❝𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙙𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙙𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨?❞
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ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ʟʏɴɴ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴊʀ ꜰɪɴᴅꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ʀᴏʏᴀʟ ᴡᴏᴏᴅꜱ ᴅᴇɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ
Started: August 13 2023
Ended: -
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𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟯 - 𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧
Mondays used to be a good weekday for Lynn, since it was the only day of the week where she had no classes with the piece of filth that currently walked the halls of her school. It was the only day where Lynn didn't have to stare at her head all day hoping to be literally anywhere else. Right now, though, it was a godsend, because if there weren't a physical barrier between her and her target right now, the delinquent would've been long dead.
The blaring sounds of the bell ringing was the only thing keeping Lynn in the real world at the moment. Ever since the locker room incident, she had been running on autopilot, waiting for her time to strike.
She quickly, mechanically, shoved her books and materials and honestly whatever was in her reach at the moment into her bag before walking straight out of class, avoiding all her friends who called out for her and asked where she was going.
While walking in the hallways and searching for her victim, her hands shook, and she struggled to control the storm that roiled inside her. In that moment, she was a creature of raw emotion and unchecked anger. She didn't notice it then, but crowds of people quite literally parted in half as she walked past, as if they could sense a physical amalgamation of what she was feeling that repelled them away.
Lynn was very strategic in her search, as if her unbridled rage unlocked some part of her brain that activated some survival mode. Every corner she checked, every empty classroom she searched, were all chosen in an order that ensured that she couldn't slip past her. So when the jock turned the last corner and strode toward the restrooms of all places--because of course it would be the restrooms—she knew that the girl was in there.
Everything around the athlete faded into a blur when she turned that last corner and saw the vandal supporting her weight on the sink. As her vision tunneled, her focus honed solely on the object of her rage. However, she didn't attack just yet. Rather, she just stood there, watching.
...
She could immediately tell by the slumped over figure and the sounds of stiff breathing that something had happened. The girl, who's face was blocked by the hood of her sweater, was shaking, and upon closer inspection, Lynn could tell that her knuckles were bruised and that there was blood in the sink. For a second, Lynn's anger actually faltered, because the girl in front of her wasn't the same as the one who embarrassed her all those weeks ago. Somehow, she resembled more the girl in her 3rd grade class.
