inkonstage (inkonstage) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-08-08 12:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *journal, ella dean, marta flores, sam alexander |
[Sam A., Ella D.]
[She'd worked her shift, feeling a little under the weather, hard to smile at the customers while a nagging headache clung to the back of her neck. She'd come home. She'd walked into the house, and she'd frozen in the door for a long, painfully breathless moment before screaming. Her mind shorted out for a bit before she found herself fallen where she'd stood, a crumple of limbs just inside the front door, hands shoved hard against her mouth as she stared across the floor to where Seven was. Slumped to the side like he'd been kneeling and fallen that way, eyes open and fixed, a dark hole in the center of his forehead and red spreading across the clean floor behind him.
Her whole body shook as she tried to stop the high, scared sounds from escaping from her throat. Eyes wide, she couldn't look away from him as she scrambled back, out of the door, trying to pull it closed to block her view of him.
No. It couldn't be happening like this. It was supposed to be safe here with him. But... She pushed the door open again, just a crack, confirming what she'd seen. She made a sound like a dying animal at the sight of his open eyes, and scuttled away again, putting her back to the outer wall next to the door.
She was lost. She needed help. Phone or journal, and she finally chose one, her hand shaking so badly that her handwriting was nearly illegible.]
[Sam A.]
Someone shot him.
[Ella D.]
He's dead.