[She won't have to see the murder scene, at least. All of it that's visible from the hallway is the blood trail, smeared across the floor from the doorway to the spot, a few feet away, where Valjean's body rests.
He seems smaller now than he did only minutes ago. He's lying face-down, one arm pinned awkwardly beneath his torso and the other still stretched out as if reaching for the lobby. Naturally, he doesn't move when D-ne enters.]
It is nearing seven in the morning, and D-ne has to cover her mouth to keep the scream in her throat from slipping out.
He's coming for her. He's coming to punish her. Even death can't stop him, she's going to die-
D-ne watches the world blur again and hurries into the storage closet, collapsing to her knees just out of sight and catching her breath.
What did they say about that boy from school? Though he was split in two, his top half was reaching out, trailing blood, trying to find his legs...
She'll stay there like that for some time, one hand at her chest and one around the clean razor that she still has to hide. She'll remind herself why she did this, what's waiting for her, and how turning back is impossible. She'll remind herself she's known these people for a week and a half, and whatever happens to them when she gets out of here (because she just knows it can't be good, it won't be good)- she can't turn back. She'll dry her eyes and remove a box filled with blankets, and wrap the still-wet razor in them and place it back on the shelf. She'll take the cleaning supplies...and start to hear voices.
Ah. Well.
She'll wait until there's a crowd and then slip into it, like she was there the whole time.
At least she won't have to worry about her red eyes; no one will wonder why she's crying, when such a kind man has been brutally killed.]
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ahandorsomething2016-10-18 12:57 pm
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He seems smaller now than he did only minutes ago. He's lying face-down, one arm pinned awkwardly beneath his torso and the other still stretched out as if reaching for the lobby. Naturally, he doesn't move when D-ne enters.]
no subject
It is nearing seven in the morning, and D-ne has to cover her mouth to keep the scream in her throat from slipping out.
He's coming for her. He's coming to punish her. Even death can't stop him, she's going to die-
D-ne watches the world blur again and hurries into the storage closet, collapsing to her knees just out of sight and catching her breath.
What did they say about that boy from school? Though he was split in two, his top half was reaching out, trailing blood, trying to find his legs...
She'll stay there like that for some time, one hand at her chest and one around the clean razor that she still has to hide. She'll remind herself why she did this, what's waiting for her, and how turning back is impossible. She'll remind herself she's known these people for a week and a half, and whatever happens to them when she gets out of here (because she just knows it can't be good, it won't be good)- she can't turn back. She'll dry her eyes and remove a box filled with blankets, and wrap the still-wet razor in them and place it back on the shelf. She'll take the cleaning supplies...and start to hear voices.
Ah. Well.
She'll wait until there's a crowd and then slip into it, like she was there the whole time.
At least she won't have to worry about her red eyes; no one will wonder why she's crying, when such a kind man has been brutally killed.]