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Mr. Danya
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((Nate Turner continued from Paths of Glory))

The library wasn’t much better than the basement, with so many corpses strewn about the shelves. It was a truly macabre feeling, walking through a building filled with the uninterred dead, left to rot like trash on the streets.

Nate swallowed. No matter how many bodies he saw, he still felt the same. It was hard to put into words: some mix of fear and misery, but neither really took centre stage. Whatever it was, it was a feeling he'd rather he never had.

“Matt? You in here?” he called out for a third time, not particularly worried about who might be around the next corner, or what their intent might be. In the back of his mind he knew he should probably be a bit more careful, but that was where the thought stayed. Maybe he thought finding Matt was more important, or maybe he just didn’t particularly care if he was heard by someone with murderous thoughts.

He rounded another bookshelf, and met with another body. He was ready to turn away, until her blue hair caught his eye.


He ran to her, crouching down, putting a hand on her shoulder and asking if she was ok. That illusion fell fast though, as he remembered where he was, what he’d heard on the announcements, saw the decay eating away at her face, smelt the copper clung to the wounds on her stomach. For a moment, he might have seen his old friend, but now he just saw a corpse.

“Nancy…” he repeated, lip trembling. This was it: the first time he’d seen one of his friends' bodies, instead of just hearing the name. Those words on the announcements suddenly felt hollow by comparison, just empty words compared to the physical sight of someone you cared about dead and rotting.

He had to cover his mouth, scrunch his eyes to stop himself. He didn’t want to cry anymore, even now, but it was hard. Those good times hanging out in drama, gone forever and the proof was in front of him. It was so hard.

Amidst the trial of controlling his emotions, he continued to think, remembering what Nancy had done. He didn’t want to, he just wanted to grieve, but the truth was undeniable. He had to fight the urge to burst into tears because Nancy was his friend, but what about the friends of Nancy’s victims? He’d lost count of how many there were, but it was a lot.

He stayed where he was, looking her in the face. What else could he do?
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友達 · The Asylum Library