Marco (thatdarnoctopus) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2016-08-13 12:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 045, erran, juno, kate, marco, oliver, pam |
Who: Marco, Pam, Juno, Erran, Kate, Oliver
When: After this, around 8:45am
Where: 3rd Floor hallway
By the time Marco had gone to bed the night before, he knew that he may not have been in the best place mentally. He couldn't shake the feeling that people were going to use this to lock him up. It was a very clear outcome, in his head. They'd think that he snapped, and so he wouldn't kill again, they'd lock him up. It was simple. But he also kind of knew that that wasn't really how it would go, and this was just a delusion, triggered by stress. Probably. Hopefully. He said good night to Juno, took his pills, and went to bed, for a sleep interrupted by voices and something banging at his door.
Morning brought new problems, though, and as off as he still felt, he hoped that he could focus on helping Juno, and maybe all the shit going on in his head would calm down. The method that They had used to choose the people being punished had been stupid, and cruel, but the actual punishment had been crueler. He wanted to be there for his friend. She needed him, and he needed to be there to let her work through her anger. It was important to him.
That changed the moment he stepped out of his door. The door swung open, and tentacles limply swung towards him. "Oh, fuck," Marco cursed quietly, taking a step backwards into his room to avoid being grabbed. He stood there for a moment, hoping it would go away, but the octopus didn't move. Quickly, Marco realized that the octopus on his door wasn't moving. It was fixed to his door, with a knife. With wide eyes, he stepped closer to the thing, feeling sick as he realized that it was Hathaway, but he wasn't sure why Hathaway was on his door, and what the letters written above him were supposed to mean. He moved carefully around the thing, pulling the door shut as he slipped out of his room, but looking up at the thing the whole time in case... He wasn't sure what. In case something.
Finally, he took a step backwards, looking at the door and taking the missing piece of the puzzle, the rest of a word written across the wall in blood red paint. MURDERER. He'd stepped in paint on his way out, and it left footprints in the carpet as he continued to back away, until he hit the opposite wall. He slid down it, sitting on the floor and staring up at his label, suddenly feeling numb.
Yeah, so, they were really going to lock him up. That was real. And Marco, suddenly unsure of what the right reaction was, laughed.