D I S C O N T I N U E D
❝Yes, I have been told I'm too rude to be from Amity. Has anyone ever told you that you're an asshole?❞
In which a girl who was meant to be kind must fight for her survival while also trying to keep a secret that could c...
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SAY MY NAME
Camilla was surprisingly calm as she slipped from shadow to shadow with grace and ease. She was a dancer. Light on her feet as she leapt and twirled, every move perfect and precise. Wrapped in a silky dress crafted by the night sky itself with fabrics of darkness and intricate designs made of stars. The moon was her spotlight and the world was her stage.
She paid little more than a glance to the deteriorating buildings as she crept past them, her gaze solely set on the ferris wheel. It wasn't too far away, probably a ten-minute walk at best, so Camilla needed to be quick and on high alert, not wanting to run into the other team as she was executing her little scheme.
Every once and awhile Camilla would stop moving in order to be more aware of her surroundings. Her eyes would explore the pier, taking in every shadow, and her ears would stretch for even the faintest sound of voices or footsteps. The gravel mixed with debris from the rundown buildings beneath her feet was a dead give away of others near her, yet every time, all she heard was a high squeak of a rusty sign swaying in the wind. Every time but the last.
The redhead had just rounded a corner - deciding to pause as she was getting closer and closer to the other teams last known whereabouts - when she heard it. The crunch of gravel.
Camilla spun on her heel and pressed herself against the wall of the building near her. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as the footsteps drew louder and louder; nearer and nearer, until finally, someone turned to the corner, walking straight into the incoming butt of her gun.
She slammed it into them as hard as she could, throwing her weight into it. The person managed to duck, just in the nick of time as the blow skimmed the top of their head. In retaliation to her attack, the person swung their fist at her, knocking her back as pain flourished from her nose.
The sudden tightening around her joints went unnoticed by Camilla as the puppeteer took control. The strings twisted and tugged as she was pulled forward, her hands curled into fists since her gun was lost on the ground.
Camilla lunged at the person, her left fist soaring at their temple. A low growl erupted in her throat when her hand was caught in a strong grip, a warm and rough hand wrapping around her own. Camilla wasted no time in driving her knee into their stomach, hurling it at them with as much force as she could muster. The blow seemed to catch them off guard and a loud groan fell from their lips, their grip momentarily loosening. Camilla took this as an opportunity to wretch her hand away, though the person recovered far quicker than she expected and managed to, once again, retake her fist.
Warning signals began to blare as Camilla's control in the fight seemed to vanish like another shadow in the darkness, slowly melting into nothing as she stepped closer and closer to losing. Camilla grunted, attempting to pull away, only to stay caught. Her right fist shot out, intending to reach the target Camilla had painted on their head, only to soar straight past as they dodged her oncoming attack.
