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A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.
[ *  *  *  * ]
Brock was fast. So fast.
No Brock! Run.
The water bottle spinning away, bouncing away on the rocky ground, lost behind the pounding feet of Brock's oncoming form. The thumping of each footstep rhythmic in nature. Beating, thrumming. Sending reverberation through the ground, jolts passing through Sarah's body. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

She fumbled for the strap of the rifle, to pull it up. Too slow. She was moving too slow. She gripped down on the barrel, swinging it around. Far too slow. And then he was upon her, the force of the tackle knocking the girl from her feet, one hundred and ninety pounds crashing in to her at full tilt. A flash of pain, impact on the ground, her hand smacking against the rifle, more pain. She swung ineffectively with her left, contact but it seemed pitifully weak, barely enough for Brock to even notice in his fury. She cried out.

She could read, she didn't even know why she had to go. But if her parents said she needed to, then she would. The classes were sparse, less than ten students all together and Sarah knew every one. Must of them were fine really, maybe a little slower on the uptake than most, the segregation harmed more than helped. Some took it harder than others. Brock Mason was one of them. Every time he came to one of the classes it looked liked he had just been sentenced to prison. Sarah tried to keep a happy outlook, sure that the class would help and she had said so to B. rock a few times before, he'd just grunted in response. The boy seemed more focused on his sports anyway. He was kinda hot in a bad-boy kind of way, she knew his type though, not someone to push.
Yes. I remember. I can get out. I can get out!
She moved to hit him again. Contact once again. No effect once again. She tried to swing but Brook grasped her wrists with his powerful hands and pinned her down. He was roaring at her, something loud, she could see the spittle fly from his mouth. This was it, her dreams of a world changing film were ending, all thanks to one simple actor who decided to go a little of script. She couldn't even say anything, so winded was she from the force of the impact and one little thought spun round and around her head.
Save me Brock, make me remember
Where was Alice? Where was Alice?

His hand released her wrist, she shut her eyes and flinched, waiting for the impact that she knew was coming.
Sickness: Partially suicidal... very slightly because of my report, but mostly because Jason is dead. All of my personal issues stem from the fact that Jason Harris did not win SotF v4

William 'Woozie' Wu - "Hey Pheebs, you're amazing babe."

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Heartbeat Symphony · The Mine