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Powder flinched as her back made contact with the wall behind her. Her hands were still clenched into fists, raised up to cover her bloodied face. She could feel streams of something warm dripping down her face, drops hitting the ground with a rhythmic tapping. Her eyes were darting around her surroundings, flitting from one thing to the next, failing to find what she was looking for.
A flash of blue crossed her vision.
Powder knew how to fight, and she wasn’t half bad, but she was no match for the thing throwing itself at her.
They looked the same, like they could’ve been sisters—twins, even—but something distinct made that impossible. The look in the other’s eyes was something that Powder could only pray would never show up in hers. Her eyes were pink—scleras a shade of light red like she had been crying constantly, and her irises were a neon, bubblegum pink, so bright they looked almost radioactive. The emotion behind them, though, was ravenous, animalistic, desperate, scared, and so, so angry.
Under the heavy layer of fear in Powder’s heart, there was something else. Melancholy, she guessed. Regret, maybe, even though she had nothing to do with it.
A fist swung for her face, flying past her defenses and socking her in the jaw. Her head swung to the side, temple smacking the wall behind her.
The last thing she saw was the other’s eyes target-locked onto hers, screaming through the darkness, right before she blacked out.