gonna help he...

"Please, Will."

She hated the shaking in her voice.

"This isn't where...I want to die."

Her hands grasped at Willow's shoulders.

"And I can't...get there. Without you."

No dialogue this time. Only darkness, illuminated by ripping thunderbolts of pain that tore up and down her spine and danced raggedly in her guts. And illuminated by all that burning agony was Chris' face, and the gun in Chris' hand. She shot me. After all your fine words on justice, and trust; afte...

Stupid of her to cut through the garden. Things were thick with overgrowth, and even the narrow rut she was walking on didn't keep her free and clear of underbrush, branches, or low-slung boughs. But the voices were nearby, muffled but familiar. Daria pushed her way into the open, nearly lost her ba...

(Daria Bhatia continued from Horseshoes and Handgrenades ) Step by limping step, Daria made her painful way home. The knife still wiggled painfully with every step, even with her hand to steady the blade, and her head ached where the bullet had carved its groove across her skull, but in spite of all...

"I can't." Daria almost fell over. "Not yet." And found strength in her limbs yet again. Not yet wasn't no. Not yet wasn't never. Not yet was a sliver of hope, from a girl she'd thought she'd never see again. Maybe it wasn't over yet. Maybe there was still a chance for peace. For...

"...Me too." Daria smiled down at her, found her eyes still sticky with blood and now also hazy with tears. She closed her eyes, took a shallow breath (in, out) so as not to shake the knife still in her side. "I can try," Daria replied, when Kate asked her for help standing. &quo...

Kate groaned, fought to speak. Her words were weak, almost emotionless: "Why do you... keep tryna' help me... what's with you?" She tried to rise again, failed and fell back: Daria was too slow to catch her, crawled closer and put her head in her lap without thinking. "I'm sorry...&qu...

Crawling, pained and unsteady, her head still spinning, a throb of dull, frozen agony in her side. "Kate?" she called. "Kate?" She didn't want it to happen again. She didn't want to lose anyone else. She didn't- Movement nearby. Daria lifted her head. "Kate?" she said a...

BANG It's awfully hard to stare poignantly down the barrel of a gun when you have a knife in your ribs, but Daria had given it the best effort she could, with the world spinning, a handful of wounds, and someone else's blood in her eyes. Erika loomed distantly in the fading world, gun in hand and h...

Still like dancing, dizzy and mad, except it was not bliss or the electric thrill of being young and alive and in motion that made her scalp tingle and her bones sing but rage, rage so hot and bright it obliterated pain and weakness. She smashed into Erika, flailing at her, clawing for her face and ...

Dizziness was electric now, like Erika and Daria were dancing, whirling each other around as they clung desperately to the same bat. Steph's bat. Steph, beaten and shot by a monster who Daria should have killed, whether it was in the bathroom or when they'd first made eye contact in the first bright...

Dizzy with pain, dizzy with rage, careening wildly through the air like a child who'd bounced too enthusiastically upon a bed, already swinging the bat with all her remaining might. The murderous scarecrow whirled around with guns raised- Smashed off her feet, so she hit the ground with a startled y...