[She's curled up on the floor with her back to a mirror, knees to her chest, a lumpy backpack and yardstick next to her. There was no mistaking the stomp of feet on the stairs, but the voice isn't one she knows, and a new tension's entering her limbs.]
001.
[She's curled up on the floor with her back to a mirror, knees to her chest, a lumpy backpack and yardstick next to her. There was no mistaking the stomp of feet on the stairs, but the voice isn't one she knows, and a new tension's entering her limbs.]
Something doesn't like us. No.