Just like before, Dahlia's voice cut through the panic in Quinn's head. As Dahlia gripped Quinn's hands, she let them be pulled away from her head, and the words that punched through her weeping ebbed, then died.

They stayed like that for some time before Quinn finally felt safe to start uncurling from her blanket, shifting back closer to Dahlia. The cloying smell of the water from home still clung to her and she [i]twitched[/i]. Her voice was barely there when she spoke. An exhausted mumble that would already be hard to hear, filtered through the horror and the crying.

"[color=FFE63D]It smells like water,[/color]" she forced out, arms clenching [i]tight[/i] under Dahlia's hands as she struggled to keep control. "[color=FFE63D]Not—not clear water. It smells like—like—[/color]"

Her shuddering breaths came more slowly as she focused on Dahlia instead of the wet stain on the wall. Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "[color=FFE63D]It smells the water from home.[/color]" She turned away so she didn't see the stain and the shards, and then a sudden pathetic mewling sound crawled from her mouth. 

The door was closed. 

Her breathing started to accelerate again and she couldn't breathe deep like Besca had showed her, she couldn't she couldn't—she couldn't calm down. Closed in with the water and the smell and—

She wrenched her arms back, hugging herself tight as her eye crushed closed. Her voice went from a hoarse whisper to a hoarse [i]shout,[/i] ragged and desperate:

[i]"[color=FFE63D]Open the door! Open the door, oh god, please, open it, open the door![/color]"[/i]