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Mr. Danya
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((Vanessa Stone continued from Shock Me))

She hadn’t slept much. Yesterday was kind of a blur, a day she’d rather forget but obviously could not, the proof of it still wrapped around her arm in the form of a colourful bandana. Her mind was swarming with memories: the fun times she’d had with her BFF that she thought would last forever, the bitter arguments that were so fucking stupid and pointless then and now just felt like they’d spat on what precious time the two of them had shared, the two weeks they hadn’t talked because of something as ridiculous as who was the frontwoman of the band. She felt guilty that she hadn’t been a better friend in the unpredictably too-short time they'd had.

Alessio Rigano. He was the one who’d killed Cams, that’s what the announcement had said, and he’d kept going since then. He was a fucking dead man, that had been decided before she even knew his name. The least she could do, she figured, was even the score.

Too bad she didn’t have a clue who Alessio Rigano was.

She was far from the asylum, and she preferred it that way. She’d rather never return, never have to risk going past that closet that had become a crypt. The place was already filling up with the ghosts of her dead classmates, she didn’t need to think about Cams haunting it too. Shit, Cams would probably get a kick out of that: floating around, scaring the crap out of anyone who had the bad luck to be walking down those empty hallways. She'd probably be in full makeup when she did it, too.

She chuckled, just a little, and then inevitably felt guilty. She dismissed it though; she wasn’t going to get caught up grieving, not when there were things to settle.

She’d been clutching her chair leg for a few hours now; the grisly nail sticking out of it was ready for action. It had just been a deterrent before, just a weird prop in her pretense of going along with the whole affair, never really carried with any knowledge of how it was going to be used. Now it knew its purpose, and now everything felt more real. It wasn’t going to go into the first person she saw, but it was certainly going to be shoved up someone’s ass before all this was over.

In her search for Alessio, Vanessa had entered the storehouse not long after Kaitlyn had opted not to do her business outside. She’d looked at the room full of crates and immediately felt uncomfortable. It was a subconscious feeling, but the place was far too reminiscent of the storage closet. Wanting to avoid the sight, she decided to check the corridors first, looking for a different view.

As she walked down the hallway, no longer running her hands along the wall or quietly humming to herself, she passed the janitor’s closet. She paused; she could’ve sworn she’d heard faint grunting coming from inside.

“Yo, someone in here?” she called out, hand already on the knob and opening the door, failing to heed anything from the last times she’d blindly walked into rooms.
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Dark Necessities · The Storehouse