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((Blair Moore continued from Asymptote))

She could still see her victim's face.

The expression of fear, real or added in as time went on, was burned into Blair's brain every time she blinked or got distracted for even a second. She felt distant, separate from reality, like she wasn't in control of her body anymore. She walked zombielike, both her shoulders sore from sharing the weight of her bag, arms limp, lips slightly parted. She was dead too, in a way. A selfish way, because she still breathed and Jennifer didn't. But soon they'd have that in common. A small comfort, really.

She saw the buildings when she arrived, breathless, at the end of the bridge. She made her way to the doors with barely any consideration. Logic dictated people would flock to homier places, but Blair could not muster the energy to care. If there was a chair in there she'd-

Okay, no. She needed to avoid words like 'kill' or 'death' now. The implication of that phrase made her double over retching.

Her breathing was rattling by the time she got into the building. She wasn't having a flareup, not yet at least, but the fact that she was already at a disadvantage was only adding to her huge-ass pile of concerns. Even if she won, her days were numbered. That wasn't so bad by itself, she had therapy enough to get over it to an extent, but if she was the sole survivor it made everything seem a little les meaningful. Fantastic.

Damn, she wished she could go watch some Doctor now. Fuck it, while she was wishing just have the Doctor arrive here to save them and punch Danya in the face.

Immediately upon arrival, Blair looked down the main hallway and started to walk. She'd love a chance to find a place to rest, but knowing her luck the doors would all be locked. She wasn't exactly equipped to bust open a lock, so she might as well just explore for now, make sure the place was-

"Ahhh!" Blair screamed, stepping back as she rounded a corner into a smaller hallway to find a girl standing in front of an open door, with a blonde guy inside the door, barely visible from Blair's angle. She could definitely see the girl's sword, though. That didn't help.

Hands held in the air, Blair started to speak diplomatically, but before she got the chance to go beyond, 'I-" then she started coughing, painfully, her shitty lungs struggling with their usual coat of mucus. Wonderful.
V5: Cut Short

V6: Broken Down

V7: Unprepared
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Rolodex of Hate · The Staff Dormitories A Block