[Ryder flinches back and kicks at the floor of the shed to push herself further against the shelf, making it creak and rattle the random pieces of shit scattered across it -- some tools and nails, some net made of wire, something she thinks is a hummingbird feeder, and any number of other things abandoned to time. Her right hand, smeared with bright blood and grime, and continuing to bleed from two stumps, is hugged close like she would be on her way to hiding it somehow if it wasn't attached to her. Both legs are scratched where they're exposed past her athleisure capris, but her right one also bears gashes where teeth have dug in before being forced away. Definitely not her best look.]
Don't -- [She has to speak, even if it comes out more like a squeaky, distressed whisper. He wasn't listening, and he says she won't hurt him, which means -- ] Please d-don't kill -- me.
[A silly plea when was already going to die, but...she had time left. She still had time left, even though it was too late.]
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Don't -- [She has to speak, even if it comes out more like a squeaky, distressed whisper. He wasn't listening, and he says she won't hurt him, which means -- ] Please d-don't kill -- me.
[A silly plea when was already going to die, but...she had time left. She still had time left, even though it was too late.]