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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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It was done.

Isabel had stared at Tina as she struggled to breathe, to move, to make sense of what just happened to her. Isabel watched her writhe in her last moments before she stopped moving and died. Watching as the blood drained out of her and formed an ever expanding pool on the ground below her.

With Isabel's bullying, she never really felt bad for the people she mistreated, despite being told that she would feel bad if she just imagined herself in other people's shoes. But no matter what she did or how she thought about it, she couldn't do that. She couldn't put herself in other people's shoes. For a long time she wondered if something was wrong with her, if everyone else felt things one way and in some way, somehow, she was different. She just couldn't feel bad for others.

And that now she had committed a murder, she didn't feel bad about it either.

No, if anything, Isabel felt good. She felt powerful, and for a minute there she felt like she had real control over something important. Something that actually mattered. Agency over herself and others was such a strange and intoxicating feeling to her. She had felt it before, just a little bit, with her insults and rumor starting influencing other people's lives. But it didn't compare to how she felt right now. When it came to asserting influence over someone else, nothing comes close to being able to decide if they live or if they die.

...But even if she enjoyed herself, she didn't need to kill again. She didn't need more blood on her hands. She had the one kill she needed to make sure that she would get out alive if she was the last person left. She could just avoid everyone else now. No need to go overboard. No need to be a bad person.

Isabel remembered her hand and how it had been cut open by the same glass shard she used to kill Tina. The pain was returning now that the adrenaline from the situation was fading away. She reached into her own bag, pulling out an alcohol pad and some bandages. She hissed in pain as she applied the alcohol pad to the uneven laceration that went down the entire width of her hand, before wrapping it tightly in bandages. Good as new, probably.

Isabel turned to Tina's bag, now devoid of an owner. Opening it up and rifling through it, she tossed everything that could be useful into her own bag before finding a scarf nestled at the bottom. Despite Tina having terrible fashion sense, this scarf actually looked pretty good. Isabel liked it, the craftsmanship was fine. Probably made by one of Tina's relatives. She slung the scarf around her own neck and fastened it, before peering in one of the mirror shards. She looked pretty good in this scarf, definitely worth keeping. If she was going to survive, she was going to survive in style.

Isabel stood up, before remembering that Tina had a weapon, a real one. The thing she used to give Isabel that nasty hit to the head. She didn't really know what it was, but she knew that all the kids came with instructions for their weapons. She dug through Tina's bag once again to find the slip of paper explaining what it was and how it was used, reading it over as she positioned the man catcher between her back and her bag in a stable positio-

Isabel froze as she heard a noise coming from behind her. She turned her head around, only to see the motionless hallways and rooms staring back at her. She trudged towards the door that she heard the sound come from, before turning the doorknob and slowly opening it.

Isabel stood, motionless as she listened for more sounds and scanning the area she could see just inside the door.

After a couple seconds of listening, she decided she probably just heard something and shut the door behind her, turning back towards the site of her crime. The pool of blood around Tina's body had officially reached where her bag was resting and was starting to soak in. Isabel took another look at the grisly sight before turning down the hallway and leaving just the way she came in.

Dead to rights.

((Isabel Ramirez continued in By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you))
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