Night 58: Medical Wing Hall
[from here]The front desk and the adjoining break room had been the extent of his knowledge from the night prior, so in this next section, Kratos did take the time to carefully observe the scenery. There were two paths that split off straight ahead and to his left, while to his right were a series of identical, plain doors. Somehow, that row
( Read more... )
Taura ran down the hall, instinct kicking in and keeping her footsteps silent as she raced towards the quietest, deepest corner. There, she leaned against the wall, breathing far harder than a short run should have required. She poked her shoulder with one of her artificial claws; pus ran out, foul smelling and fouler looking. She had to resist the temptation to lap at it, especially when she pressed harder and a bit of clean blood welled up through the infection.
She slid down to the floor, curling up in a little ball, with her arms crossed over her knees. Her nails -- her real, soft, human nails, dug into her arms, clinging desperately to anything she could feel. Pain. The cold of the floor. The slick edges of the tiles where she'd dripped on them. She needed to focus. No, not focus. Diffuse. Melt into the floor and disappear. Puddles didn't move, right? Puddles couldn't get up and rip their friends' heads off and suck out the juicy, juicy center. Unless the gravity cut out again, and then it was more of a floppy rain-ball in the middle of the hall. Not a betrayal. Never.
She didn't know how long she stayed like that, shivering and growing weaker, but every smidgen of exhaustion was a victory, even if she couldn't remember why. When the intercom cut in, she didn't hear it as words at all.
Reply
Leave a comment