#vanbruntz

Her head was pounding, temple blood stained from a wound already closed as she stumbled through the darkness of the snowstorm, trying to figure out where she was in relation to home and how in the hell to get there.

"Hey, can you tell me where I am? I don't know how I got here, but I--," she groaned, hand coming to her head as flashes of the night before came back to her. "I think I'm starting to understand." Someone who had recognised her - The Artist - it seemed her reputation preceded her, and it was becoming more obvious by the day that she was never truly going to be able to leave Skinner in the past.

"I'm just trying to get home, need to get my bearings."