( KILL LOG - WEEK 3, MARTY )

[abhoth]

[The first thing Marty will notice is the fact that, for some reason or another, he's no longer where he fell asleep last night.

Or, perhaps that won't be the first thing to captivate his attention. Perhaps it'll be the mess of blood in the Lounge — grotesque messages written in blood and a coppery stench filling the air. There is a corpse nearby; Rachel is slumped over in her wheelchair, still and unmoving. In his hand is a knife.

This seems kind of unfortunate.]

Comments

[zombiearm]

[He thinks the sudden absence of anger and her words are meant to bait him into halting longer so she can figure out another tactic, so he keeps going. Even when she collapses, he doesn't stop moving. It's only when that sensation comes over him that he hesitates, a hand going to his head in surprise and horror.]

Oh, for fuck's sake— come on!

[He continues to take a few steps away, but they're more stumbling and uncertain.]

[perceptions]

i̸̶̫̻̲̘̳̪͖̲̯̻̥̯̫͚͈̣͔̬T̢̳̲̘̜̳͓̜̫͜ͅ'͔͔̝̻͉͇̀͘͝S̴̵̲̝̳̮͈͉̥͈̘͎̗̥͜͜ͅͅ ̴̢̨̫̳̠̜̬̼̺̯̦̞̕͢ͅŅ̸̛͙̫̻̬͍̦̳͍̗͜O̧̞̟͈͉͓̥̣͈̩̦͈̲̦̩͕͢͠͞ͅͅ ̵̴̧͉̥̹͈̜̦͍͓͙̖̫̬̣̗̩̗͕͘͡ͅĢ̧͓̠̪̮͙̦͙̠̦͕̗͈͝o̷̗̜͚̲͖̳̕͟͞O̵̳̬̱̼̖̫̖͓̕͜͝Ḑ̧͖̘̻̜͉̦͢͞
̨̭̹͚̬̯̙̲̦͓̙̹̬̥̼͈̻̥͠Í̸̭̪̺̪̼̘̱̜̥̱̲̭́'͏̲̟͚̯͙̤̦̠̦̳́͝ḿ̴͓̖̮͎̫̣̖̹̥̹̝̬̠̪̤̮̩̺͢ ̷̥̯̯͖́͜A̧̖̱̟̖̘̬͕͈͎͍̯͚̬̠͖͙͞ͅĻ̶̡̣̟̫̪̯̗͜͝r̵̙̦̲͉̮̱̙̲̭̖̦͘̕͠͞ͅE̳̗̘̰̘̮͈͍͠͝ą̸̵̞̰͇̟̯̝̖͘ͅD̡҉̢̩̺̫̙̗̦̩͍̥̻͚̙͓͉̼̜͉̮ͅY̴̡͖̟̲̬͕̰̼̖̫͉̟̺ ̴͏̶̡̣̝̣̦̺̣͈̗̠͍̥̥̣̱͟i̢̧͖̟̻͕̮̱͍̹̰̟̺̮̬̥͘ͅǹ̵̸̟̘̯͚̯͚̲͎̗̪ͅS͝͏̴̧̮̤̬̦̙̘́I̧̳͕̘̫̩̝̰͓͖͖̝͔͉̕͜D̸́͡͏̪̘̙̼͓̠̗̺̟͙͍̗͈̙̲̻ͅĘ̛͉̙̟̯̱̠̙͔͎͚̖̣͈̰̳̜̕͢͢ ̷̣̻̜̕ͅÝ̜͖̲̥̩̤̱͖̻̩̼̣̹̬͢͢Ǫ͏̸̵̟̠̯͕̝̼͓̤͉̫̳̫̘̩͍̙͡Ų̴̴̴̲̜̻͓̝̜̥̪͓̱̼̼̳̙



[That voice won't come from anywhere in the silent corridor though. It's coming from within his mind, as whatever just crawled in is working to overtake his consciousness, lulling him into darkness. He won't even get to be a standby passenger. No one can know what she has done, no one can be left to tell the tale.

After all... three can keep a secret if two are dead.]