A few hours pass; you don’t know how long, there’s no clock in the room. Just an unused bed, your abandoned suitcase, and the mostly full package of toilet paper. Rudy never came in. He must be sleeping somewhere else tonight…while you…
The only source of light is the bathroom, and you’re curled in a ball under the plain blanket left in the cage, facing away from that grisly mess. The shadow of the cage is large against the wall, and despite the blanket, you find yourself unable to stop shivering.
You feel a spike of terror when the door opens; surely it can’t be morning already? The dim light of the flashlight isn’t enough to make our Miranda’s face, but you see here there, standing in the doorway, and you back up against the opposite wall of the cage, shaking as she closes and locks the door.
“Mir-Miranda, pl-please…” you whimper.
“Shhh,” she quietly urges you, moving closer to you. “Uh, what is that…? Ugh!” You hear her mutter under her breath as she comes closer and is able to see the mess left by her older sister in the bathroom.
In the light of the open doorway, you can see Miranda more clearly. She’s dressed in her pajamas now, a simple pair of pink and grey flannel pants and an old t-shirt showing Ms. Pacman chomping on tinier Mr. Pacman’s over the shirt’s front. It doesn’t quite fit her anymore, and stops at her ribcage, exposing her flat stomach studded with a small butterfly piercing. You wonder if she appreciates the irony; you certainly won’t be any more attractive emerging from the cocoon of her stomach.
Her stomach is flat and toned now. Apparently, she’d disposed of Malcolm; no doubt in a similar scene to the one Carrie left you. In the light, you can see her slightly messy hair hanging loosely just past her shoulders; the light brown color seeming to almost be edging into the blonde spectrum where the light reflected off of it.
