#zeph!

The lights were off.

El panted in the center of the room, blood dripping from her fingers. It flowed in rivers from her elbows, from her shoulders; she didn't really know where they came from. There was a wound on her forehead that was still breathing, she thought, but she wasn't sure.

She still hadn't moved.

Misty would be home soon, she repeated in the back of her mind. Misty would return. Misty would know what to do.

Hah. As if Misty could solve his own problems, forget hers.

But it was better than this. Whatever this was.

She didn't mean to kill them. Death didn't matter here, not in the same way, she knew that, but she still hadn't meant to kill them. It still couldn't have been pleasant. But–what else could she have done? They broke in. They surprised her. She'd fought, for it was kill or be killed in that moment. It certainly seemed like it was, at least.

But what if she was wrong. What if–

What if–

Her head felt like it was splitting at the seams. She couldn't move. She couldn't do anything.

She heard a door open, then close. Footsteps. Misty was home, then. She felt bad, distantly, about the state he had walked in on, but she couldn't do this on her own. She couldn't do anything on her own.

"El?"

She couldn't respond.

She heard Misty's footsteps round the corner and heard them stop. Heard him gasp quietly, and then they were still.

"El?" Gentler, now. As though she was fragile. She wasn't, part of her screamed. She was, a louder part cried, desperate, drowning out everything else in her mind.

"I killed him," she said simply. Her voice wavered; she didn't know why she was surprised. "I... I killed him."

Misty didn't say anything for a moment. He didn't turn on the light, but she knew he was staring at the pool of blood on the ground. Was there a corpse? El didn't even know.

He hesitated for a moment, then she heard him walk towards her. He put a hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he said gently.