(under editing)
Y/N Masrani was the most bright, bold, and confident person anyone would ever meet - even if she was slightly crude - and that fact would never change. Ever. Or, at least, so she believed.
Slow updates. It takes so long to write th...
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9| I am so slay for making the market— oh shart. Never mind.
--- (song playing: Happier)
Darious helps me walk, and I look around, “make a turn here.” I say.
For the past twenty minutes, I had been pretending I knew where we were and that we could go find supplies, when really, I was trying to look for Ben, I knew I could stall a bit and maybe search a little bit of the island.
“Y·N,” Kenji speaks up, and I look back at him. “where exactly are we going?”
We're going. . .
I realize I'm saying that in my head, and I speak, “We're going to. . . to. . .” I falter, momentarily forgetting who I was and where we were, this had been happening lately, “that way.” I point towards the bushes.
“Y·N, those are bushes.” Brooklyn tells me, and her tone was one that an adult would use to scold a little child, calm yet stern.
“I know.” I reply, looking around.
Darious looks at me, “Y·N, you seem anxious. . . are you looking for something? Did you drop a hand sanitizer bottle?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“No. . .” my voice trails off as I hear movement, my face lights up, and I turn my head towards the sound, but I turn my head to quickly, and the world becomes blurry, but I can make out the shape of a dinosaur. . .whats-
“Run!” I hear Darious yell, and I feel someone else— probably Kenji, grab me from the other side.
My head hurts, and I hear every sound as if they were turned up times ten, and in a large cavern. Echoing, echoing, echoing.
I apparently have a concussion, like, a major one, well. . .that is, according to Yas, her and Brooklyn had estimated that it had started when we fell from the zip line, then had grown into a more major problem when we jumped from the Monorail.
And then got worse when I was exposed to the smoke in the tunnels, also known as when I hit my head. . .again.
I hadn't looked in a mirror in a while, or combed a brush through my hair, so I probably look ridiculous and disgusting. My shoes were muddy, and there was a stain on my shirt. . .a stain I wanted to desperately get out.
My vision becomes clear again and I see a familiar sign. . .a sign I designed. “Go that way!” I choke out, but instead I get pulled behind a large fallen down tree. “or behind the tree, whatever.”
