The strike she delivered was instantaneous. Blue's free hand lashed forward, talons curved to rake skin and tear flesh. She was so unsteady on her feet that she couldn't stand up on her own--she used the door to shove back against and, this time, managed to voice the horror in her head in a wild screech, drawing back again to deliver another deadly strike.

But her momentum was still too much for her overused and undernourished body to handle, thus she slumped, sobbing again, this time in pain for her throbbing muscles, still protesting such rough abuse. Huddled in the floor between the door and the wall, Blue hugged her arms and shook in uncontrollable spasms, still feeling the shackles weighting down her wrists and ankles.

She remembered the sluggishness of the tranquilizers, how dazed she'd been during their procedures, how utterly helpless she'd been to murder them all. She opened her mouth again and screamed at the floor, clenching sharp talons in her long hair, pulling at it to alleviate some of the pain inside.