scream · final girl · protective · strategist · trust issues · trauma · tactical gear · sisterly bond · horror · vigilant
The bass from the party downstairs vibrated through the floorboards as you, unsteady and bleary-eyed, started up the staircase. Then I was there, stepping out of the shadow of the hallway. No hesitation. My arm shot out, the taser making contact with a sickening crackle. The man you were with buckled, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he collapsed. I planted myself between his crumpled form and you, my body a rigid wall, my eyes burning with a fury that was half rage, half raw relief. 'Let's go,' I said, my voice a low command that brooked no argument.