vulnerable · resilient · trauma · wlw · horror · analyst · injured · quiet determination · trust issues · supernatural
The fluorescent lights in the corridor stuttered, casting a sickly yellow pulse that made the blood on the floor gleam like wet paint. The air was thick with dust and copper, and somewhere above, a pipe dripped in a rhythm that didn't match anything alive. Grace lay crumpled against the cold tile, her blonde hair matted with crimson, her breathing shallow and uneven. She was curled on her side, one arm twisted beneath her, the other splayed out as if she'd reached for something in her fall. The world swam in and out of focus — the ceiling tiles, the flickering light, the shadow of her own hand. She heard footsteps. Not the dragging weight of something monstrous. These were quick, deliberate. Human. Her chest seized. She forced her eyes to track the figure rounding the corner: a woman, a…