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Beep Beep
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Blair Moore continued from Takasago))

Sleeping in a creepy asylum had been a wonderfully awful experience, but waking up to announcements that day had made it worse somehow.

Caedyn had been killed, by that suspicious girl Fiyori, and even Alba had killed that Emma girl (though Emma had killed someone the same day herself). It was all very elaborate and Blair wouldn’t care about any of it if it wasn’t for Caedyn.

So, why did she feel disappointed that Caedyn died? The thought had occurred to her only as she found herself near the storage closet door. Caedyn was, objectively, a horrible person; she’d even killed again that same day. Cass Prince was a nobody to Blair, but they hadn’t killed or anything. Caedyn was definitely the aggressor. But all that meant that it was good she was dead, no matter who did the deed.

Blair kept finding herself picturing Caedyn’s stupid dreadlocks and her smug face. And all this time, ever since seeing her in the library with Rene, it had felt like she was going to shoot that bitch. It was a fairytale, a shitty Young Adult novel, where the alpha bitch got taken down by the spunky heroine. She really should have known better, of course.

Whatever. She’d outlived that skank, and now there were only a few people left. Judging from Danya, this was nearly the end. Probably only a dozen or less people alive, and Blair could hear at least two of them in the ‘closet’.

The door had been an obstacle, since she didn’t want to make noise for obvious reasons. Luckily the two seemed to be talking and/or crying, and she wasn’t sure they noticed. Her breathing was slow, controlled, silent. She moved very, very slowly, making sure to keep a close eye on each corner.

There. Around the doorway. She spied two people, either embracing or close to it. The back of one was turned to her; she tried to remember which guys were left. This one didn’t look like Jae, and the only other in her memory was Matt, who had just won an award.

She’d been intent on killing in the interview rooms, but had been outnumbered, flanked by inattention. She had her back to a box now, and the boys were still in range. The one facing her was too short to identify facially, but that clued her in by itself. Nate Turner was a tiny, timid kid, and that he was still alive was pretty impressive for him. She had no idea if shooting Matt would hit or kill Nate. It felt cruel, the idea that she could take two birds with one stone. Nate hadn’t done anything to anyone here.

Fuck it, none of them deserved this. Everyone knew that from Day 1. If it wasn’t her, it would be someone else. Maybe she’d be doing him a favor, if it was quick. Blair raised the machine pistol in her hand, steadied it with her other hand, and held it against her shoulder for good measure.

The recoil was strong, but she was prepared enough for it that she didn’t hurt herself. The spray of blood in front of her confirmed her ability to hit a still target only a few yards away.

She didn’t want to stick around and see the aftermath, and if either person survived she was even less interested in dawdling. Blair oriented herself in a brief moment, dashing back the way she came and slamming the storage closet’s door behind her. She took a moment to catch her breath, easing her lungs into normal function, and began to walk off. She’d need to find a place to reload and regroup. No time to rest on her ill-achieved victory. A tiny blossoming of pride filled her chest, which immediately wilted but did not truly die in spite of the overcasting of criticism and doubt inside.

Blair wanted to live, it was that simple. With nothing to rely on but herself, she was going to do anything it took.

((Blair Moore continued in A History of Bad Decisions))
V5: Cut Short

V6: Broken Down

V7: Unprepared
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