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Grim Wolf
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The blade pried away, tearing a ragged line of pain against his shoulder. Lizzie's gasp crescendoed into another shriek as Isabel's foot ground into the wound again. She could feel the sodden blood-soaked weight of the shirt pressing against her sides. She was aware of everying: the tumorous emptiness of the wound in her should, the terrible waning pressure of the wound in her belly and the fissures of fire radiating out from where Isabel had hurt her, the way sweat and surf were making her hair stick to her forehead, how hard it was to breathe, how much her legs ached. She was lost in her body, lost in the flood of sensations, pain and weakness and exhaustion.

Until Isabel turned to run, grabbing at Lily's hand.

The foot hurt. Seeing her cousin hand-in-hand with that monster...that was worse.

She was wrong. She was so, so wrong. So, so stupid. She hadn't imagined...she hadn't believed...even when she'd fantasized about having Nancy's throat between her hands, she had wanted there to be a reason. She had wanted to know why.

And the answer was this: there were monsters in the world, and no amount of cleverness or bravery could make them stop. Monsters had to be killed, before they killed you.

She pressed her hands against her bloody stomach wound (even as her shoulder screamed in bloody protest against being moved). Tears filled her eyes, and she started sobbing.
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V6 Players

Tara Behzad: "They don't get to decide how I die."

Lizzie Luz: "I don't want to go."

Alex Tarquin: "No more masks."

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