Here comes an opening [Sight/Touch]
She feels her foot connect with a large piece of driftwood. It nearly flies out of sight from the force of the kick, but she ignores it. Sand under her shoes crunch in the dusky sunlight. Waves lap against the beach, but she can't hear it. Anger is already running through her veins, frustration. Her eyes search for something and soon they land on it: a piece of a shell.
She falls to the ground and grabs it, holding it in her right hand so hard her hand aches. Hybrid presses her lips together and jams the shell into her arm. Pain blooms down her arm as red blood blossoms from the wound. She begins sawing back and forth, opening the arm up.
With each stroke back and forth with the sharp edge, more red comes out, more than she thought would. She begins tearing through muscles. A cry tears at her throat.
It hurts like hell, but she wants to keep going. Her desperation claws at her. She keeps going, deeper into the arm, more red pouring forth onto the sand. It wets and stains it.
Her fingers grasp the shell. She wants to keep going. She's upset and broken, wanting whatever was forcing her to do this to leave. More blood comes out of her arm. She thinks she must've hit some huge vein, but it doesn't matter. She brushes away caution and rational thought, cutting deeper into her arm.
Her jaw tightens against the pain. She knows she's gone through worse, somehow, and she continues to dig. There's something that needs to leave. She ignores the red and cuts harder.
It had to go.
She falls to the ground and grabs it, holding it in her right hand so hard her hand aches. Hybrid presses her lips together and jams the shell into her arm. Pain blooms down her arm as red blood blossoms from the wound. She begins sawing back and forth, opening the arm up.
With each stroke back and forth with the sharp edge, more red comes out, more than she thought would. She begins tearing through muscles. A cry tears at her throat.
It hurts like hell, but she wants to keep going. Her desperation claws at her. She keeps going, deeper into the arm, more red pouring forth onto the sand. It wets and stains it.
Her fingers grasp the shell. She wants to keep going. She's upset and broken, wanting whatever was forcing her to do this to leave. More blood comes out of her arm. She thinks she must've hit some huge vein, but it doesn't matter. She brushes away caution and rational thought, cutting deeper into her arm.
Her jaw tightens against the pain. She knows she's gone through worse, somehow, and she continues to dig. There's something that needs to leave. She ignores the red and cuts harder.
It had to go.