Girl number five, Annabelle Buchannon, was doing what she did best; running. It had felt like forever since the last time she had stretched her long legs in this manner. With her gun in her hands, the redhead was struggling to remain balanced. The long-ranged instrument of death was rather heavy, but the real trouble lay with the large green daypack she haunched on her thin shoulders. Breathing raggedly, the lanky female trekked through the open streets, heading toward, of all places, a large mall south-west of what she once called her "home". It had been two days so far, and it was approaching midnight and the third day. Annabelle still could not believe what had happened between Gigi, Goldilocks, and herself. Just what was the world coming to? The game was getting to her. She knew it. She had felt the thoughts creeping inside of her mind before.
Following the forceful blow into the unknown person's abdomen, both Annabelle and her prey were sent soaring down stairs. A loud, unidentifiable bang met the redhead's ears as she met the living room carpet with her face and it gave her a searing kiss, burning her skin lightly. On the half-roll, half-fall down the stairs, the girl had recklessly banged her head on the mahogany wood, earning her a rather splitting headache. The mass of her head pulsating with pain, the redhead stumbled clumsily to her feet. Her dress and shoes were blood-stained, the liquid tissue causing her attire to cling to her body and weigh her down. She was seeing red; blood. She thirsted for it; craved it.
It was apparent that there was something wrong with one Annabelle Buchannon; something very, very wrong indeed. Denial had seemingly caused her to go into a mindset of temporary insanity, shadowing her rationality with a storm cloud of bestiality. It was somewhat funny how she looked, like some sort of maniacal Raggedy Anne doll, towering over another girl positioning a gun at her chest. The redhead's eyes were glazed over with bloodlust, and she appeared to be waiting to strike. "S-tttep B-bback......." Gigi whispered, still shaking from both fright and anxiety. Annabelle looked into her eyes and started from the intensity of her stare. The torrent of human emotion the brunette girl held within her gaze was astounding, so powerful that Annabelle was thrown back into coherent thought.
She had to get out of the house. Gigi was most definitely a danger to her sanity, and Goldilocks was already dead, having killed herself to escape the game so it would seem. This place was quickly catalyzing some sort of reaction to the situation. This was Survival of the Fittest. Sure, she had known that before, but something hadn't allowed her to grasp what was truly going on. People were dying
. Shaking her head to clear it of unnecessary thoughts, the tall female let her guard down and spoke evenly and without hesitation. "I'm going to get my things and leave this house. I don't want to fight you. Honestly, I just can't stay with you. Not to offend, but you're just so tacky and obnoxious, and you get under my skin. I'm afraid that if I stay with you that we shall realy hurt each other." Annabelle almost preached to the brunette, meeting her gaze with one that reflected an unknown sadness. Nodding curtly to her old "friend", the redhead moved swiftly into the kitchen to grab the daypack and retrieve the leftover foods.
Having placed the bread, cheese, water, and a few cans of vegetables in the large green pack, Annabelle hoisted the behemoth onto her shoulders. Wobbling unsteadily, she took care in moving up the stairs. Her room held what she would really need: the gun. The Heckler and Kosch 53 was something that would be useful if she met with danger. It was going to be inevitable; however, she would be ready when the time came. Picking up the small, albeit heavy gun and the assorted items involved with its operation, Annabelle was off back down the hall and toward the stairs. The girl stopped suddenly as she was moving past the lighted bathroom. Fighting tears, she silently prayed that the unnamed girl had found some sort of peace in her death. Flipping off the light switch, the redhead determinedly set off again down the stairwell. Darting as fast as her twigs allowed given the carrying of weighty objects, the girl passed by Gigi on her way out of the door. Not turning around, she spoke over her shoulder, "I'm sorry. It's just how it has to be. Goodbye, and good luck." With that, the terribly addled female was off, traveling awkwardly through the night.
And so, Annabelle had ended up in front of a mall, the blood and vomit stinking her attire in its dry state. She knew she must look like hell personified, but she didn't mind. Perhaps the mall held some form of protection, and even more, perhaps sane persons inhabited the place. She would soon find out.
((Continued in I Like Shopping!