Everything felt surreal and impossible, her arms covered in marks from where she had continually pinched herself to try and wake up from this nightmare. But nothing had changed. Trenton was still laying halfway out of her closet. He still wasn't breathing. He still had no pulse. He wasn't waking up and she was having an almost impossible time coming to terms with this. People didn't die. She had never lost anyone before. Ever, so there was no coping mechanism on how to handle this.
Dimly, she could recall posting to the forum, unable to think of what else to do. Someone had answered, Isobel couldn't remember who, but they had told her to stay there, stay there and sit, and that is exactly what she did. The knock at the door was not heard at first, but when it came again, sharp and smart, she looked up. Mechanically, she clamored to her feet, forcing herself to walk to open the door to whomever was knocking.
Why was someone there? Why were they knocking? Did something happen?
Pulling the door open, she looked up at Archer, her eyes wide and her skin pale as a sheet. Bright red marks peppered her arms and she was breathing shallowly, her arms limp at her side. There was no recognition in her gaze as she simply looked up at him.