Not a paranoid person by nature, Evan didn't think to put a cautious ear to dainty gift wrap to listen for the tell-tale tick, tick, tick of a bomb. From now on, she'd be more cautious.
Honey might have done herself the favor of putting a motion-sensing camera in the box of insects; the look of pure shock on the young girl's face as she peeled back the lid, the smitten smile turning to abject horror ... truly, a Kodak moment.
There wasn't much to do in a situation like this. Really, her eyes were closed for most of it, a garbled yell echoing the bare walls of her sparse apartment. "OH HOLY JESUS SHIT." ... don't judge. She'd been bug bombed, and she could spout whatever nonsense she wanted.
Pain stung across her face, eyes closed tight to keep the gnats from taking her sight. She'd flung herself back when Pandora's Box opened like a fucking nightmare, slamming into the wall and bringing the one thing she had hung up -- a small frame of her and her dad -- crashing to the ground. Hitting the floor, she crawled on hands and knees towards what she hoped was the front door, slamming her head into the kitchen cabinet before finally bumping the door. One hand blindly swung upward, pulling at the door knob until it swung open.
She spilled into the floor like a swollen train wreck, swatting at herself and rolling on the carpet like she was on fire. "Fuckfuckshitbitch!" She didn't use that language usually, but this was ... kind of a special circumstance. Her shirt came off in an instant, hands beating at the bites she couldn't see on her stomach and back. Fast-thinking, she stuffed the shirt at the seal of the door, keeping those buzzing bastards at bay.
When all was said and done, Evan leaned against the wall across from her door, her left eye swollen shut thanks to a bee sting just to the side of her laugh lines. The gnats' bites had left small welts here and there on her bare arms, a few on her face, with a few more bee's poisoned kisses on her right arm. Thankfully she had her cell phone with her, buried at the bottom of her bag. So shirtless, swelling, bleeding from small bites all across her usually flawless skin, Evan dug through her bag, half-delirious. Why couldn't she grasp the phone? With one tear-blurred eyed she removed her right hand, staring at what appeared to be a hoove. Blink once, twice, and third time? And it was gone. Just a shaking hand.