SHAY
Blood. Thick crimson liquid blood trickled down Shay Zephanie's cheeks.
She watched her reflection stoically. She knew that it should have been painful, but strangely, she didn't feel anything at all.
A steady flow was dripping from both sides of her face from the deep cuts she made with a razor she had found in a cabinet situated inside the comfort room.
She often saw Marcus grabbed his shaving supplies from there. With her desperate thoughts of wanting to go home, she found her resolve.
Her attention was unwavering towards her mirror image. She hardly even noticed when Amber, the only other person whom she had seen aside from Marcus inside his lab, walked in and frantically grabbed her walkie talkie upon the sight of her.
Shay Zephanie tightened her grip on the blade she was holding. She was sure that blood must be dripping from her hand as well.
She badly misses home. She misses her room, her bed, her mother.
She wants to assure her father that she was alright.
