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Alone  Closed 


The First year student had been happily bouncing along. trying to avoid her work just as usual. when suddenly she stopped. The color draining from her face. She raced to the Ladies room. Going in one of them and making mock Vomit gestures and noises. Then suddenly a wave of blood spurts out of her throat and into the toilet. it wouldn't stop. her throat in so much pain. she coughed and hacked and wheezed. Kendra couldn't do anything but cry. She had never experienced so much pain. Finally the Blood Vomit stopped. she coughed and cried. her face streaked with tears. she was in so much pain. Her legs couldn't move, she couldn't cry for help due to her throat. She tried her best to move herself out of the ladies room, which was successful. Her weak legs gained more and more strength as she attempted to go to the Infirmary. But her illness was taking over.  She tripped and fell down. Coughing spurts of blood. She cried more and more, Kendra really couldn't help it. What was wrong with her. She mustered all her strength to try and call for help. her feeble voice echoing through the empty halls.
She crumpled to the wall and cried.

She was alone.

Tomorrow is a new day!

Alone  Closed 

I hope I'm not intruding on a planned situation here.
Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of anxiety and minimal conversation since his arrival at the infamous school, and as expected, the quiet, studious Hufflepuff was just headed to the library to check out a few new books when he was startled by the sounds of coughing echoing through the corridor, followed by a noisy thud. He thought he knew better than to let curiosity get the better of him, but before he knew it, his legs were carrying him in the general direction he'd heard the noises come from. His books were carefully tucked away into an initialed and well worn messenger bag which hung over his torso, the corners of the hard covers jabbing into his thigh with his every stride, made worse by the light jog he broke into upon recognizing the soft chokes of sobs the feminine voice was letting out. It grew louder, and louder still, until finally, he struck gold. His destination, his target, laid in a heap on the stone floor, her pallid body wracking with her cries. The sight was a disturbing one, and frankly, his leg was sore from his Defense Against The Dark Arts novel digging into it for his short journey, but he masked any and all pain, for the sake of the Ravenclaw. In spite of his social anxiety, he leant over at the hip to extend a hand to the girl, kindness exuding from his very being with the generous act. His own voice broke the silence -silent if you aren't counting Kendra's pleas-, distinguishably masculine accompanied by a touch of a higher-pitched, boyish tone, "Here. Let's get you to the infirmary. The nurse will take care of you." Of course, there wasn't any point in asking her what was wrong, or if she needed help. She clearly was not okay, and having plenty trouble getting by on her own. So he was doing what he thought was right.

She wasn't alone any more.