[center][b][h1][color=fff200]Siobhan[/color][/h1][/b][/center]
[h2][center]Location: Apex Designs[/center][/h2][hr][center][h3] Interaction: [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4675307]Joel[/url] [@Pilatus][/h3][/center][hr]Siobhan studied the oil. She hadn’t gotten very far up the stairs when she saw the oil. Intrigued she moved closer to study it. Someone’s art said a lot about them. Sometimes it’s the only representation of themselves that is present. 

She grinned at the subject of the painting. Racing cars. It was actually a very good rendition. The brush strokes evoked the motion of the race and the slight blur effect was reminiscent of a photo. The artist had probably copied off a photo. It leaned slightly toward impressionism but in a good way. It was all very Joel. The cars, the motion in the picture, the color palette and the style that wasn't quite real but had that whimsical feel to it. It just evoked the rush you got behind the wheel. She'd have to ask him if that was why he bought it.

Speaking of Joel where was he? And why did she feel like someone was watching her? Shaking off the creepy feelings that she had fought so hard to get past in therapy for years; Siobhan turned back toward the bedroom and saw something out the corner of her eye. She froze like a deer in headlights or a rabbit that senses a predator.

Gone were the recent weeks of training that she and Paige had been busy with. Back was that old familiar fear that had manifested itself after Genny’s attack. All the memories of the case came rushing back. The group of students who blamed her because it got out that the guy had mistaken Genny for her at the party. That it was supposed to be her that this tragedy happened to. That she should feel guilty about not being there for Genny and how she should have seen this coming. 

All those memories that kept her frozen to the spot devoid of the little color she had. Whiter than a sheet, eyes wide and shaking like a leaf in a strong breeze slowly Siobhan turned and letting out a small yelp at the sight of a motorcycle helmet. Her fight or flight response fully kicked into gear in that instant.

Not thinking clearly at this point too overwhelmed by fear she took off like a shot for the bedroom. It was a beautiful leap over the couch and dead sprint to the bedroom to put something between her and whoever that was. Slamming the door she looked for a lock.

No lock. And pitch dark. She knew she was in trouble then.