Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying
[ASK FIRST] [Content Warning: Polite Conversation]
"Yeah. Me too."
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She didn't know why it would help. It was a harsh reality they were confronted with and there was simply no word that offered comfort. Why did she bother then, she wondered, and sighed.
It was another moment of stillness Fiyori endured before she even dared to think further. With the reveal - a reveal neither shocking nor surprising - she knew that some question had to be asked, and some answers to be found.
It took another, a further moment. Then she talked.
"What if these barricades fail? What if we have to fight? What do we do then?"
It was another moment of stillness Fiyori endured before she even dared to think further. With the reveal - a reveal neither shocking nor surprising - she knew that some question had to be asked, and some answers to be found.
It took another, a further moment. Then she talked.
"What if these barricades fail? What if we have to fight? What do we do then?"
Gervais Frans Lambotte 
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Georgia Lee stood and drew breath. Her heart pumped blood, which flowed through miles of twisting veins and arteries. Muscles contracted, pulling tendons taut and holding her upright, while what remained of their improvised, rationed breakfast churned in her stomach. Inside her skull neuron's fired, creating a picture in her mind of Cristo and Abby lying somewhere, able to do none of this.
She ran a thumb across her wrist, saw blue veins through white skin and tried to picture Abby slashing them. How scared she must have been, how lost and terrified and devoid of options to have done something like that. How weak.
In her ear Fiyori buzzed, murmuring empty platitudes. She would have lost friends too, Georgia Lee knew, and felt a sharp, painful sense of gratitude towards the girl for not crying. She couldn't have taken it, had Fiyori been crying.
Georgia Lee tried to find the words to respond to her. Sentiments floated in the air before her like butterflies, but each one darted and evaded her net. She wanted to say that she was sorry, that she knew Fiyori was in pain. She wanted to say that she, too, was picturing all the conversations she'd left unfinished and the feelings she'd left unspoken, all the kind words never to be heard again and the harsh words never to be taken back. She needed, she felt, to say that she was also sickened at her own response, at hoping her friends had died quickly and at hating them for dying without her, for leaving her in a place like this, with people like these. She was seeing how it would be, too, with everyone good and decent and wonderful dying one by one and leaving an island of monsters, and she wanted to tell Fiyori this as well.
She wanted to tell the girl thanks, for staying with her and for her sentiments, however hollow they might be, and to assure her that the fate of those children would not be theirs, however hollow this too might prove. Georgia Lee plunged her head into ice cold sorrow, bobbing for answers to why this had happened and how it could be prevented, for some perfect, elusive sentence that will say all of this, and say it with strength and reassurance.
Her mouth was empty, so she filled it instead with a simple answer.
"Then we have to fight."
She left it at that, sitting back down on the table. All that she'd wanted to say, all that she couldn't still swarmed around her head. She felt crowded by all the unspoken speech, and claustrophobic. Perhaps the words she couldn't find would cloud so thick that Fiyori'd see them, and Georgia Lee would never have to give them sound.
She ran a thumb across her wrist, saw blue veins through white skin and tried to picture Abby slashing them. How scared she must have been, how lost and terrified and devoid of options to have done something like that. How weak.
In her ear Fiyori buzzed, murmuring empty platitudes. She would have lost friends too, Georgia Lee knew, and felt a sharp, painful sense of gratitude towards the girl for not crying. She couldn't have taken it, had Fiyori been crying.
Georgia Lee tried to find the words to respond to her. Sentiments floated in the air before her like butterflies, but each one darted and evaded her net. She wanted to say that she was sorry, that she knew Fiyori was in pain. She wanted to say that she, too, was picturing all the conversations she'd left unfinished and the feelings she'd left unspoken, all the kind words never to be heard again and the harsh words never to be taken back. She needed, she felt, to say that she was also sickened at her own response, at hoping her friends had died quickly and at hating them for dying without her, for leaving her in a place like this, with people like these. She was seeing how it would be, too, with everyone good and decent and wonderful dying one by one and leaving an island of monsters, and she wanted to tell Fiyori this as well.
She wanted to tell the girl thanks, for staying with her and for her sentiments, however hollow they might be, and to assure her that the fate of those children would not be theirs, however hollow this too might prove. Georgia Lee plunged her head into ice cold sorrow, bobbing for answers to why this had happened and how it could be prevented, for some perfect, elusive sentence that will say all of this, and say it with strength and reassurance.
Her mouth was empty, so she filled it instead with a simple answer.
"Then we have to fight."
She left it at that, sitting back down on the table. All that she'd wanted to say, all that she couldn't still swarmed around her head. She felt crowded by all the unspoken speech, and claustrophobic. Perhaps the words she couldn't find would cloud so thick that Fiyori'd see them, and Georgia Lee would never have to give them sound.
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Then they will have to fight.
Fiyori mouthed these words after Georgia Lee. To hear them out loud from her felt, in some weird and strange way, wrong. It had been an answer Fiyori guessed, or with hindsight could have guessed already. There were few options. Fewer still which were sensible. Flee or fight, that was it. Fleeing, however, simply meant to retreat to another place. Leaving their relative safe position. It would be a foolish action. They would be hunted down by yet another killer, Fiyori realized, but then possibly in a location more disadvantageous to them.
She found them disconcerting, Georgia Lee's words. It wasn't that the girl said it. It was the fact that Fiyori thought sincerely and carefully about the 'how' already. It was her 'fate' to die, and there she was thinking about not dying. It was indeed very bothersome.
---
The continued day proved to be fruitless, bar the usual incidents clouding their minds. Voices echoing somewhere in the distance, steps coming closer and leaving again. The island and it's people were so very near, so very clear, and yet the physical space of the cafeteria created a barrier, a bubble in which they rested. Only the cold was there, and the hell that was other people. Still, the barrier that was their location had received holes in it. Small cracks and rips slowly growing to tear the whole thing apart. It was not a matter of physical damage, but the emotional toll the reality of the announcements caused.
People were. People met. People killed. People died.
Fiyori knew it was mere luck – a coincidence of questionable fortunate character – that allowed the two girls to remain unseen and hidden from the violence. It didn't make her sleep very well. Or, perhaps to be more truthful, guard very well. She was thinking and thinking. Thinking about fighting, and dying as she always did, and injuring or killing another person.
If, she thought in the darkness of the room, someone came through the door to kill them, how could Fiyori ever possibly to stop them?
She could not.
She could not, and the fact ruined her sleep completely.
---
Another morning came. Another announcement. The second, in fact, and she dreaded it's arrival hours before it came.
The names. Of course, all those names. They all meant something to her. They meant she lost an acquaintance, either a friendly or unfriendly one, to either death or insanity. A name that had stuck out to her in particular was Bradley's. He died by the hands of Kimiko Kao.
She giggled. Improper, yeah. But she could imagine it. Kimiko appearing in front of Bradley and him making some dumb as shit comments until she snapped. It wasn't as if she was delighted at these news. Hearing of his death, however, felt as if she finally witness a foregone conclusion. And, Fiyori guessed, some girl would have speared him outside of Survival of the Fittest anyway. Sooner or later.
The little warmth she gained did not last long, however.
"Familiar face number three - Isabel Ramirez is beginning to be right at home in my little announcements, isn't she? This time, Danny Brooks managed to get onto her bad side. She introduced her weapon to Mr Brooks' bad side. She stabbed him, is what I'm saying. A lot. "
Everything stopped.
All of it, all that was her was drained of life in one very short moment. And, for that one very short moment, her heart stopped beating. The light of her eye vanished, fading to – not black but a form of sheer nothing. She could not hear. She could not feel. Everything that was Fiyori Senay's body seemed to detach from her, and isolated without senses Fiyori was held to feel nothing but despair.
Fiyori Senay knelt over, and fell to the floor. By that point, she did not notice. From a certain perspective, Fiyori Senay was dying. And if she knew that she was not, she would have cursed heaven to make her so.
Fiyori mouthed these words after Georgia Lee. To hear them out loud from her felt, in some weird and strange way, wrong. It had been an answer Fiyori guessed, or with hindsight could have guessed already. There were few options. Fewer still which were sensible. Flee or fight, that was it. Fleeing, however, simply meant to retreat to another place. Leaving their relative safe position. It would be a foolish action. They would be hunted down by yet another killer, Fiyori realized, but then possibly in a location more disadvantageous to them.
She found them disconcerting, Georgia Lee's words. It wasn't that the girl said it. It was the fact that Fiyori thought sincerely and carefully about the 'how' already. It was her 'fate' to die, and there she was thinking about not dying. It was indeed very bothersome.
---
The continued day proved to be fruitless, bar the usual incidents clouding their minds. Voices echoing somewhere in the distance, steps coming closer and leaving again. The island and it's people were so very near, so very clear, and yet the physical space of the cafeteria created a barrier, a bubble in which they rested. Only the cold was there, and the hell that was other people. Still, the barrier that was their location had received holes in it. Small cracks and rips slowly growing to tear the whole thing apart. It was not a matter of physical damage, but the emotional toll the reality of the announcements caused.
People were. People met. People killed. People died.
Fiyori knew it was mere luck – a coincidence of questionable fortunate character – that allowed the two girls to remain unseen and hidden from the violence. It didn't make her sleep very well. Or, perhaps to be more truthful, guard very well. She was thinking and thinking. Thinking about fighting, and dying as she always did, and injuring or killing another person.
If, she thought in the darkness of the room, someone came through the door to kill them, how could Fiyori ever possibly to stop them?
She could not.
She could not, and the fact ruined her sleep completely.
---
Another morning came. Another announcement. The second, in fact, and she dreaded it's arrival hours before it came.
The names. Of course, all those names. They all meant something to her. They meant she lost an acquaintance, either a friendly or unfriendly one, to either death or insanity. A name that had stuck out to her in particular was Bradley's. He died by the hands of Kimiko Kao.
She giggled. Improper, yeah. But she could imagine it. Kimiko appearing in front of Bradley and him making some dumb as shit comments until she snapped. It wasn't as if she was delighted at these news. Hearing of his death, however, felt as if she finally witness a foregone conclusion. And, Fiyori guessed, some girl would have speared him outside of Survival of the Fittest anyway. Sooner or later.
The little warmth she gained did not last long, however.
"Familiar face number three - Isabel Ramirez is beginning to be right at home in my little announcements, isn't she? This time, Danny Brooks managed to get onto her bad side. She introduced her weapon to Mr Brooks' bad side. She stabbed him, is what I'm saying. A lot. "
Everything stopped.
All of it, all that was her was drained of life in one very short moment. And, for that one very short moment, her heart stopped beating. The light of her eye vanished, fading to – not black but a form of sheer nothing. She could not hear. She could not feel. Everything that was Fiyori Senay's body seemed to detach from her, and isolated without senses Fiyori was held to feel nothing but despair.
Fiyori Senay knelt over, and fell to the floor. By that point, she did not notice. From a certain perspective, Fiyori Senay was dying. And if she knew that she was not, she would have cursed heaven to make her so.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
It had taken years for Georgia Lee to stop biting her nails, but now, two days after she'd woken up on this island they were chewed raw and ragged. There was no nail left to chew now, but the tip of her thumb was still in her mouth, the sour, unwashed digit running down the length of her unbrushed teeth.
If there had ever been a time she'd gone this long without showering, Georgia Lee couldn't remember it. It felt wrong, to be dying unclean. Death should have some dignity, she always thought.
Her grandmother had smoked two packs of Capris every day of her life, and you could tell. The old lady had smelled like a steelworks, and the nicotine that had stained her curtains and ceilings had seemed to stain her whole body, too, leaving her with a yellowed, varnished look. Her clothes were ratty, her teeth rotting out of her head, yet when the Days had gathered around the casket to put her in the ground she'd looked beautiful: cleaned up and made up, twenty years younger than she'd looked when she was alive.
And how would Georgia Lee look? Hair greasy, clothes fetid, probably half rotted by the time they found her body, if they even ever did. A face full of bullet holes, maybe? Chest slashed to ribbons, limbs broken? There wouldn't be an open casket, that's for sure. A token funeral, probably, just burying some of her old clothes, sisters pretending to weep, parents wishing they'd done more.
Georgia Lee should have felt bad for them, she supposed, but all the pity she had in her was now saved for herself. She had no sadness left to share, she realized, as he watched Fiyori break down. Her only thought, as the girl collapsed, was "oh, so that's what that looks like."
Fiyori seemed to have been keeping it together, but what did that mean? Anyone looking on would have thought Georgia Lee was together, too, and right now she was the least together she'd ever been. She was apart, thoughts and hopes and fears all floating around, separate, having no bearing on her body or what it was doing, because what was it doing? Sitting. Waiting.
She'd paced for a while. She'd thought about exercising, but food was limited and water even more so, and they needed more than anything to conserve both and so Georgia Lee had conserved herself. When had she last stood up? Hours ago, maybe; she'd been in this chair so long it almost felt like it was a part of her. Could that happen? Perhaps that was what happened, when everything that it meant to be alive was taken from someone, but their life wasn't. They just became a nonperson. An object. A piece of furniture.
She watched Fiyori, as one watches a mouse in a maze, waiting to see what it'll do. Perhaps she should have said something. Perhaps she should say something, now.
Georgia Lee said nothing.
If there had ever been a time she'd gone this long without showering, Georgia Lee couldn't remember it. It felt wrong, to be dying unclean. Death should have some dignity, she always thought.
Her grandmother had smoked two packs of Capris every day of her life, and you could tell. The old lady had smelled like a steelworks, and the nicotine that had stained her curtains and ceilings had seemed to stain her whole body, too, leaving her with a yellowed, varnished look. Her clothes were ratty, her teeth rotting out of her head, yet when the Days had gathered around the casket to put her in the ground she'd looked beautiful: cleaned up and made up, twenty years younger than she'd looked when she was alive.
And how would Georgia Lee look? Hair greasy, clothes fetid, probably half rotted by the time they found her body, if they even ever did. A face full of bullet holes, maybe? Chest slashed to ribbons, limbs broken? There wouldn't be an open casket, that's for sure. A token funeral, probably, just burying some of her old clothes, sisters pretending to weep, parents wishing they'd done more.
Georgia Lee should have felt bad for them, she supposed, but all the pity she had in her was now saved for herself. She had no sadness left to share, she realized, as he watched Fiyori break down. Her only thought, as the girl collapsed, was "oh, so that's what that looks like."
Fiyori seemed to have been keeping it together, but what did that mean? Anyone looking on would have thought Georgia Lee was together, too, and right now she was the least together she'd ever been. She was apart, thoughts and hopes and fears all floating around, separate, having no bearing on her body or what it was doing, because what was it doing? Sitting. Waiting.
She'd paced for a while. She'd thought about exercising, but food was limited and water even more so, and they needed more than anything to conserve both and so Georgia Lee had conserved herself. When had she last stood up? Hours ago, maybe; she'd been in this chair so long it almost felt like it was a part of her. Could that happen? Perhaps that was what happened, when everything that it meant to be alive was taken from someone, but their life wasn't. They just became a nonperson. An object. A piece of furniture.
She watched Fiyori, as one watches a mouse in a maze, waiting to see what it'll do. Perhaps she should have said something. Perhaps she should say something, now.
Georgia Lee said nothing.
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Fiyori Senay had, in the end, just been an observer. It was raining outside, and she would just stand at her window, and watch.
The truth be told, the rain had long intensified. It had become a torrent in the last few months. In the last few months leading up to graduation, and – she hoped back then – the end of her own life. The rain became stronger and stronger, but the window kept stable. Even when she woke up to Georgia Lee above her on Survival of the Fittest, the gales of wind were not enough to break the window. It started to shake and quiver, but she was still safe. She was still watching, unaffected by the outside.
Now it was broken, and it's shards burrowed deep into Fiyori.
Fiyori opened her eyes. She felt her own breath again. It was slow, but deep, and accompanied by the fast beat of her heart. Her hands rested on the floor, her hair dangling somewhere near. Fiyori halted for a few moments more, but then slowly dared to rise.
She could see the sky. She could see the window blockaded by the furniture. It was all so blurry, but not due to any tears, but her inherent lack of clear vision. She took her hands and put them against her temples, and then pressed. Pressed harder and harder, as if trying to crush her own skull.
Danny was dead. Abby was dead. They all were dying. She pressed harder, harder, harder still and when the bone in her head would not yield she grabbed onto her hair and pulled on it.
And suddenly, she let go.
"Georgia Lee. I have a favor to ask of you."
Whether Georgia Lee planned to win the game, or whether she planned to escape nonetheless. It was still a mystery. Fiyori did not know, how GLD truly imagined the future to be.
"If you happen to get the chance, please kill Isabel Ramirez."
She began laughing. Softly. She turned around, and tried to gauge Georgia Lee's reaction. Yet she laughed, louder now. Less tenderly.
"And in case that sounds unreasonable, don't worry – I'll try too."
The truth be told, the rain had long intensified. It had become a torrent in the last few months. In the last few months leading up to graduation, and – she hoped back then – the end of her own life. The rain became stronger and stronger, but the window kept stable. Even when she woke up to Georgia Lee above her on Survival of the Fittest, the gales of wind were not enough to break the window. It started to shake and quiver, but she was still safe. She was still watching, unaffected by the outside.
Now it was broken, and it's shards burrowed deep into Fiyori.
Fiyori opened her eyes. She felt her own breath again. It was slow, but deep, and accompanied by the fast beat of her heart. Her hands rested on the floor, her hair dangling somewhere near. Fiyori halted for a few moments more, but then slowly dared to rise.
She could see the sky. She could see the window blockaded by the furniture. It was all so blurry, but not due to any tears, but her inherent lack of clear vision. She took her hands and put them against her temples, and then pressed. Pressed harder and harder, as if trying to crush her own skull.
Danny was dead. Abby was dead. They all were dying. She pressed harder, harder, harder still and when the bone in her head would not yield she grabbed onto her hair and pulled on it.
And suddenly, she let go.
"Georgia Lee. I have a favor to ask of you."
Whether Georgia Lee planned to win the game, or whether she planned to escape nonetheless. It was still a mystery. Fiyori did not know, how GLD truly imagined the future to be.
"If you happen to get the chance, please kill Isabel Ramirez."
She began laughing. Softly. She turned around, and tried to gauge Georgia Lee's reaction. Yet she laughed, louder now. Less tenderly.
"And in case that sounds unreasonable, don't worry – I'll try too."
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
She stood, for lack of anything else to do, and walked to the table where they'd carved their lists of friends like God's commandments: these ones thou shalt not kill. Georgia Lee took up the scissor blade lying beside the naughty and the nice and drew it along Danny Brooks' name; not pressing, not gouging, just letting the blade bounce over the pitted furrows that Danny had made in the table.
Were there lists like these all over the island? Was she on any of them? Were they carved as well as hers was, the scratches as deep and the hand as clear, so that they might last here after they were gone? Georgia Lee pictured the hospital turning to dust, the wilderness of the island devouring what remained of the people who'd lived here and what they'd left. She pictured the ceiling caved in, light streaming through shattered beams and hanging panels and hanging wires carrying power from nowhere to nothing. The tables would still be here, probably: they were plastic, after all, and hadn't Al Gore said that would last a thousand years? She pictured someone finding them, wiping dust of and wondering about the names, about who these people had been and what lives they'd lead.
Not particularly interesting ones, if Georgia Lee was being honest. What had she done, really? She'd studied a lot, she'd played softball, she'd been kidnapped. She'd made friends and had thought those friendships meant something, but now those friends were dead and she was spending her time with someone she'd thought she hated, so how much had all that really been worth? She'd tried to be good. What had that gotten her?
Fiyori's question snapped her out of her reverie, and Georgia Lee turned to face the girl, putting the lists of the dying behind her for now.
"Favours are something you pay back, right Fiyori? Not sure I'm likely to get much in way of... return on this investment. You're kind of a risky bet, you know?" Fiyori was laughing, and Georgia Lee chuckled along with her, amused at herself. The bar for what was funny had been lowered, dramatically, over the course of the past few days.
It was clear, though, that Fiyori wouldn't settle for a joking dismissal. Murder was a serious business, after all, and it deserved a serious answer.
"But... sure," Georgia Lee lied, "If I happen to get the chance."
Were there lists like these all over the island? Was she on any of them? Were they carved as well as hers was, the scratches as deep and the hand as clear, so that they might last here after they were gone? Georgia Lee pictured the hospital turning to dust, the wilderness of the island devouring what remained of the people who'd lived here and what they'd left. She pictured the ceiling caved in, light streaming through shattered beams and hanging panels and hanging wires carrying power from nowhere to nothing. The tables would still be here, probably: they were plastic, after all, and hadn't Al Gore said that would last a thousand years? She pictured someone finding them, wiping dust of and wondering about the names, about who these people had been and what lives they'd lead.
Not particularly interesting ones, if Georgia Lee was being honest. What had she done, really? She'd studied a lot, she'd played softball, she'd been kidnapped. She'd made friends and had thought those friendships meant something, but now those friends were dead and she was spending her time with someone she'd thought she hated, so how much had all that really been worth? She'd tried to be good. What had that gotten her?
Fiyori's question snapped her out of her reverie, and Georgia Lee turned to face the girl, putting the lists of the dying behind her for now.
"Favours are something you pay back, right Fiyori? Not sure I'm likely to get much in way of... return on this investment. You're kind of a risky bet, you know?" Fiyori was laughing, and Georgia Lee chuckled along with her, amused at herself. The bar for what was funny had been lowered, dramatically, over the course of the past few days.
It was clear, though, that Fiyori wouldn't settle for a joking dismissal. Murder was a serious business, after all, and it deserved a serious answer.
"But... sure," Georgia Lee lied, "If I happen to get the chance."
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler frogue. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
Georgia Lee answered, and she laughed too. Fiyori would have called it a surprise, but after the third morning it wasn't. They were done. She was done. She too, and no matter how good they were holding it together, a small sense of madness has been born in the two of them.
Fiyori continued to laugh with her, until her tongue moved a bit in the wrong way, and until she bit into it. She didn't start bleeding, but it hurt and she stopped abruptly.
Georgia Lee had said 'okay sure', and Fiyori's mind was sharp enough yet to realize the meaning behind her words. It felt like a lie. Isabel Ramirez had killed three people. From GLD's perspective, Fiyori presumed, it would be better to keep as much distance as possible from her. It was understandable, but Firyoi had a different perspective. A different perspective, even if she didn't factor her rage over Danny's murder in. Three names, she counted three names. Isabel killed three people in two days. If - when push came to shove, and they encountered Isabel, together or alone, they would simply be no escape but violent retaliation.
Well, it was purely speculative. But a speculation Fiyori considered realistic, so she did not bother to share her thoughts.
"Still," she continued anyway. "our equipment sucks. We have a shovel, a lock-picking set. Our water's running out. We need to get out and find something better."
Fiyori stared into GLD's eyes. Glared hatefully, she noticed. It came to a small shock to her when she realized. The image of Fiyori herself pinning down Isabel, putting her on the ground and the image of Fiyori using a knife to carve out muscle after muscle, bone after bone, from Isabel's face slowly crept up and stared to dominate Fiyori's vision. She made a conscious effort to smile warmly again.
Fiyori continued to laugh with her, until her tongue moved a bit in the wrong way, and until she bit into it. She didn't start bleeding, but it hurt and she stopped abruptly.
Georgia Lee had said 'okay sure', and Fiyori's mind was sharp enough yet to realize the meaning behind her words. It felt like a lie. Isabel Ramirez had killed three people. From GLD's perspective, Fiyori presumed, it would be better to keep as much distance as possible from her. It was understandable, but Firyoi had a different perspective. A different perspective, even if she didn't factor her rage over Danny's murder in. Three names, she counted three names. Isabel killed three people in two days. If - when push came to shove, and they encountered Isabel, together or alone, they would simply be no escape but violent retaliation.
Well, it was purely speculative. But a speculation Fiyori considered realistic, so she did not bother to share her thoughts.
"Still," she continued anyway. "our equipment sucks. We have a shovel, a lock-picking set. Our water's running out. We need to get out and find something better."
Fiyori stared into GLD's eyes. Glared hatefully, she noticed. It came to a small shock to her when she realized. The image of Fiyori herself pinning down Isabel, putting her on the ground and the image of Fiyori using a knife to carve out muscle after muscle, bone after bone, from Isabel's face slowly crept up and stared to dominate Fiyori's vision. She made a conscious effort to smile warmly again.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
The water, it was true, was an issue. Georgia Lee at least had been rationing carefully - she hadn't monitored Fiyori's intake or thought it worth the headache to try and control the other girl's behaviour - but even so, there was barely more than half of it left. What's more, this was what she'd drank in here, doing nothing; should the start running about, sweating, what she had left probably wouldn't last much longer than a day.
There were the pots they'd been relieving themselves in, sitting rank in a corner, but it was hardly an inviting prospect. They would need to get water, and soon.
The equipment, though, was another thing. There was an expression she loved: "when all you have is a hammer, you see every problem as a nail". She had trouble understand how people acted, sometimes, and those words had more than once brought her clarity and comfort. Even with Fiyori, wheen she'd tortured her back at Cochise, Georgia Lee had been able to tell that to herself. The other girl acted like a psychotic nightmare because that was all she could do. It was nothing personal. She'd tried not to let it get to her.
When all you had was a shovel and a lockpick, you saw every problem as a hole, or a door. Fiyori, clearly, was talking about equipping themselves with something more lethal, and that bothered Georgia Lee. What do you see every problem as when you have a gun?
You see them as a target, and that might include a problem called Isabel Ramirez, whom Georgia Lee had absolutely no desire to risk her life hunting.
It might also include a problem called Georgia Lee, a voice in the back of her head reminded her. This girl wasn't her friend. She didn't have her best interests at heart. She was dangerous.
The last thing Georgia Lee wanted was a Fiyori with a gun.
"I'm, uhh... I'm not sure if I agree, Fiyor. Staying in one place, out of people's way: that'll keep us safer than any weapon, right? We've still enough water for a day, at least, and longer if it rains. Plus we have our... reserves, if things really get desperate."
Fiyori's eyes were the colour of army uniforms. Her skin was the hue of trampled mud, her hair of polished cannons. Georgia Lee cleared her throat, a little unsteady.
"I vote we stay put."
There were the pots they'd been relieving themselves in, sitting rank in a corner, but it was hardly an inviting prospect. They would need to get water, and soon.
The equipment, though, was another thing. There was an expression she loved: "when all you have is a hammer, you see every problem as a nail". She had trouble understand how people acted, sometimes, and those words had more than once brought her clarity and comfort. Even with Fiyori, wheen she'd tortured her back at Cochise, Georgia Lee had been able to tell that to herself. The other girl acted like a psychotic nightmare because that was all she could do. It was nothing personal. She'd tried not to let it get to her.
When all you had was a shovel and a lockpick, you saw every problem as a hole, or a door. Fiyori, clearly, was talking about equipping themselves with something more lethal, and that bothered Georgia Lee. What do you see every problem as when you have a gun?
You see them as a target, and that might include a problem called Isabel Ramirez, whom Georgia Lee had absolutely no desire to risk her life hunting.
It might also include a problem called Georgia Lee, a voice in the back of her head reminded her. This girl wasn't her friend. She didn't have her best interests at heart. She was dangerous.
The last thing Georgia Lee wanted was a Fiyori with a gun.
"I'm, uhh... I'm not sure if I agree, Fiyor. Staying in one place, out of people's way: that'll keep us safer than any weapon, right? We've still enough water for a day, at least, and longer if it rains. Plus we have our... reserves, if things really get desperate."
Fiyori's eyes were the colour of army uniforms. Her skin was the hue of trampled mud, her hair of polished cannons. Georgia Lee cleared her throat, a little unsteady.
"I vote we stay put."
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And for a moment, something snapped in Fiyori. Like a dry twig on her way to school. It was just there, and then she was just there. And then she got startled for a moment and then simply went her way.
No, that wasn't it. Something snapped in Fiyori and she could not ignore.
"Fuck my vote then, or what?" Fiyori barked at GLD. Her vote was truly fucked because what did it matter? Did her opinion matter at all anyway? It didn't, of course. Because she knew that, in the end, Fiyori did not matter. There was so much she wanted to do. So much she needed to. Danny was dead, and never coming back. Killed by fucking psycho and no matter how much Fiyori wanted to tear her to shreds she could not. She couldn't because she didn't have her glasses.
"I thought you were smarter than this." She approached her companion, but stopped a few inches before her face. Fuck, there was a tear in her face. "We can't stay put. We cannot afford to stay put."
Fiyori stared at Georgia Lee, but only for a short moment before she fixated on the barricaded door. She hurried towards it, patting the make-shift wall as she arrived.
"Just imagine, someone. Anyone!" Her heart's beat grew faster and faster. She spoke, but had trouble breathing. "Anyone barging in here with a real weapon. What the fuck are we going to do? Why, yes 'then we fight', but how?"
They were in danger of dehydrating. Fiyori was seeing little. GLD seemed to lose her spirits. They had a shovel and a set of lockpicks. Fiyori wanted to do anything to remedy this, and she could do nothing.
She remembered to breath. She was startled. She moved on.
"I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice."
No, that wasn't it. Something snapped in Fiyori and she could not ignore.
"Fuck my vote then, or what?" Fiyori barked at GLD. Her vote was truly fucked because what did it matter? Did her opinion matter at all anyway? It didn't, of course. Because she knew that, in the end, Fiyori did not matter. There was so much she wanted to do. So much she needed to. Danny was dead, and never coming back. Killed by fucking psycho and no matter how much Fiyori wanted to tear her to shreds she could not. She couldn't because she didn't have her glasses.
"I thought you were smarter than this." She approached her companion, but stopped a few inches before her face. Fuck, there was a tear in her face. "We can't stay put. We cannot afford to stay put."
Fiyori stared at Georgia Lee, but only for a short moment before she fixated on the barricaded door. She hurried towards it, patting the make-shift wall as she arrived.
"Just imagine, someone. Anyone!" Her heart's beat grew faster and faster. She spoke, but had trouble breathing. "Anyone barging in here with a real weapon. What the fuck are we going to do? Why, yes 'then we fight', but how?"
They were in danger of dehydrating. Fiyori was seeing little. GLD seemed to lose her spirits. They had a shovel and a set of lockpicks. Fiyori wanted to do anything to remedy this, and she could do nothing.
She remembered to breath. She was startled. She moved on.
"I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice."
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
"No, look, I'm right here Fiyori. Think about this..." she put her hand to the girls chest and pushed, opening space between their faces, the mantis maw drawing back from Georgia Lee.
"Our equipment's no good, right? But we have stuff we can hit people with, and that's... what? Ten thousand times more useful in here than it would be running around outside? We know where people will be coming from, we can stand close enough to the barricades that they can't get away from us, we're safer here Fiyori! You're worried about people coming here? There are already people out there! Everyone's out there!"
She paused, collected herself.
"Nobody's come here, not in three days. We've been quiet, we've been smart, we're safe here. We still have water, we haven't got hurt or pissed anyone off, we are safe, we're safe Fiyori?"
Her pitch rose, her words coming faster and faster and Georgia Lee found herself becoming more excitable, more anxious. She took a step backwards, turning away from Fiyori, letting the red fade from her eyes.
When she was herself again she turned back.
This was the wrong tack that she was taking, it was clear. Getting emotional, getting defensive: Fiyori would just see that as weakness, and the second she smelled blood Georgia Lee would be devoured. The thought of going outside terrified her, there was no denying that, and probably no hiding it from Fiyori either, not if the girl was half as observant now and she'd been back in Cochise.
Fiyori was a divining rod for weakness; she could find flaws better than any MRI, any stethoscope, any food critic. She'd see Georgia Lee's posturing as hollow in an instant, and any attempt to just force her compliance would no doubt result in her bridling.
Something else was needed, something different; and lacking alternatives Georgia Lee tried empathy.
"Look, I know how crazy you're going, trapped in here, listening to that..." she gestured vaguely in the direction of the speakers "...that... that man list of all our friends who've died. I know how it feels, like you could've stopped it, like you've let them down..."
She met Fiyori's eyes, searching desperately in them for any sign of what the girl was thinking, of how she might be feeling. The stormy seas in her irises were as opaque as ever. Georgia Lee took a step closer, putting a hand on the girl's upper arm.
"Listen to me, Fiyori. There is nothing you could have done. None of this is your fault. I know you want to be out there, be hunting down Isabel or protecting people or... anything, right? Anything at all, which'd be better than being trapped in here with me, I know, but we're safe here, Fiyori. We've tried something and it's worked, and it doesn't make sense to give up on it now. "
Georgia Lee broke their eye contact, but didn't stop talking.
"You can't just run around killing people, Fi. Everything Isabella's done will catch up to her eventually, you can't just... just do that kind of thing without consequences, okay?"
She let go of the girls arm, pulling away. Her thoughts were on consequences, and her eyes were on anything other than the table to which Fiyori's glasses were taped.
"Our equipment's no good, right? But we have stuff we can hit people with, and that's... what? Ten thousand times more useful in here than it would be running around outside? We know where people will be coming from, we can stand close enough to the barricades that they can't get away from us, we're safer here Fiyori! You're worried about people coming here? There are already people out there! Everyone's out there!"
She paused, collected herself.
"Nobody's come here, not in three days. We've been quiet, we've been smart, we're safe here. We still have water, we haven't got hurt or pissed anyone off, we are safe, we're safe Fiyori?"
Her pitch rose, her words coming faster and faster and Georgia Lee found herself becoming more excitable, more anxious. She took a step backwards, turning away from Fiyori, letting the red fade from her eyes.
When she was herself again she turned back.
This was the wrong tack that she was taking, it was clear. Getting emotional, getting defensive: Fiyori would just see that as weakness, and the second she smelled blood Georgia Lee would be devoured. The thought of going outside terrified her, there was no denying that, and probably no hiding it from Fiyori either, not if the girl was half as observant now and she'd been back in Cochise.
Fiyori was a divining rod for weakness; she could find flaws better than any MRI, any stethoscope, any food critic. She'd see Georgia Lee's posturing as hollow in an instant, and any attempt to just force her compliance would no doubt result in her bridling.
Something else was needed, something different; and lacking alternatives Georgia Lee tried empathy.
"Look, I know how crazy you're going, trapped in here, listening to that..." she gestured vaguely in the direction of the speakers "...that... that man list of all our friends who've died. I know how it feels, like you could've stopped it, like you've let them down..."
She met Fiyori's eyes, searching desperately in them for any sign of what the girl was thinking, of how she might be feeling. The stormy seas in her irises were as opaque as ever. Georgia Lee took a step closer, putting a hand on the girl's upper arm.
"Listen to me, Fiyori. There is nothing you could have done. None of this is your fault. I know you want to be out there, be hunting down Isabel or protecting people or... anything, right? Anything at all, which'd be better than being trapped in here with me, I know, but we're safe here, Fiyori. We've tried something and it's worked, and it doesn't make sense to give up on it now. "
Georgia Lee broke their eye contact, but didn't stop talking.
"You can't just run around killing people, Fi. Everything Isabella's done will catch up to her eventually, you can't just... just do that kind of thing without consequences, okay?"
She let go of the girls arm, pulling away. Her thoughts were on consequences, and her eyes were on anything other than the table to which Fiyori's glasses were taped.
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And as such, Fiyori was defeated. It was not the string of rational points and logical explanations. It was the simple gesture - the simple touch of Georgia Lee's hand on Fiyori's arm. It was the name she chose to call her - Fi. Danny used it, probably the most out of everyone. He used it, but now Georgia Lee called her 'Fi'.
Georgia Lee stepped back, and Fiyori did not know how to react. She stood, as if frozen, eye's locked on Georgia Lee's scalp just slightly below her.
She felt an urge. An urge to reach out on her own. To grasp Georgia Lee's arm and do something. She didn't know what she thought of, but she wanted to do something to caress the young woman in front of her. Fiyori thought better, and restrained herself. She would not show any affection, not like that, towards Georgia Lee. It was neither time nor place for it, and Fiyori could hardly imagine the girl appreciating it.
An uncertain smile appeared on her lips. It was kinda scary to think about it. Georgia Lee become surprisingly friendly, all things considered. And deep down, behind all the hunches and guesses, behind the suspicion and tactics, Fiyori found herself feeling some sort of genuine joy from Georgia Lee's existence.
Indeed, very scary. Fiyori thought, that if she had to describe it, she would have described her blossoming fondness as a flaw. As the fatal flaw. It was trusting someone as caustic as Georgia Lee that would break her, and Fiyori knew. And Fiyori could do nothing. Not anymore.
"...right. Right, of course. Still, we need plans."
Plans were good. They might just as well go to hell whenever they would be needed, but nonetheless it was true: planning is important.
"What will we do when we'll have to flee? You heard them, these danger zone. If we're not careful, this might get... well, dangerous."
Georgia Lee stepped back, and Fiyori did not know how to react. She stood, as if frozen, eye's locked on Georgia Lee's scalp just slightly below her.
She felt an urge. An urge to reach out on her own. To grasp Georgia Lee's arm and do something. She didn't know what she thought of, but she wanted to do something to caress the young woman in front of her. Fiyori thought better, and restrained herself. She would not show any affection, not like that, towards Georgia Lee. It was neither time nor place for it, and Fiyori could hardly imagine the girl appreciating it.
An uncertain smile appeared on her lips. It was kinda scary to think about it. Georgia Lee become surprisingly friendly, all things considered. And deep down, behind all the hunches and guesses, behind the suspicion and tactics, Fiyori found herself feeling some sort of genuine joy from Georgia Lee's existence.
Indeed, very scary. Fiyori thought, that if she had to describe it, she would have described her blossoming fondness as a flaw. As the fatal flaw. It was trusting someone as caustic as Georgia Lee that would break her, and Fiyori knew. And Fiyori could do nothing. Not anymore.
"...right. Right, of course. Still, we need plans."
Plans were good. They might just as well go to hell whenever they would be needed, but nonetheless it was true: planning is important.
"What will we do when we'll have to flee? You heard them, these danger zone. If we're not careful, this might get... well, dangerous."
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
She wasn't wrong.
As safe as this place was, it wouldn't be safe forever. There was a clock counting down the time they'd left, it's hands moving not with a "tick-tock" but a "drip, drip, drip" as their water supply dwindled, sip by sip. Eventually they would have to move, Georgia Lee couldn't see a way around it.
Still, the last thing she wanted was to dwell too much on the water issue. It had occurred very quickly to her that two days' water for two people was four days'n water for one person, and if she'd come to that conclusion she didn't imagine Fiyori was all that far behind. No, extensive discussion of the water issue was certainly not in their interest, but it also wouldn't do to not have some sort of plan for egress in place. They wouldn't be here forever, and the last thing Georgia Lee wanted was to be caught with their pants around their ankles, when the time to move finally came.
It was for this reason, then, that the mention of the danger-zones was a godsend.
"You're right," she said, and tried not to smile.
Giving Fiyori affirmations was a dangerous path to walk down. She needed above all for the girl to keep seeing her as useful and necessary, and if Georgia Lee was constantly pointing out all Fiyori's good plans, the other girl might very quickly come to the conclusion that she was capable of making it on her own. This was not a conclusion Georgia Lee wanted her reaching.
"We know what time we'll find out, right? It'll be pretty much first thing in the morning when they announce everyone who's... you know, who isn't here any more. We know it'll be pretty light, which means you won't be quite as blind, which is good. We know we're in the cafeteria, right? And we know that's in a zone with the library, just the two of them. That's a small area, so we know there isn't likely to be a whole lot of other people fleeing at the same time, don't we?"
Georgia Lee scratched at the nape of her neck with a nail bitten to nothing, pausing to let herself think.
"Look, I think we need to stay inside. It keeps us out of sight, it means everything's generally close enough that you can actually see it, and if we do run into anyone not-so-nice..." she gave a little shrug "...you know, they're gonna be within shovel-ing range."
These were thoughts that had been percolating in her brain for more than a day, now, but giving voice to them made them so much more real, so much more concrete. These weren't just hypotheticals anymore, no longer ifs and maybes and somedays - this was a plan. Here in their little castle it had been easy to pretend what was going on outside wasn't happening, that it wouldn't happen to them. It had been awful in here, of course, but Georgia Lee wasn't so naive as to think things couldn't be much, much worse without the protections that they'd put in place here.
"This has worked though, right? The barricades, I mean; they've kept us safe, right? If we have to... when we have to leave, we should do this again. The first room we find where the number of heavy things is greater than the number of doors, we shut ourselves in there and we stay put."
She concluded her plan with a nod, more confident than she really felt.
As safe as this place was, it wouldn't be safe forever. There was a clock counting down the time they'd left, it's hands moving not with a "tick-tock" but a "drip, drip, drip" as their water supply dwindled, sip by sip. Eventually they would have to move, Georgia Lee couldn't see a way around it.
Still, the last thing she wanted was to dwell too much on the water issue. It had occurred very quickly to her that two days' water for two people was four days'n water for one person, and if she'd come to that conclusion she didn't imagine Fiyori was all that far behind. No, extensive discussion of the water issue was certainly not in their interest, but it also wouldn't do to not have some sort of plan for egress in place. They wouldn't be here forever, and the last thing Georgia Lee wanted was to be caught with their pants around their ankles, when the time to move finally came.
It was for this reason, then, that the mention of the danger-zones was a godsend.
"You're right," she said, and tried not to smile.
Giving Fiyori affirmations was a dangerous path to walk down. She needed above all for the girl to keep seeing her as useful and necessary, and if Georgia Lee was constantly pointing out all Fiyori's good plans, the other girl might very quickly come to the conclusion that she was capable of making it on her own. This was not a conclusion Georgia Lee wanted her reaching.
"We know what time we'll find out, right? It'll be pretty much first thing in the morning when they announce everyone who's... you know, who isn't here any more. We know it'll be pretty light, which means you won't be quite as blind, which is good. We know we're in the cafeteria, right? And we know that's in a zone with the library, just the two of them. That's a small area, so we know there isn't likely to be a whole lot of other people fleeing at the same time, don't we?"
Georgia Lee scratched at the nape of her neck with a nail bitten to nothing, pausing to let herself think.
"Look, I think we need to stay inside. It keeps us out of sight, it means everything's generally close enough that you can actually see it, and if we do run into anyone not-so-nice..." she gave a little shrug "...you know, they're gonna be within shovel-ing range."
These were thoughts that had been percolating in her brain for more than a day, now, but giving voice to them made them so much more real, so much more concrete. These weren't just hypotheticals anymore, no longer ifs and maybes and somedays - this was a plan. Here in their little castle it had been easy to pretend what was going on outside wasn't happening, that it wouldn't happen to them. It had been awful in here, of course, but Georgia Lee wasn't so naive as to think things couldn't be much, much worse without the protections that they'd put in place here.
"This has worked though, right? The barricades, I mean; they've kept us safe, right? If we have to... when we have to leave, we should do this again. The first room we find where the number of heavy things is greater than the number of doors, we shut ourselves in there and we stay put."
She concluded her plan with a nod, more confident than she really felt.
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"You are right."
In hindsight, or perhaps had she been removed from the situation in any way, Fiyori would have revolted. Revolted to see how many times she had said those words. 'You are right'. She said them to Georgia Lee Day, and she said them so often. And often, she meant them. Even with the anger and the sheer hatred building up in her, Fiyori found herself agreeing with her.
And, Fiyori noticed, she wasn't even sure if she really did. Or if her voice just did what it was doing, and the rest of her followed suit.
Still, among all the emotions she felt. Among all the sensations she experienced, she could locate another feeling. No, actually it wasn't a feeling. Really, a mere motion of her body. A physical act. She could laugh, giggle, or chuckle. And she did so. After Georgia Lee's 'shovel' comment, Fiyori let out a light chuckle. She found it amusing, or perhaps she did not and just thought she did. She chuckled, though, and for some reason it made the insanity seem more normal. More acceptable, even if only for that moment.
Fiyori stopped. And when she did, she realized a little tidbit.
"So we'll stay together? Right? Yeah, you know... it's odd, but I am kinda glad about that. I've grown fond of ya."
She would have nearly said 'I wish it would have happened sooner'. But that would be a lie.
In hindsight, or perhaps had she been removed from the situation in any way, Fiyori would have revolted. Revolted to see how many times she had said those words. 'You are right'. She said them to Georgia Lee Day, and she said them so often. And often, she meant them. Even with the anger and the sheer hatred building up in her, Fiyori found herself agreeing with her.
And, Fiyori noticed, she wasn't even sure if she really did. Or if her voice just did what it was doing, and the rest of her followed suit.
Still, among all the emotions she felt. Among all the sensations she experienced, she could locate another feeling. No, actually it wasn't a feeling. Really, a mere motion of her body. A physical act. She could laugh, giggle, or chuckle. And she did so. After Georgia Lee's 'shovel' comment, Fiyori let out a light chuckle. She found it amusing, or perhaps she did not and just thought she did. She chuckled, though, and for some reason it made the insanity seem more normal. More acceptable, even if only for that moment.
Fiyori stopped. And when she did, she realized a little tidbit.
"So we'll stay together? Right? Yeah, you know... it's odd, but I am kinda glad about that. I've grown fond of ya."
She would have nearly said 'I wish it would have happened sooner'. But that would be a lie.
Gervais Frans Lambotte Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern
||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
Blue Jeans and Bloody Tears Martini-Henry Rifle MkIV Pattern||Selection|Clicks|Lonely|
((Olivia Fischer continues from I'd Say That I've Had Worse Days, but Then I'd Be Lying))
Even with her bags hugging her back, and her clothes covering her body, Olivia felt cold, naked as she walked down the hallway to the cafeteria. Maybe it was only the wet fabric seeping heat from her. Or maybe it was the fact that hairs stood on the back of her neck, and she had no one with her, and she would have no one with her to tell her that everything's OK, that no one, no classmate or 'friend' was watching, eyes scanning her, waiting to raise their weapon and end her in one strike. She had no one, and she would have no one. And, that wasn't fine, but it was her reality, and she had to adapt to it.
As she'd briskly walked away from Bernadette, from her sanctuary, she had noticed a map of the asylum, and among other rooms was a potential jackpot. The cafeteria.
She highly doubted she'd find mashed potatoes and gravy in there, or something like that, but vague half-facts about honey not spoiling, thoughts of water flittered in her mind as she walked towards the cafeteria, and with that, thoughts of returning to her room.
The doors were closed shut, she noted as she walked towards the room. She found it a bit odd, even though half the doors in the wards were shut as well. When she thought of abandoned buildings, she usually thought of the doors as being wide open, rooms exposing themselves to the elements and to any wanderers, foreigners wishing to explore. It felt like a nice passage, like something to write in her notepad, some middle line to a middle stanza to a poem she'd never get to write in her notepad, her confiscated notepad that had been exchanged with a lobotomy pick-
She closed her eyes, stopped right before the doors. Enough of that. She'd done enough worrying in her room. All she'd need to do is find some supplies in this cafeteria, and she'd be set.
And with a push, the door thudded.
Even with her bags hugging her back, and her clothes covering her body, Olivia felt cold, naked as she walked down the hallway to the cafeteria. Maybe it was only the wet fabric seeping heat from her. Or maybe it was the fact that hairs stood on the back of her neck, and she had no one with her, and she would have no one with her to tell her that everything's OK, that no one, no classmate or 'friend' was watching, eyes scanning her, waiting to raise their weapon and end her in one strike. She had no one, and she would have no one. And, that wasn't fine, but it was her reality, and she had to adapt to it.
As she'd briskly walked away from Bernadette, from her sanctuary, she had noticed a map of the asylum, and among other rooms was a potential jackpot. The cafeteria.
She highly doubted she'd find mashed potatoes and gravy in there, or something like that, but vague half-facts about honey not spoiling, thoughts of water flittered in her mind as she walked towards the cafeteria, and with that, thoughts of returning to her room.
The doors were closed shut, she noted as she walked towards the room. She found it a bit odd, even though half the doors in the wards were shut as well. When she thought of abandoned buildings, she usually thought of the doors as being wide open, rooms exposing themselves to the elements and to any wanderers, foreigners wishing to explore. It felt like a nice passage, like something to write in her notepad, some middle line to a middle stanza to a poem she'd never get to write in her notepad, her confiscated notepad that had been exchanged with a lobotomy pick-
She closed her eyes, stopped right before the doors. Enough of that. She'd done enough worrying in her room. All she'd need to do is find some supplies in this cafeteria, and she'd be set.
And with a push, the door thudded.
