[ The world doesn't spin so hard, but she only sees half of it. There's a dull throbbing ache that thrums with every heartbeat, enough to make her feel nauseous — one eye swollen almost shut. She staggers into the night for— she doesn't know, there isn't a clear thought process behind going out rather than returning to the Community Hall.

Help, she thinks. She needs help.

The night is alive with screams and yelling and sobbing — terror fills her, even if she manages to keep her wits about her. Breathlessly, she noisily hurries through the snow, ducks around buildings to avoid anyone she doesn't know. She needs help. She rounds the corner, checking behind her as she darts and looks round just in time just in time for a fist to collide.

For the second time, she sees stars. Blood fills her mouth, wells and spills from her lips. Kate stumbles and crashes into the snow, stunned by the blow — everything is white hot for a moment and then cold, heavy breathing above her.

'You.' the voice says. She doesn't recognise it at first as she rolls onto her stomach, still half-dazed and whimpering in pain. She needs help, and she dizzily starts to move, pushing herself up and crawling forwards — her head too heavy and filled with thick pain like cotton wool, she can barely lift it and all she taste is copper, dirty pennies.

'They're always looking out for you. They're not here now.' Kate whimpers, feels a hand at her ankle that yanks her down and back. 'What about the rest of us, huh? Maybe they'll stop worrying about you and worry about the rest of us with you gone.' ]

Please— [ She needs to get away from him, she needs help. She keeps trying to crawl away, but instead the world turns over and suddenly she's looking at the sky, at him. ... She remembers his name. He hasn't been here long, but she remembers the ones who come here — from the Feasts. She does her best to try and check on everyone, but she's always so busy. Mikel. He's older than her, he studied music at college — he liked hearing her play violin in the hall.

He leers over her. 'It's not fucking fair—!' he yells, and Kate raises her hands up in a defensive gesture as she tries to wriggle back from him in the snow: please, no. He drops to the ground, straddling her and she can't breathe under the weight of him — letting out a cry as he rips the scarf from her neck. ]

Stop—! Please, don't do th—! [ Her voice cuts out with a gag, hands wrapped around her throat and squeezing. Kate's eyes go wide in horror, frozen for a moment before she starts to scramble — her hands grasping desperately to pry his from her. Not like this. Please, not like this. ]