The blood. She could smell the blood. Harsh. Coppery. Overpowering. She could hear it, she could see it, too. A nauseating red wave. Pounding, roaring.

Tuly, my dear.

She walked blindly. Cold feet, groping hands. The blonde hair—the blonde hair was in front of her. Too far away, weaving in and out of her view. The silence was too loud. Made the pounding more painful. Stumble—

She tripped over her own feet. It was hard to count the steps. She was too distracted. The blonde hair, just beyond her reach.

Tuly.

The walls were alive. The darkness twisted in wispy tendrils. Too late, much too late—what time was it, anyway? Half-past the hands spinning right off the clock. Were the halls always this big, this wide? The ceilings this high? The building was a living, breathing creature, chewing up the students, the staff, spitting them back out. She did not want to be swallowed alive.

Tuly, Tuly, Tuly—

The ground fell away before her. Perhaps she'd fall and never stop falling. Perhaps she'd fall all the way to the other end of the Earth.

One step, two step. Sister, we're all going down.

Light as a feather, feet over stone, deeper and deeper into the void. That awful, wet, sucking noise. Her head felt detached from her shoulders. Her bones felt too big for her body. Perhaps she wasn't herself at all.

Tuly, it's time.

Time? Time, what time? Where did that blonde hair go? How was she going to figure out the time like this?

No, that wasn't right. Not that kind of time. There was something else, something much more important. Time for that—time for what?

Oh, her head was really starting to hurt.

The wood was cold on her hands. Cold feet, cold hands. Heavy. The ground was still beneath her. She did not fall to the other end of the Earth. She had not fallen at all. She stood still, walking, walk on.

She could smell the blood. Too strong. She could taste it on her tongue, acrid flavors like bile in her throat. Something was wrong.

She was wrong.

That blonde hair. She'd caught it. Blue eyes. Pale skin. She'd followed—why had she followed? She didn't want this. Mistake, a mistake, she shouldn't have come, shouldn't have, shouldn't have—

Should she have?

Tuly, my dear. Oh, Tuly. Tuly, it's time, you know it's time. It's been too long. Tuly...Tuly...Tuly...

"Tuly?"

The dining hall rocketed around her, grounding her. She was here, in Briargate. In the dining hall. The lights were on. She was alone.

No, that was not true. Over by the door, Miss Winters, Francine Tracy, Maggie Tilworth, and Allison Groves looked at her with concern. Suddenly she realized she couldn't remember how she got here. She was dressed only in her nightgown. She was very cold.

"Miss Lewis, I think you've been sleepwalking," Miss Winters said, venturing further into the room.

Tuly blinked. "Oh."

"Do you...feel all right, dear?" Miss Winters was edgy, not looking her in the eye. Francine, Maggie, and Allison's eyes were large. It made Tuly nervous.

"I guess so," she said. "Tired, I guess."

"You're bleeding quite heavily, dear," Miss Winters said. "I think you should come to the infirmary."

Tuly looked down at herself. The top of her nightgown was soaked in blood. As soon as she saw it she recognized how lightheaded she was.

"Oh," she said dumbly. "Yeah. All right."

With every intention of following Miss Winters out the door, she sank to the ground instead.

"Oh dear, Miss Lewis," Miss Winters said like she was expecting this. "What are we going to do with you?"

Tuly only half-heard her. She was more concentrated on something else—someone else was speaking.

Soon, Tuly. Soon enough.

***So no one cares probably but the other day I tried to draw a picture of Mabel Starkowski and it's basically the scariest thing I've ever seen. An artist I am not. Anyway, thanks to everyone who voted and commented, it means a lot :)***