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Peach Posh
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> ...the flashlight is sitting by the fire, isn't it.
Maybe? Jason had it. I don't know what happened to it.
> Is there someone you tell about this?
When I get out of here, I'm telling everyone about this!
> advance slowly and carefully, feeling out the ground ahead of you, before putting weight on it. Is there a railing or something to hold onto?
I don't think it'll collapse, but there's nothing helpful like a railing, either. Basically, the whole interior is totally packed with crap. Why, you might ask? Turns out the 10/10 Einstein who owns this haunted-ass dump thought he could make big bucks off scrap metal, and because of that, this whole place is full of broken appliances and cars and junk. Apparently it's also like, supposed to be a deterrent for the teens who keep breaking in to have scary parties in here? Sorry to break it to you, owner dude, but it doesn't work so well.
More importantly, there's a towering tetanus-fest between me and the exit, and I can't see any of it. Still, I press forward, arms outstretched, trying not to stumble or impale myself on a hundred rusty nails. I'm concentrating so hard on that I kinda manage to get sorta... completely lost.
But like, okay... when you're lost in a maze, you should put one hand to the wall and follow it through, right? So I do that, running one hand along the rubble to my left and holding out the other to, you know, not run headlong into anything.
This seems to work for a little while, until my hand runs across something sharp. The next thing I know my fingers are bleeding. I let out a few words that my dad doesn't know I know, but I don't feel any better.
Goddamnit, girl! Look at your life! Look at your choices! You could've dated anybody in this podunk hole but you just haaad to go for the Satanist, didn't you? You could have at least held out for a guy with a tattoo or a motorcycle!
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