V | A White-Haired Mystery

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Pain twinged through Clementine's neck, which he rubbed profusely with his hand as he made his way through the infirmary doors. As if getting strangled once today wasn't bad enough, the second time had not only shattered his ego a little but had caused the bruises on his neck to worsen. The bitter taste of his medication also lingered in his mouth, leaving a scorned frown on his face.

          He walked through the infirmary, passing all the empty beds. He was sure they'd start filling up soon when more students mustered the courage to start trying to murder one another. One bed was occupied by a fickle-faced girl, grasping the hand of the boy beside her as the nurse examined a small graze on her arm.

          At the very end of the hall, Elliot and his three friends were standing around a bed, and as Clementine approached, he set his eyes on the very pale face of Molly Brent.

          "There you are—finally," Elliot complained, looking over at him. "What took you so long?"

          "Is she all right?" Clementine asked, dismissing his question as he stood between Carmichael and Stanley.

          "Who are you?" Molly asked with a shaky voice, glaring up at him.

          "This is Clementine," Elliot said, looking down at her. "He's my roommate."

          "Oh," she mumbled.

          The auburn-haired girl lay with bloody bandages wrapped around her chest and an IV in her left arm. Thick, grey bags hung under her green eyes, which darted around the room at the slightest sound. She was evidently traumatized, and Clementine's curiosity to know who and what had attacked her grew.

          He hadn't seen the face of the person fleeing into the forest—he hadn't really seen anything distinctive.

          "We were trying to help her remember what happened," Bernard said.

          "I already told you," she said with a sigh. "All I saw were claws...and then I was on the ground."

          "What kind of claws?" Elliot asked. "Do you remember what colour they were? Shape?"

          She scowled irritably and glanced up at him. "Who are you again?"

          He pouted. "Elliot."

          Molly rolled her eyes and looked up at Carmichael. "I don't remember," she told him.

          Carmichael sighed and nodded, moving his hand over hers. "It's okay," he assured her. "We'll find out who did this."

          She shook her head and huffed in frustration. "It all happened so fast, I just...I was just sitting there...."

          "Do you remember if it was a guy or girl?" Bernard asked.

The Atrophy of Clementine DarlingtonWhere stories live. Discover now