ojandtostitos commented on samtaro's post in blueridgeschool:

Tatum was only half aware of what was going on anymore. Besides the blinding pain and the fact that she felt like she kept fading out, there wasn't much else. She was aware of her laboured breathing, that she had definitely lost a lot of blood. It was hard to say, not being in the observer position that she usually took, but she thought maybe she was bleeding out. She felt incredibly weak and nauseous, and the idea of fighting back against the wolf was almost too mammoth of an idea to consider. She could only lay there, hoping mostly. There were tears flowing from her eyes, but she had no real control over them, just heaving and sobbing, the corners of her eyes leaking profusely. It hurt so much, and he was so big.

She felt brief relief when some of his weight shifted, breathing became the tiniest bit easier, but she closed her eyes tightly and just waited as he began to paw at her face. She let her head fall to the side, feeling her hair fall over her neck as the wolf began sniffing at her furiously. This was it, she figured. He would just tear her throat out, he was just literally a breath away from it, and then at least the pain would be over. It hurt, and actually anywhere the thing's teeth got her fucking burned, all of the bite marks and claw tracks and piece of flesh he had torn into. If she died, at least she wouldn't be in agony anymore.

She'd see Frankie, there was that. She did owe her an apology of sorts. If that whole afterlife thing was true. Even if what the church taught them was true, she was pretty sure that they'd end up in the same place anyway. Lesbians and suicidal people were all supposed to go to the same hell, or at least she was sure that was what her dad would say. Her dad, she wondered briefly, would he even care she was dead? He'd probably be happy.

Letting out another shrill cry as the wolf began attacking her again, ripping into her just above the top of her jeans, Tatum tried to get the energy up to scream for help again. She didn't want to die, but she couldn't fight, couldn't help herself. She needed someone. "Mack please," she tried again, in a low croak that stood zero chance of making it up to the campus. Even when she had been screaming at the top of her voice, no one stirred. She felt another scream boiling up in her as the wolf bit hard into her hip. "F-Frankie, Mack, p-please somebody!" she managed to get out, feeling the tears still leaking from her eyes even as she laid on her back and accepted her fate. "M-Make it-- just s-stop, it hurts," she murmured weakly. She was definitely bleeding, and way too much.

"S-Sam, somebody.. I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-- I d-didn't know, I-I'm sorry, I'll s-stay out of the woods," she managed to get out, feeling fainter than ever. How long did it take to die anyway? Some people, it took hours. She didn't know if she could wait that long. Everything ached and stung and throbbed.