"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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((Lillian 'Lily' Caldwell continued from Rückenfigur.))

Lily was only a couple of rooms away.

She didn’t want to be here. Not so close to Tina. The unfortunate part was that Lily didn’t know where else to go. She thought about the rest of the asylum. Or the rest of the island.

But the girl who’d killed Tina was out there, and all Lily could be certain of was that she’d left the area after killing Tina. She’d ventured out, but every time she got further she started expecting to see the girl around every corner. And every new place was another place potentially filled with other students. Other players. She couldn’t have stumbled on the only one.

And the therapy rooms… they had the two-way glass. Furniture to at least temporarily block the door with. If someone tried to force their way in, Lily could break the glass. It’d likely hurt to climb through, but it left an alternate exit that someone wasn’t likely to enter through. It was honestly the closest she could think of to a safe place, and there was nothing here that’d be likely to draw people too close.

So Lily had slipped back in. She tried to pretend Tina wasn’t in one of these rooms. She’d entered the first one she found, which had been empty of bodies. Made sure she was on the right side, so that she could see through the mirror and whoever entered the other side couldn’t.

Reinforce the room. Block anyone out. Focus on the plan. As long as she thought about survival, and about reinforcing her circumstances, she didn’t have to think about Tina. She could just… pretend she’d never seen her.

It didn’t matter in the long-term, anyway. She repeated that to herself constantly. It didn’t matter. There would only be one student left at the end of all this. It didn’t matter how they died. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t.

With those thoughts in mind, Lily grabbed one of the chairs, with an intent to jam it under the door handle. She’d never tried it before, but she’d seen it done in the movies. She knew movies weren’t reliable in terms of reality, but what other lock did she have?

However, upon picking up the chair, she fumbled it slightly as the wood pressed against the bandages wrapping her palm. She managed to barely keep her grasp on it, but two legs of the chair hit the ground with a loud clacking that seemed to echo through the room.
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Would You Believe? This Isn't Me. · One-on-one Therapy