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End of the Line; Dead girl walkin' (Private)
Topic Started: Feb 6 2017, 03:10 PM (831 Views)
Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
((Astrid Tate continued from Collateral Damage))

Astrid was in some serious pain and it didn’t look like it was going to let up any time soon. She sent daggers shooting through her skull whenever she turned her head, and the wound in her stomach was playing a cruel joke on her, constantly fading away so she felt like it had finally passed before springing up sharply again whenever she was least expecting it. She had bled through the bandages on her hand, although thankfully the flow of blood seemed to have stemmed somewhat. She had also, however, been forced to change the bandages around her waist, and that had been an incredibly unpleasant endeavour. It was bad enough, gingerly removing and reapplying wraps around her injured hand, but trying to deal with her stomach wound one-handed was an almost Sisyphean task. Every few steps sent a new jolt of pain from some part of her body.

And yet, despite all this, she was happy.

Because Darius van Dyke, the worthless waste of space who’d half blinded her and spent the majority of his days with his head up his ass and stealing other people’s precious oxygen, was dead. The only downside was that his killer was also an egotistical, boring little shit. She’d have quite happily shook their hand otherwise.

No dawn on the island came without darkness, of course. Toby had been killed, by yet another moronic self-centred jackass, and Astrid felt the same pang of regret and loneliness as she had when she’d first heard Mabes’ name, maybe even worse this time around. From the sounds of it, Toby didn’t go out quietly, and she definitely didn’t get a death befitting of her. Astrid liked the girl. She wished she’d been able to talk with her more often at school.

Still, the pain in her heart was absolutely alleviated by Darius van Dickhead’s timely demise.

Was it callous and more than a little heartless? Maybe. Did Astrid give two shits? Not in the goddamn slightest. If she hadn’t been in too much pain to do so, there would have been a spring in her step.

As it was, Astrid was just glad to see the buildings of the staff social area coming into view. She’d ended up trekking the entire length of the island in the past couple of days, getting only a few scant hours of sleep. She hadn’t wanted to set foot into the asylum again, not just yet, but she’d been forced to when exhaustion had threatened to send her sprawling onto the ground, the easiest target that any would-be player could ask for. She had passed out in a small room close to the entrance, piling broken chairs and tables against the door to make sure no-one disturbed her. Then, when she had woken up, she had headed for the other side of the island.

It struck Astrid, as her feet traipsed along the path, buildings surrounding her, that she had never been in this area until now. Maybe that had been a mistake, spending so much time in the asylum as opposed to here. There was a potential gold mine of supplies and hiding spots here. Both very attractive options, to be sure.

And definitely attractive for any prospective easy-outs.

Astrid headed into the gym, the largest of the three buildings around her. It didn’t really matter which one she started off at. What mattered was what she found inside it. And what she found inside the gym was, well… darkness. She squinted into the gloom and it still took a few more seconds for her eyes to adjust, and the tiny dust-coated windows to give her vision. She took a few more cautious steps into the centre of the room, pickaxe at the ready, and slowly looked around.

Part of her hoped there was nobody here, just so she could have a little bit of time to properly rest and recuperate and make sure her wounds were healing. Part of her hoped there was someone else in as bad a state as she was, just so she could get this over and done with as soon as possible.
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Astrid didn’t scare easily, but this place was kinda giving her the creeps, in a way the asylum never managed to do. The darkness didn’t help, of course, but that issue was steadily lessening thanks to the scant amount of light streaming in and her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the gloom. No, what was really getting to her was how familiar this gym was, and yet everywhere she looked, there was something… different, something unusual.

There were the usual sets of weights and mats placed around the room that she saw whenever she hit the gym back at Kingman, but then there were other things that tainted the whole image. Exercise machines that looked like they had been installed at least fifty years ago, benches with ripped and faded covers, and a wooden floor that creaked with every other step, all of which were coated in a fine layer of dust. It was like she’d managed to step into some bizarre hybrid of the past and present. It just felt wholly uncanny.

It was also completely lacking in other people; at least, the main area of the gym was. There was an opening in the left side wall that led off somewhere, most likely to the changing rooms. Astrid took a few steps towards it, peering into the gloom, floorboards creaking as she did. It was no good. She couldn’t see more than a foot or two into the room beyond. Astrid sighed, a little louder than she intended, as she weighed up her options.

She could easily turn and leave right now, and go to investigate one of the other buildings. It would make much more sense than just charging blindly into a dark room. On the other hand, there could easily be someone hiding out in the dark, praying nobody would find them. It wasn’t as though it was going to get less dark as the day went on either, after all.

Besides, she didn’t have to charge blindly anywhere. She still had her supplies with her, which she was sure was more than some incompetent souls could say.

In the end, the choice was obvious. Astrid gently lowered the axe from her shoulder, balancing it against her leg. Despite her best efforts, the head still made a solid clunk noise upon impact. She froze momentarily as it did so, opened her bag, and started rummaging through it for her flashlight.
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Poe’s law was in full force; it took nearly a full minute of muffled cursing and fumbling through her bag for Astrid to find the flashlight, nestled right at the bottom, half buried in a spare hoody. She breathed through her teeth, suppressing the urge to gasp in pain as she picked it up with her right hand; it stung, pressed against her wound, but it was preferable to holding the pickaxe. With some effort, now that both her hands were preoccupied, she zipped the bag shut, then pointed the flashlight at the entrance and flicked it on.

A beam of light cut through the entire room, illuminating only the blank grey face of the lockers and the edges of benches. Astrid swept the flashlight in a wide arc, pointing the beam into every nook and cranny she could reach from where she was standing, but the only thing it lit up was more of the same; lockers, benches and gently floating dust. Of course things could never be easy. Of course she couldn’t catch someone defenceless and already injured, cowering in front of her. Astrid rolled her eyes to the ceiling, and began to walk forwards.

Every time the floorboards creaked underfoot, she felt her heart freeze, but she was inside the locker room now, and she hadn’t heard anything but that, her steady breathing, and shockingly loud sound of her own heartbeat. There were still plenty of places for people to hide though; two corners on either side of the entrance, space behind the lockers and under the benches, and in the shadowy corners her flashlight beam hadn’t managed to reach. Astrid paused for just a moment to collect herself and decide where to start searching.

Then suddenly there was movement and there was a second set of footsteps, faster than her own and growing closer, and Astrid only had enough time to swing the flashlight towards her hidden assailant before they swung at her, catching herself in the face, sending the flashlight spinning out of her grasp, pickaxe following suit as she staggered backwards, screeching in pain, her now free hand clutching her face.

It hurt, God, it hurt so fucking bad, but she didn’t have time to focus on that. There was someone out for blood in this room with her, her blood, and Astrid was going to teach them the error of their ways. She was gonna find her pickaxe and she was gonna beat them to a bloody pulp. Astrid pulled her hand away from her face and-

She couldn’t see.

Oh God, she couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t see the dim light from the entrance and she couldn’t see the beam of light from the flashlight on the floor and she couldn’t even see the faint outlines of the objects in the room and she could feel blood flow down her face and run down to her chin and drip to the floor and

“Oh God, oh God, no, no no no no, no, please, God, no…”

Astrid screamed, stumbling backwards, back pressed against the locker room wall, throat tightening, pained cries escaping her mouth.

No tears could fall. Just the steady splattering of blood.
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
There were footsteps all around her, footsteps and mumbled voices seemingly from every direction at once, only just audible above her heavy breathing that wouldn’t stop turning into cries of terror and pain. Her head was still scanning the room wildly as if it would do any good, thanks to some unknown animal instinct or something.

She was dead. She was seconds away from death and there was nothing in this moment, nothing, after everything she’d built herself up to be and after everything she’d said, that could stop it from happening. She was trapped in a room with a murderer she couldn’t even see, and she was utterly, hopelessly powerless. Her killer was going to step forwards, and then she would draw whatever weapon she had, and then-

And then…

And then she heard what her murderer had said, and she was sure her entire body had turned to ice in that moment. ‘Sorry.’ There was no doubt the voice had said that, that voice familiar only thanks to the virtue that it belonged to someone she had walked past and sat in classes with every day without ever talking with them. ‘Sorry.’ Not in the sense that she was sorry she had to do this. ‘Sorry’ in the sense that she was truly apologetic for what had just happened.

An accident.

“Sorry?” Astrid breathed, trying to focus on where the voice had come from.

An accident. She was as good as dead, and it was all thanks to an accident. She had worked herself to the bone after she had lost the sight in her right eye, pulled herself up from the dregs of worthlessness and a blank slate, she had the highest of dreams that she knew she was going to achieve, and this was how it all came to a shuddering halt.

Suddenly, she was screaming again, solely from pure, primal anger this time.

“You’re fucking sorry? Where are you? Get over here, you worthless fuck! Where are you?”

Astrid placed her hand flat against the wall, trying to find leverage, trying to stagger herself upright.

“After everything I’ve done, everything I’ve torn down and built up, after going through fucking hell, some useless fucking nobody comes along and doesn’t even have the heart to finish me off?”

She could feel blood in her mouth, dripping down from her face as she spoke, and she spat out, hoping she managed to hit the girl in front of her.

“Go on then. Fucking end this, you fucking coward! Just kill me already!”
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Waiting.

Astrid waited.

She waited for the sound of footsteps that would signify her death. She waited, all senses but one going into overdrive. She could smell the too-familiar scent of copper as it continued to drip down her face, could still taste it in her mouth from before, bad enough to make her feel like vomiting. The cool metal of whatever she was pressed against was chilling her skin to the bone. And her face, oh God, her face was pure agony, like something was drilling into her skull.

But all she could hear was her own laboured breathing and punctuated cries of pain. No footsteps. No sign of the other girl. She yelled out again.

“Where are you?”

More than a minute passed and nothing happened. Why hadn’t her murderer done anything? What better opportunity would she have to put her name down on the board? They were faced with a girl without sight, without any way of defending herself, waiting to be put out of her goddamn misery. What was going on?

A possibility that shook her to the core struck Astrid. Maybe that was the point. Maybe this murderer was too much of a goddamn coward to actually finish her off, and instead was going to leave her to an even worse fate. Maybe this murderer was banking on the hopes that Astrid would just give up hope, eventually, and lie down to die. It would be very handy, causing the death of another classmate without getting the finishing blow and your name called out for the entire world to know.

Whoever this would-be murderer was, they had severely underestimated Astrid.

She wasn’t able to stand up straight, pain coursing through her body, but she groped around in the darkness with her left arm, searching for the wall, until she could feel the dusty tile against her fingertips, and she pressed her palm firmly against it. She was still for several moments. Then she moved one foot forwards. Then another, hand still firmly against the wall for support. With agonising slowness, Astrid shuffled forwards. Her foot caught on something, and she stumbled, almost pitching forwards, somehow staying on her feet. She kicked out, and she heard the object shift, but not by much. The pickaxe. That must be what it was. This weapon that had done more harm than good for her. She didn’t need it any more. She left it behind as she staggered forwards, almost falling again as she reached a corner. Her plan to kill wasn’t an option anymore, but that hardly mattered right now

Astrid had been given an opportunity and she wasn’t going to let this slip.
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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Pippin
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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
[ *  *  *  *  *  * ]
She was going to make it.

Every step felt like it took an eternity to take, and every movement sent pure pain shooting through every inch of her body, but she was going to make it. Sweat glistened against her palms as she clutched to the wall for dear life, following it along, following it to the locker room’s exit. She had no idea how much farther she had to go, but she was going to do it. The scuffing of footsteps, the strangled breathing, and the constant splattering of blood served as her metronomes, occasionally synchronising up, before shifting back to beat their own times again.

She stumbled as she shuffled over the threshold signifying the switch from tiles to wooden floorboards, and this time, with no wall to keep her steady, she collapsed to her knees, hands slamming heavily into the floor. She swore, punched her left fist against the wood, and breathed. In, out, in, out. Then she got to her feet, the weight of her bag nearly pulling her down again. The exit to the gym proper was at a right angle to the entrance to the changing rooms. She just had to head that way. Just a straight line between here and a chance to start again. Astrid shuffled her feet, pointing herself in the right direction, and started walking again.

An eternity passed. She was lightheaded from pain and all the blood she’d lost over the past few days. She stumbled face first into the gym’s door, and swore again. She leaned wearily against it, one hand fumbling around her face to gingerly touch her nose.

None of that mattered. She had made it. She had made it to the exit.

She could hear something from outside. The chittering of birds. Just a few feet away.

She was going to open this door and she was going to find somewhere safe to rest.

She was going to stay there until she had no other choice and then she would move heaven and earth to get somewhere else.

She was going to get off this island.

She was going to live.

She was

G034, Astrid Tate - DECEASED
V7 BAYBEE

FOLDER OF DESTINY

"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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