"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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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
It all moved too fast.

She screamed when the shot fired through the room, bringing her hands to her mouth. She cried, too. She didn't know when that started, but she was crying. Tears were running down her face. Little shimmering rivulets, dripping onto her shoulders. Her whole body was trembling. She didn't know when that had started either.

She couldn't even remember when this fight had started. It seemed all-encompassing now.

Her hands were still, hovering, quivering, below her face, catching the droplets that fell off her face, when Clarice pressed the gun into her hands. Holding it against her chest, as if she was carrying a rolled up carpet, she felt Clarice begin to pull her away. Kizi disagreed. But this wasn't the time for that. She tried one token attempt at a protest, but it came out a mere sob, a choked yell of anguish. So instead, she held out one hand, and made sure to grab her bag as Clarice pulled her away.

Her eyes remained on Jennifer.

Closed the eyes when the shot rang out.

When she opened them, Jennifer would be calling them back. It'd be okay. Nancy would have been defeated.

((Kiziah Saraki continued Death Is The Only Freedom.))
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Kiziah Saraki
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If It Bleeds, It Leads · The Radio Tower