Suzume Catcher
Hiya, I'm Suzy
I swear, I don't belong here, someone listen, please!
I'm only ten
Float on to the painted sky, where dreams will be unified, as I'm swept inside. . .
Suzume slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling the startled squeak that threatened to escape when Iris suddenly leaped off her bed and looked under it. The girl had longish blue hair, and seemed to be the same age as Suzy's sister, Farrow. With mounting dread, she watched her search the two closets before taking a small step in the ten year old's direction.
'Nobody's here!' she wanted to yell (even though it'd be very counterproductive). She was huddled against the wall now, shaking uncontrollably, clutching her notebook and pen in one hand and covering her head with the other. Her chest hurt, it was getting harder to breath, and she let out a choked sob. The crazy girl was right in front of her now, leaning down, and Suzy knew--just
knew--she wouldn't have a human face. No, she'd be a monsters. The monsters were everywhere; to everyone else, they looked like people, but Suzume knew better. No one believed her, said they weren't real, it's only in her head.
'But they are,' she screwed her amethyst eyes shut.
'They are they are they are they are they are they are they----'
"Hello? My names Iris. What's yours?"
Tentatively, she cracked on eye open and peered out. The teen the crouching down, blue hair draped over one shoulder. Suzy flinched back when she held her hand out, but Iris wasn't trying to grab her. Instead, she smiled sweetly and spoke kindly. Still, Suzy hesitated. It could be a trap. That's what monsters in stories did, tricked little children into going under the bed so they could gobble them up.
'But she's not under the bed,' she realized,
'You are.' Did that mean it was okay? By story logic, it did, and that was good enough for Suzume.
"Suzy," she said softly, letting the older girl help her out into the open. Standing at her full height, she wasn't much bigger than an eight year old. Her white long sleeved shirt and matching knee length skirt were streaked with dust, and her purple curls could do with a good brushing. There were bags under her eyes; it'd been a week since she had a decent nights sleep. She looked down, across the room, anywhere but the girl.
"I'm sorry!" she blurted out.
"I wasn't spying, I didn't mean to listen! Please don't be mad," she ended on a whimper, braced for some sort of attack.
. . .where butterflies never die.
I'm in Dorm room #8
With Iris Kamchatka
And I'm terrified
OOC:
Outfit choice #3