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Viewing Single Post From: Laisse tomber les filles
nope
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throw that pussy like i'm famous
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Rhory held herself tightly to the pane of a concave mirror as she listened to the two blurred reflections. She was the killer, they said. The killer? How fucking stupid could they be? Why would she, the big bad goddamn killer, stay with the bodies for what the decomposing Meat-mounds clearly showed was for at least a day, and then just start dragging them about? How did they come to that shitty conclusion? How did that make sense? But the last week had taught her sense was useless here. Would she have been graverobbing if things made sense, and doing an awful job of it at that? Would she have dragged a dead body through a funhouse just because she hadn’t wanted to see what she was doing? As she thought on that, she realized her own actions truly did not make any sense to her. None whatsoever. What had she been thinking? Maybe she was just a psycho, finally broken and twisted by the game. At least she wasn’t the kind of psycho who went on witch-hunts on a whim like Rocky Horror and his new sidekick out there. She briefly considered that this was karma for her pathetic attempt at desecration. She made a brief mental prayer to God and the Baby Jesus and Saint Jude (the only saint she could remember). She promised to stop groping dead cheerleaders, for good. She realized with a flash of frantic dismay as the figures in the reflection grew larger that her prayers would not be answered.

She made a less-than-graceful dash into a new section of the hall and clumsily threaded her way around the disorienting maze from there. There had to be another exit somewhere, a fire exit, or maybe she could out-maneuver her pursuers and loop back towards the entrance. Both seemed useless, especially with how slow she needed to go to keep her footsteps silent. Even then, her sneakers made the occasional awful squeak that caused her to wince and her breath to catch. She felt her heart volleying the inside of her chest and thought it a miracle that they couldn’t hear that. She nearly brained herself on a mirror she hadn’t quite noticed. She fought back tears of desperation and frustration as she turned another corner. Adrenaline had her every muscle panic-light and her whole body trembled whenever she stopped. She needed out. She needed out. Out. Out. Out. Where the fuck was the way ou-

She emptied out of the latest stretch of mirror and turned into the next and caught a brief glimpse of an indistinct figure scurrying past the closest junction. She stopped dead. Even her frantic thoughts withered instantly, as if she were afraid they would leak out into the tense silence and give her away. She slowly backed herself away from the direction the shadow had flown in. Step. Step. Toe to heel, being sure to keep the noisy rubber soles as quiet as possible. Step. Step. How much farther did she have to go to find an escape? She glanced over her shoulder. Step. Step. StCRRRRRACK.

Her heel met resistance and a fleshy pop erupted into the air. She fell sideways towards the obstacle and her left side met it with a sickly squelch. She brought up her right arm to claw herself up, but instead clenched at denim fabric that pulled away under her grasp. She turned and her eyes met a second pair of duller ones. She was elbow-deep in the pile of gore that was once pretty little Bayview cheerleader Evelyn Reed. She couldn’t quite suppress a scream.
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Laisse tomber les filles · Hall of Mirrors