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Tormento Pabulum
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She pressed her back into the wall, trying in a fruitless endeavour to keep a small profile, as if it would do any good if someone burst through the door holding a weapon.

Will had just left the room, with a revolver of some kind, after telling her to stay silent and not to follow him. She prayed it wouldn't be the last time she saw him, disappearing through the door like that with a tool used to end lives, and probably with the intent to use it for its intended purpose. To murder another human being in cold blood, and be scarred for the rest of their life because of it. And she knew that if she wanted to make it out alive, she would need to kill too. Not that there was any chance of them both surviving, but she didn't want to dwell on that unfortunate fact of her situation any longer than she needed to.

Now all there was for her to do was wait. Wait for him to come back with blood on his hands. That is, if he returned at all. There was a very real possibility that whoever had caused enough noise for Will to go and investigate it could kill him, and then come after her seconds later. And then kill her, leaving her to die alone, and found later by some other student passing by who would ignore her as if a girl not even old enough to drink yet covering the floor of an office in an abandoned asylum with her own blood was normal. A trivial fact of life, a mundane part of their day where they would simply say something like "Shame," and then move on, being completely forgotten within minutes as they struggled with their own survival.

And so she collapsed against the wall, head hanging forward and arms drooping limply beside her. She didn't want to think about things like that. She didn't want to think about her own death. She didn't want to think about anything anymore. Didn't want to think. Didn't want to do anything, but stay there, still and unmoving.

Completely emotionless.
I'm still here, just lurking though for the most part.
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