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Clarice thought, for a moment, Conrad was going to stab her. Maybe he did mean to. Fuck if she’d ever know, because Ty rendered the question moot.

At first, there was relief. Then relief became… a lot of things. Clarice watched with wide eyes, too surprised and shocked to really do anything about it, as Ty grabbed his arm and started to pull it back. Intent so obviously clear. It took a few moments for her to snap out of the shock, to do anything.

“Ty. Ty! He’s down!”

When Ty didn’t respond to her yell, she stopped shielding Harold—though she quickly made sure he had enough support on the wall—before making a beeline for the two. As she did, she heard a horrible crunching noise, and heard Conrad start screaming.

Clarice’s jaw tightened and her fists clenched briefly as she kept heading towards them. She tried not to look at Conrad. Revulsion seethed in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if it was for what Conrad had done, or what Ty had just done. But either way, she didn’t want to look at Conrad right now. Didn’t want to think about their better times. Didn’t want to think about the part of her that heard the sound and thought ‘good.’

But if Ty kept going how he was going—

“Ty!” That time, Clarice grabbed Ty’s shoulder and tried to yank him back as hard as she could manage. “He’s done, alright?! You gotta stop!”
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By the time you hear the next pop, the funk shall be within you · Solitary Confinement