>>42018750
PART 5: On and On

>The first morning of November was quiet.
>Awfully quiet.
>You wake up feeling heavy and drowsier than you've been in a good couple of years.
>You don't remember ever falling asleep.
>The last thing you remember was holding Scootaloo and letting her—
>You stop and sit up.
>You realize you're on the living room couch. The lights are off and a quiet stillness permeates throughout the entire dorm.
>And Scootaloo isn't here.
>You look over to her bedroom door and see that it's shut.
>She must've crept off while you were out.
>You check the time on your watch.
>It's just after nine in the morning. An hour later than your usual wake-up time, but nothing too bad.
>The memories of the night before flood back to you.
>"I WANT MY MOM AND DAD!"
>There's a jolt in your heart and you feel your chest grow heavy, but you sigh and manage to keep a grip.
>You thought about waking up Scootaloo and talking to her about what happened, letting her vent as much as she wanted—or more accurately, -needed-.
>But you held off on that, at least for now. It was best to give her some space and let her wake up on her own.
>So you get up from the couch with a stretch of your limbs and head into the kitchen to grab something to eat for breakfast.
>There was some canned sausage in one cupboard, and already you were morbidly curious.
>Surprisingly, it wasn't too bad. It tasted like your average rich, smoky breakfast sausage all packed into a can—several little bites at a time.
>If only orange juice could be powdered too...
>You still haven't tried the powdered milk yet.
>As you eat your breakfast, you think about what the plan is today, if any. You didn't forget about your plans to visit the camping and prepper shops, but that was a whole day of a trip—and you weren't sure if Scootaloo was willing to venture too far from the college.
>But you didn't want her to stay here.
>Alone.
>You decided to hold off on the trip for now, if only for a few days.
>Scootaloo came first.
>Ten o'clock rolled by. You waited on the couch, falling in and out of sleep despite what must've been ten hours of sleep last night.
>You waited for Scootaloo, but she never came out of her room.
>There -were- times that she slept in... but this time felt different.
>You were worried.
>You get up from the couch and approach Scootaloo's door. Hesitantly, you give it a couple gentle knocks.
"Scootaloo?" you call out.
>No answer.
>You knock again.
>Again, nothing.
"Scoot...?"
>You wait, and wait.
>She never opens the door.
>You press your ear against the wall and list—
>YOU DON'T HEAR HER BREATHING.
>Immediately, you panic and swing the door open.
>There's a large lump on her bed, covered in pillows.
>No snores, no whimpers, no sighs.
>No breathing.
>You're almost hyperventilating as you approach the bed, fearing the worst.
"Nononono... please, no..." you whisper as you get closer.
>You pull the sheets away.
>And it's only just sheets beneath.