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Mr. Danya
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Vanessa continued to stare fury at Vinny as they walked out the room with in their tranquil anger. She was grinding her teeth together, waiting for her insults to fly forth at Vinny, who’d just let Cams get murdered, as the hot tears ran down her face. Yet they didn’t come, and Vinny left.

Suddenly, she realised, that yelling at Vinny hadn’t changed a goddamn thing. “Wait.” She whispered, but they had already gone, and Vanessa was alone.

Why the fuck had she done that? She was standing there with her dead best friend in her arms, and all she’d done was yell at Cam’s other friend, and nothing good had come of it. All she’d done was force herself to deal with this alone, and something that hurt so bad already just felt even worse. God, she was the fucking retard after all.

She shut her eyes tight, shutting it all out, but still feeling Cam’s limp weight in her arms. She was so heavy; Vanessa wanted to put her down because her arms were starting to strain, but how could she? If she just put her down on the floor, let her go, she’d fall limp and that’d just be as much proof as anything that she really was fucking dead.

Except that she really was, and Vanessa couldn’t stand there looking at the door that Vinny had walked out of forever, no matter how much she wanted to not face what came next. Finally, reluctantly, she put Cams down, with all the gentle care she could muster. Of course, Cams still didn’t move.

She turned around, pressed her head against the wall, took her eyes off the body. She was sobbing, trying to get a hold of herself, failing. Her best friend was dead; this terrorist BS that had just seemed like a distant threat had come crashing down right in front of her, and she hadn’t even had a chance to do anything. She felt, more than anything, powerless and lost.

Finally, she left the storage closet. She’d done everything she could’ve for Cams, everything she had the strength to do, but it still felt like fuck all. She’d left her lying on the floor, hands over that awful hole in her stomach, as peaceful looking as anyone who’d been brutally murdered by their classmate could’ve. It felt pointless, hollow, and stupid, but she knew she had to do something.

She looked down at her wrist, Cameron’s Mastodon bandana now tied around her own arm. Maybe she should’ve left it with her friend, she thought, but she knew why she’d taken it. She had to have something, anything, just that little piece of her left. Even if she still had all the memories, something physical and real just helped, just a little bit.

She stared out into the hallway, looking so damn different from how it had looked when she'd come from the other end. She looked back down at her wrist.

It wasn’t enough.

((Vanessa Stone continued in Dark Necessities))
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