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The girl who dreams on the back of a giant space turtle.
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((Penelope Fitzgerald continued from Minus Something))

The group had ended up spending the rest of the day in the cafeteria, trying their best to clear their heads of the events of that morning.

The announcements came and went again, announcing more deaths, finally mentioning Kizi's status.

Penelope opened the door to the library across the hall from the cafeteria, glancing around at the dingy and dusty shelves, light filtering in from the windows facing the outside. The stench of death clung to the area like it did every other area in the asylum, and spatters of dried blood and footprints ruined the uniformity of the dust covering the floor.

"Hello?" She called out into the room, only to be greeted by silence.

"Seems like a welcoming enough place." She chirped, sarcastically. "But might as well stay here for a little while. It's still a library, after all, even if it's been..." She scrunched her nose. "...tainted."

She walked into the room, holding the door open for Raina and Johnny behind her, bits of ash that were still clinging to her skirt falling off and joining the dust on the floor.

Once the group was inside, she found herself instantly running her fingers across the spines of the books lining the shelves, a habit she picked up back when she regularly visited the library at Cochise. She glanced down the length of the hallways, frowning as she noticed the body lying in one of the corners of the room.

She moved further in. glancing up and down the shelves, almost forgetting that this wasn't a normal visit to the library. She recognized a lot of the books, many of them were older works of literature or medical journals she had seen in Kingman's public library. In a way it was comforting, knowing that even this far from home, there were still things that were oh so familiar to her.

She turned a corner, only to stop in her tracks and drop her bag to the ground.


She inched forward, getting closer to the body lying between the library shelves, dried blood caking the floor and the face of the deceased.

She slumped to the ground, knees hitting the wood and stirring dust into the air. Even through the obvious blunt force trauma to the face, she could tell who this body once belonged to.

It was Sam.
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Anemia · The Asylum Library