[From here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/757073.html?thread=62074193#t62074193)]
The corridor was silent.
Hanna's footsteps sounded horribly loud in her ears. Horribly… Horribly wrong, actually; almost as though she shouldn't be hearing them at all. She kept one hand braced against the wall as she walked, practically on tip-toe. If she kept on going north, she'd eventually hit the Rec Field, right? A bit of fresh air would be nice, and the moonlight. Oh, oh, and the stars! It'd be a hella lot nicer than the darkness and the dank, and all those other depressing d-words floating around in her head.
It wasn't that Hanna was a coward, per se; she wasn't. She had guts and courage, and a good challenge was even better than a slab of triple chocolate cheesecake for supper. It was just — she sort of. Didn't like her faulty, insanity-laden memories being her only frame of reference. Yeah. The creepiness and the B-rated horrorness (was that even a word? Well, it was now!) was nowhere near as bad as that feeling. The feeling that old delusions (Yuffie) had crept up, and it (she) was smacking her around the head and yelling to be let back in, this morning, thanks very much.
She didn't wanna be Yuffie anymore. She was happy being Hanna, happy with reality (and boy did that lie feel like a kick in the teeth), and all she really wanted was to be back home. Home, where she could noogie Madison and Daniel. Home, where she could puke in Stan's car. Home, where Conner and Tiff and everybody would be waiting.
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The corridor was silent.
Hanna's footsteps sounded horribly loud in her ears. Horribly… Horribly wrong, actually; almost as though she shouldn't be hearing them at all. She kept one hand braced against the wall as she walked, practically on tip-toe. If she kept on going north, she'd eventually hit the Rec Field, right? A bit of fresh air would be nice, and the moonlight. Oh, oh, and the stars! It'd be a hella lot nicer than the darkness and the dank, and all those other depressing d-words floating around in her head.
It wasn't that Hanna was a coward, per se; she wasn't. She had guts and courage, and a good challenge was even better than a slab of triple chocolate cheesecake for supper. It was just — she sort of. Didn't like her faulty, insanity-laden memories being her only frame of reference. Yeah. The creepiness and the B-rated horrorness (was that even a word? Well, it was now!) was nowhere near as bad as that feeling. The feeling that old delusions (Yuffie) had crept up, and it (she) was smacking her around the head and yelling to be let back in, this morning, thanks very much.
She didn't wanna be Yuffie anymore. She was happy being Hanna, happy with reality (and boy did that lie feel like a kick in the teeth), and all she really wanted was to be back home. Home, where she could noogie Madison and Daniel. Home, where she could puke in Stan's car. Home, where Conner and Tiff and everybody would be waiting.