@barbecueandchili liked for a tarot-based starter.
1. the hanged man, reversed: martyrdom, indecision, delay 2. the queen of swords: organized, perceptive, independent 3. the page of swords, reversed: haste, undelivered promises
Nea felt sick.
Of course, it could be the sledgehammer wounds. The heavy metal head had struck her twice; the first blow had shattered her shoulder, had left every finger on her left hand feeling numb and tingly. The second had crashed into her stomach so hard she had a hard time believing there was anything left inside her but blood and sludge. It was a goddamn miracle, to her mind, that she could keep her feet at all.
All in all, par for the course. The punk’s knees shuddered with every step; her left arm dangled uselessly at her side. Sometimes it was just like that.
Nea suspected she was taking the wounds so poorly because she was also covered in blood--hot, sticky blood, which, just recently, had resided somewhere inside of Meg Thomas’s body. The two of them had gotten up-close and personal with the business end of a chainsaw, and when the jagged metal teeth had swiped so close that Nea could feel them chewing through the air just inches from her nose, Meg had taken it upon herself to push her to the side.
It was just like her, to play martyr when she was the one with the best chance of survival. Now they were both going to die.
Nea stumbled forward another couple steps, let her good shoulder take the brunt of her weight as she crashed into cover behind a haphazard stack of old car parts and burnt-out tires. The whole pile rumbled with the impact, a tinny rattle she was sure the beast could hear. She had to keep moving--she wasn’t going down without a fight, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Meg sacrifice herself for nothing.
