>>6309669“T-Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Her voice is soft with an aged tone. “Bad day?”
“Fucking horrible.” You blow another cloud of black smoke into the air and she rubs your back.
“Want to talk about it? It helps to get everything off your chest sometimes.”
“Its just my dad- he keeps bugging me about some fucking modelling shit. It’s like he doesn’t care about anything else and I… No I-I shouldn’t hold you up with all this. I just need some time alone.”
“Very well.” She gives your back one last pat before standing up. “If you want my advice, from what little I know, talk to your father again when you’ve calmed down and try to see if you can get him to understand. But don’t partake in any modeling or things of that sort.”
“And why should I?”
“Because dads are stupid. There are some things that you really have to drill into their heads before they get it. And don’t take his job offers because it's hard to go far in that line of work.”
It takes a while for you to respond and the woman begins to take her leave but you muster out another sentence. “Yeah… I doubt I’d be able to handle it. But you, I'm sure you could make it.” She stops dead in her tracks and slowly turns around to face you.
“Why? Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Y-yeah. Who wouldn’t?”
She stares at you. Deep into your eyes. A yellow glow… A yellow glow starts to emit from her skin and she almost seems to fade. The memory starts to slow as the woman reaches for her face and the moment her hand makes contact with the mask.
Your eyes are forced open by the sound of the book crashing against the floor. Your breath is staggered and your throat has this prickly dry feeling, sweat covers your skin on the verge of rising to its surface. You stare at your hand, that was once holding the book, and watch it twitch and shake with a purple light slowly fading from your palm. It takes all your might to get your hand to move to your chest and your skin presses against a cold, plastic card blocking your fingers from your chest. You pull it off and stare down at your ID born from <span class="mu-s">fear</span>. You take a minute or two to compose yourself and then move towards the scanner. You don’t even look back at the book- you’d rather die than touch it again.
You go down a short corridor lit by lanterns on both walls and end up in a room akin to the one you were in before at least in terms of size. However, on the floor are four circles and unsurprisingly Vida is yelling at Ato who is holding a white-covered book over her head while Lilly attempts to mediate. They notice you, one after another, and the room falls silent.
>TIME TO DROP A COOL ONE LINER OR NOT | WRITE IN 