Blame

Waiting

Elizabeth stared at the ceiling of the cell she sat in with her eyes slightly out of focus.

The coldness of the wall and floor completely seeped through her clothes, keeping her wide awake.

She had a strong lingering headache and couldn't tell if it was because of Ennard or because she had cried too hard.

Two days ago, Elizabeth was dragged out of the woods in handcuffs. She was a complete and utter sobbing mess that was choking on her own air in front of not only the officers, but also all of the people who had come out of nearby shops and things of the like at the commotion.

The redhead could make out quite a few familiar faces through her incredibly blurry vision. She was fairly certain that she had even spotted her father.

But if he recognized his daughter at all, he certainly didn't act like it. Elizabeth didn't blame him.

She was questioned after she arrived at the police station, but nobody could get anything out of her. By that point, she had shut down. She couldn't form coherent responses to anything they asked, so she just ended up sitting there and staring at her shoes until they gave up.

And now, sometime soon, they'd send Elizabeth off to an actual jail while she awaited trial.

There were a lot of thoughts swimming around in the back of her head about it, but most of them were drowned out by the buzzing of nearby fluorescent lights and the snoring of the man that was supposed to be watching over the cells.

The stuff that did manage to break through the droning sounds was stuff that Elizabeth had already thought about a thousand times.

She was going to be found guilty.

She was going to rot in jail for the crimes she committed under Ennard's influence.

She deserved it.

Jesse was dead because of her.

Nick was dead because of her.

Laura, Arlen, Charlie, Freddy, and Gar were injured and probably traumatized because of her.

She was an idiot. If she wasn't unintentionally causing problems for herself, then she was causing them for other people.

She deserved to rot in jail.

"Sh-shut up, brain. Shut the f-fuck up..." Elizabeth mumbled under her breath.

She dragged her fingertips across the rough surface of the concrete floor with an unnecessary amount of force.

They were practically numb from repeated burns Elizabeth had suffered long ago, so the action wasn't particularly painful.

But if she pushed hard enough, it would be.

Nothing would stop the same eight thoughts from cycling through her head again and again. Every single time, Elizabeth thought that she couldn't feel worse than she already did, but she was always wrong.

She wanted them to stop.

She really wanted them to stop.

Red lines began to trail from a few of her fingers.

A door opened somewhere out of Elizabeth's view and was closed in a way that suggested that the person coming in was trying to be quiet.

Somebody began to make their way further into the room, slowly approaching the cell she was being kept in.

Elizabeth didn't bother to look and see who they were, not even when their shadow completely blanketed her.

"Hey, you. How're you doing?" the person asked. Their voice was familiar, and Elizabeth was fairly certain that she shouldn't be hearing it.

Mostly out of sheer surprise, she finally looked at them.