Not Running

[Namira]

((cotninued from Fallout Through The Fallout))

Wow. It was an abattoir in here.

Connie wasn't expecting to come back to an extra body, though it made sense in retrospect. That murderposse wasn't grouped up to play games. The thought still lingered that maybe they hadn't left and she was walking into an ambush, but she'd overheard their planning. Unless anything had changed dramatically, the trio's intentions were to head on out again. She couldn't think that her little interruption would have caused them to turn on a dime.

She couldn't lie, her nerves were jangling. Calling the encounter a wake-up call was inaccurate; Connie still knew what she wanted and honestly, coming back here was reaffirming that. It was more... The stakes. Yeah. The stakes got clarified. It wasn't all so simple as Madeleine and Cassie, or freezing the door. Those were small moves. This wasn't.

Man.

That was a lot of blood.

It felt real and... not. Both at once. She'd seen a lot of gore, read a lot of gore, wrote a lot of gore. Special effects could be so grisly, and imagination could do a lot of heavy lifting.

This didn't look like that. Or feel like it did when she was sitting at her computer, reading, shivering.

Still...

Connie crouched next to one of the bodies. The blood pooling underneath it had gone almost black. Pooling wasn't even the right word anymore, it was totally dried up. Few days at least. Then there were the wounds. How many times had they been stabbed? She peered a little closer, then her eyes flitted across his face.

"Oh. Hi, Bill."

They weren't close, had just exchanged some horror reccs a couple times. Casually friendly, that was it.

that, was it.

"...Later."

She got up.

Sink sink sink.

Connie walked over to the basin, tried the faucet.

Nothing.

And again?

Once more.

Dammit.

Okay. Not convenient, but at least it was confirmed. She could keep moving.

Yeah.

((continued in Inverted Hostility))