Quoted By:
You’ve swallowed your fair share of tough pills as of late–being one of the more active survivors of that ‘<span class="mu-i">unfortunate wifi incident</span>’, the police practically made you their one-stop shop for all inquiries about missing people, and though you could only give a fraction of them an answer, it still floored you just how many citizens were lost in Boris’ dumbass power play.
But some of them hit closer to home than others–namely the conversation where you told Mitzi what Curt and Bea had told you during your final dance. She took it like you expected, of course: poorly, and who could blame her? Even knowing their killers had been brought to extradimensional justice, the scars still lingered, and when Mitzi disappeared from public view for about a month you couldn’t help but wonder if you did the right thing.
But here she is–still putting on a chipper face as your brother slowly drowns her in a freezing lake. It didn’t happen overnight, of course, and while you can’t speak for the tomboy, you can certainly sleep better now.
It’s because of this reasoning that after giving Heather a firm look in her eyes, you follow up with a solemn nod. Yes, you answer, you want to know. You <span class="mu-i">need</span> to.
“Okay…” she replies, face betraying that she’d rather you didn’t, “It was during the reception when everyone had given their speeches…”
Like a lightswitch being flicked on, you find yourself there once more with a mic in your hand standing at a table full of college-aged people you’ve never met. You stumble with the microphone, of course–that must be where you ‘<span class="mu-i">turned off</span>’. With all eyes on you, you brush the wrinkles off your slinky dress and give your brother and his new bride a warm smile as the guests quiet down to hear what you have to say…
>CONTD.
