they didn't raise the lights again following the final curtain call of professor henry hidgens, not that emilie can completely blame them for that. in the immediate evacuation from the carnage, it only made sense though it now registers as a mild annoyance. the light from the stage only just begins a floor littered with forgotten playbills and the odd remains of concessions. she slips twice before she pulls out her phone as a flashlight, her left hand still hovering, ready to draw if a threat showed itself.
when she reaches the aisle, she sways the light over ted's body. a wave of nausea and heartbreak crashes over her, the gaping wound in the back of his head and smeared pool of blood where people had been racing to leave. there is no point in checking for a pulse, and the guilt hums in her chest. if she'd managed to draw before hidgens, maybe this could have been prevented, but it's too late now. she'll come back when she's sifted through the carnage onstage and behind it, the copious splashes of crimson painting it and shining under the stage lights.
β jesus christ, i'm sorry, ted. β
she does not stop, no time for grieving, knowing that the cops will be arriving anytime. she needs to know if the scene has to be secured beforehand, to stop anything worse from happening. the descent is made with feather light steps, as if she's afraid of making a sound in what should be an empty theatre save for the corpses splayed out ahead and behind.
there aren't enough bodies. the thought pierces through, logic the only force strong enough to combat the flood of emotions. hidgens had been dragging a corpse off stage when intermission ended, it was possible that there were others in a haphazard pile beyond the curtains. the mental jigsaw of the discarded body parts in sight is enough to make her stumble and nearly fall into the gore. in spite of it, she centers herself and moves towards stage left, flashlight still equipped as she moves, following the blood trails as best she can manage.
β if you can hear me--- the cops are on their way ! β she calls out in as clear as she can both as a means of hope for potential survivors, and a deterrence to less supernatural beings. she hopes she's telling the truth about the cops when the one who had been in the audience had proved so useless. β if you need help, try to make noise ! if you can't yell, hit something, kick something--- especially if you're hiding. i need to be able to find you to help ! β
@willowdied
