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Ciel
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"That’s not a prediction, that’s a spoiler.”
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
(Jasmine Reed continued from Helvetica Standard.)

She stood in the open doorway, relatively speaking. The door was rotten and it felt like a light breeze could slam it shut. She heard Nancy's voice from the other room. It carried an echo, and Jasmine recognized the voice almost immediately. What little

The first thing Jasmine Reed did when she left the library was vomit. She had not eaten all that much before then so her vomit burned, nothing but stomach acid. The second thing she did was curl up into a ball for a time, hands clutching her head, just trying to control herself. The adrenaline that had laced her veins before left her soon after. It was the same feeling she got when she went a few days without chugging a Monster, just, lax.

The day just flew past. Night turned to day. Jasmine could not recall what she did. Eating? No way. She wouldn't be able to keep anything down, not after what had happened. Guilt, fear, hate, all of it scarred Jasmine, made her numb to it. She didn't feel anything for most of the second day. She heard the announcements but it was all in one ear and out the other.

Jasmine didn't care what happened to her. Someone could have just walked up to her, pressed the muzzle to her temple and fired and she wouldn't have done anything to stop them.

That changed when she ran into Nancy Kyle in the Art Therapy room.

Jasmine did not announce her presence. The girl always had a nasty habit of sneaking up on people. She didn't stare at her like a long lost friend either. It would have been nice, certainly. Nancy Kyle had been her friend since she was a freshman. Part of her wanted to hug Nancy. That had been the plan, too.

But no. She could not abide by the blood. She could not abide by the shape Nancy was in. She could not abide by the fact that she remembered hearing Nancy's name on the announcements. Maybe if the circumstances were different, she could abide.

Jasmine stared at Nancy, a grave stare, eyes wide, lips pursed, brows knitted. The kind that shoots daggers at lightning speed. The kind that could not be father from comforting even if you tried.

Jasmine said nothing. The voice had a few choice words.

"Why is this a surprise to you Jazz? Nancy always had a few screws loose."

... Yeah. Well when you put it like that.
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血塗れ桜 · Art Therapy