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[hr][hr][center][color=a2d9ce]𝕄: 𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥. 𝟙𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟘   / /   𝕃𝕒 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕒, 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕   / /   𝕋𝕠𝕨𝕟   / /  ~𝟙𝟡𝟘𝟘[/color][/center][hr][hr]

The ride to the hospital flew by in relative silence. Callan took note of her fellow classmates: the injured and unconscious. She did her best not to stare too long at anyone. Siena, covered in blood and looking as exhausted as she felt, was among them, but it seemed Lily had healed her as well. The older girl named Angel had a face in tatters-- [i]what the hell happened to her?[/i] She didn't spend very long assessing everyone. Nobody seemed like they might die, though she certainly wasn't responsible for that bit of good news. 

No, the person she'd been responsible for was likely on her way to the belly of USARILN. Destined to be eaten by some gross mage-corpse eating monster. That was on her. The events that took place replayed in her head like the memory of a horrific movie. The camera always lingering too long on the lifeless honey-gold eyes of a girl she barely knew. She could've done this. She could've done that. Why? Why? [i]Why?[/i] Why hadn't she been more careful? Done things differently?

The tears threatened to well up again and she buried her face in her hands until the truck eventually came to a stop; everyone was carted into separate rooms. The two nurses that were tending to her seemed terrified, but Callan barely took notice. They rubbed at the blood on her cheek, checked her dilation, took her pulse, and examined the strange ring of blood around her elbow-- where her arm had detached and regrown. Eventually she was moved to a separate room, but she wasn't left alone for very long. 

They carted Christmas into the room and drew some blood. She found the sight disturbing, but, to her own chagrin, said nothing and averted her eyes. It wasn't until she realized they were having trouble getting the needle into her arm that she reacted at all. 

"[color=a2d9ce]Here,[/color]" she said, reaching towards the needle. She didn't want to be poked or prodded anymore. She wanted to be left alone. The nurse froze in fear as Callan's hand wrapped around hers, finally pushing the needle through the skin with the added pressure. She'd never had an aversion to needles or anything, but she concealed her uneasy feelings behind an irritated scowl-- one that did not go unnoticed by the pair of women as they quickened their pace. 

Alone at last, Callan laid back on the bed and stared up at the blurring ceiling. She wanted to be alone. She didn't want to be alone. But who cared what she wanted? That girl was dead! Because of her! 

She grit her teeth and covered her face, but the tears flowed freely beneath her hands. She dizziness and exhaustion that had once overwhelmed her was slowly receding, but her head simply wouldn't stop pounding. She could sense that Misery was itching to take advantage of her moment of weakness and she did her best to choke back the tears. [color=a2d9ce][i]Stop crying, stupid![/i][/color] she chastised herself further, sitting up and resting her forehead on her knees. Racked with guilt, she stayed that way, focusing on remaining in control as her tears ran dry and the Wisford fight repeated itself in her head. 

[i]A loud snap. Lifeless honey-gold eyes. A searing pain in her arm. 

A snap. Lifeless eyes. Searing pain. 

Snap. Eyes. Pain. [/i]