This is the Story of a Girl

A 1930s-style lounge is to the right of the lobby. Tables are covered by dark blue cloths, which are sticky with the wax of romantic candles left burning for too long. A stage is home to an out of tune piano and blue velvet curtain. The bar is well stocked with carefully labeled bottles.
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umop-ap!sdn*
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This is the Story of a Girl

#1

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((Cassidy Kant continued from Ultimately, We Just Want to be Happy))

Cassidy entered through door labelled "service entrance" and moved through the kitchen. Scary scenes often happened in kitchens. She heals her breath and took fast, heavy steps and burst through into the next room.

The hotel's lounge was still looking beautiful. In another life, Cassidy would have been excited to check into her room and smell the soaps. She'd gotten too big for bed jumping to be undisturbing to those roomed below her. She at least would have sat on the end of the bed and bounced herself lightly to mimick the stimulation.

She looked over towards the stage, taking a seat at one of the tables. It was cutely quaint, even if it was just another scene to the slaughter. Cassidy rested her elbow on the table and placed her head in her hand. She couldn't tell if she was relieved or disappointed that the room was empty. No Matt, but no murderers either. The burned down candles caught her eye, once romantic towers of beauty, now reduced to solid puddles. Sure, candles were meant to be burned, but the deep shade of blue might have been worked into any kind of beautiful shape that she would never know. She sighed.

She was crying again. All she'd ever wanted was to be happy. She never had lofty dreams of fame or fortune, she only wanted just enough to live comfortably and around loved ones. Now she was being punished. Emotionally pummeled and would later be physically mutilated as well. She was only safe until the killers, whoever they might be, found her. Be it her classmates, be the terrorists, be it her own troubled hands. Her life was going to be taken from her.

Somebody very dear to her once assured her that there was a heaven. While she couldn't fully believe either way, the possibility that something waited for her beyond had been comforting at the time. Now that she and sure death stood nose to nose, that slight possibility wasn't enough to reassure her of anything. She was going to die, and that would be it. Her consciousness would be lost forever, and she would cease to exist until the end of time.

All was lost. Every little bit of it. It wasn't fair. She hadn't even gotten to live her own life yet, she hadn't tasted the independence of college or moving out or even sex! Most people had the luxury of living long enough to convince themselves death wasn't the end, why had she been cheated of that? What had she done in her life to merit this finale?

She'd had a rough start to her life, and now this to end it? Karma wasn't real, there was no sort of all powerful force balancing out the good and bad in the universe. There was only fucking chance and probability, it was just like her parents had always told her. What had eternal optimism landed her in?

"Oh, let's go to Disneyland with my entire graduating class. It will be so much fun, we'll all hang out one last time in the happiest place on Earth before we all go our separate ways to live out our individual, unique dreams!" She pictured herself with big cartoon eyes, hands folded and clasped at her chest as she stared up dreamily. Even she could sneer at such a thought now.

Get a grip. She wasn't dead. She was just taunting herself with death. Rescue was still a possibility, and there was even a chance she could make it out of this alive. She'd heard somewhere that the last winner hadn't even killed the runner up, would it be possible?

The optimism drought seemed to be over. One thing was for sure, that was the lowest point of her life. It was all uphill from here. She blinked and looked back up at the stage, knowing hope still existed. Even if she was being stupid for clasping to it, it was better than hopelessness.

She stood up, her fingers moved to the underside of the table. Her thumbs pointed outwards. The table rotated forward and moved away from her, the cloth trailing behind prettily. The sound of the wood hitting the floor was dulled by the tablecloth between them. It was the most destruction she'd seen all day, and it was caused by her. Maybe she didn't have to be afraid of her classmates after all.

Matt wasn't here, it was time to leave. Cassidy walked around the table and moved towards the corner of the room where there was another door. Rather than finding an exit, she was greeted by a series of stairs.

((Cassidy Kant continued in Allow Me to Begin))
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