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“Shit. Nah, I doubt an aspirin’s gonna make it any better. Just… just bandage me up, then. I’ll deal.”

Clarice paused here and there as the pain continued to thump in her shoulder. Thump. Thump. Thump. Similar to a heartbeat, only it didn’t feel in time with it. Because she knew, after that run—and also, well, being attacked with a fucking hatchet—that her heart was going way faster. Even so, it was starting to slow as they stayed here. Calming down again.

“Still. Two bags of supplies plus that halberd thing? Be a great workout routine if everything wasn’t—” Clarice cut off at a particularly bad ripple of pain, pressing her lips together and shutting her eyes as she tried not to make any noise.

The terrorists probably got off to kids in pain. It made as much sense as any reason for this sick game. She wasn’t giving them any more audio for them to loop in the background while jerking off, if she could help it.

Conrad eventually started speaking. Moving back to cautiousness. To ‘outlasting,’ even if he didn’t say that precise word. This time, Clarice didn’t immediately snap at him. She had to admit that the bell thing hadn’t… hadn’t really worked out. And she hadn’t even gotten to ring the damn thing.

But she’d probably not done any favours by grabbing Nancy like that. Fuck, in hindsight that was super aggressive.

“I… can deal with cautious,” Clarice said slowly, not looking at Conrad either. She frowned for a bit, staring at the padded walls, before looking back at him. “But what are we supposed to do? Hide in a hole and let everyone else die? Fuck that. I don’t want to leave this island alone.”
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By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you · Solitary Confinement