It was a sunny beautiful morning at SHS much like all the other paradise days not interupted by the occasional tropical downpours. This particular day found a demon alone in the ominous woods outside of the campus proper. Woods typically were creepy places where isolation always threatened to overwhelm ones imagination unless that wild beast was kept tightly leashed. At SHS, the woods were extremely quiet as no natural wildlife was to be found. The serenity of the towering trees and beauty of the place was as fake as the illusion that the school was about graduating young women to move onto successful careers and bigger and better things.

There were few truths to the island and among them, that all these young women were destined to one of a handful of fates. Destiny in this case, was a cruel evil bitch. This sunrise with all its glory signified not a new beginning for these students but rather an ominous end for one of them as the demon prowled towards the campus looking for new prey. For one such "lucky" lady, his vicious intentions would become known and her body and mind his plaything.

Slimer happened to be strolling a popular path when one such wide eyed beauty's day was about to come crashing to dark halt. Moving silently and invisibly his four legs carried him along as the light blurred around his form. It was at a distance he heard the approach of shoes crunching along the path as someone came running into view, and he froze along the trackside waiting for the runner to make her appearance around the bend.

Morgan runs. She is in pain with every step, chafed skin rubbed raw around her wrists, her ankles, between her legs. She's slept five hours in as many days, since she got here, and what little she got was worse than nothing, plagued as it was by awful, nightmarish images. She's barely eaten since then either, with only water and - other things - passing her lips. She's running on fumes, and you know what?

It feels good. It may just be delirium, brought about by physical and mental shock, PTSD, malnourishment, sleep-deprivation, homesickness, slight infections from her wounds, or any number of other ailments she'd rather not think about right now, but she feels somehow free, weightless, filled with light and energy. Running like this, performing her own little ritual of corporeal mortification; it's cathartic, and gives her something to focus on.

She dashes through the woods, picking her way across the root-torn ground with all the grace of a mountain goat, never missing a stride. Her clothing - her usual conservative but floaty linen attire - flutters about behind her in the wind of her passing, and errant strands of hair, that have escaped from her headscarf, fan out in the breeze.

Slimer watches waiting and is treating to a strange surprise. It appears that a lone figure approaches intent on outracing something that doesn't truely chase her from behind but inside. She seems happy and free lost in the push and pull of legs churning and burning. Its hard to tell under the linen she wears along with the strange head scarf, but she seems pretty thin and lithe. Her face is not one of classic beauty but one that insists on being caressed nonetheless.

She seems a contradiction on the move as her hair finds ways to pull free and fan out behind her head. Intrigued the demon lies in wait for her to pass on the way to the campus and sets off in pursuit, deciding to see what she is made of. His loping gait with four legs easily keeps pace not behind her, he intentionally doesn't hide the sounds of pursuit ready to freeze at the slightest indication of alarm. He has begun playing with her mind, his final intentions for her firmly in place, the only question would be how long he drinks in every bit of knowledge about her before deciding the when and the where...

Morgan runs. Each step is - for a little while at least - an entire world, full of nothing but rushing air, and the thoughtless, grace-filled effort of angling her feet for each impact with the leaf-mulch strewn ground. She doesn't hear the sounds of pursuit at all, and likely would not be able to do so even if her pursuer were breathing down her neck.

But the hermetic seal that she's constructed against the outer - and, indeed, inner - worlds is not perfect, and unpleasant thoughts and sensations begin to creep through. She looks round, suspecting that someone may be following her, but it's nothing; just her own paranoia and neuroses (are they still neuroses if they're totally vindicated, she wonders idly to herself). This slight sense of unease spoils her run, shifting her out of her earlier, more beatific state of mind, and in time she slows, panting, outside the school building again. She walks towards the changing room, the gym block - then stops. No. Can't change there. Not private enough. They'd see the marks - although I'm increasingly sure that it's nothing they wouldn't have seen on their own bodies. For reasons she doesn't care to think of right now, she doesn't really want to go back to her room either - if Rika was there, she would not be comfortable changing, and even if she wasn't ... well, it still wouldn't be quite right.

It's as Morgan's passing one of the low-slung, sag-roofed art blocks, and peeks in through one of the windows to see a cool, inviting empty space within, that she has an idea as to where she could change out of her old clothes. I'm an undergrad here, she thinks to herself, I've got use of the facilities, I've got no timetable to speak of, I haven't even seen anyone willing to supervise me - I'm going to get changed, then I'm going to do some art. It'll be ... what's the word, therapeutic? Yes, that was it. She slips into one of the art supply cupboards, breathes in the heady air, tainted over years by the alluring smells of pigments and solvents, and begins to change out of her sweaty running clothes into near-identical clean working ones (such is her sense of fashion and practicality). She's got her trousers half-pulled off, and is leaning against a lump of clay the size of a small car, when she freezes looks around nervously. Did a student just come into the art room? Damn it, she's, trapped in this cupboard now ...

The demon tracks along behind the skinny woman intent on keeping pace. To him its more of an easy lope, his front legs extending as calf muscles stretch before his clawed toes touch, then bunch to push forward. In what would be jarring to the human eye, his rear legs have reverse joints. As the front are extending his thighs and calves are exploding down and backwards all force pushing off the leaf strewn ground. His legs pound the crinkling leaves but his lithe prey seems lost in the cathartic moments of each intake and release of air not hearing his immediate pursuit only a couple meters behind the girl.

He trails her back to campus freezing as she looks around in search of the eyes boring into her being, finding nothing, she passes the gym locker room and instead heads for surprisingly the art complex. He allows her to enter and waits not having time to slip in behind her. As she enters a room meant for clay modeling he watches through the slightly foggy glass of the door and sees her entering a supply cupboard. The girl certainly was strange, thought the demon, but her uniqueness made him throb for her all the more, wondering what pleasures he might find plundering the girl's nubile body.

He waits till she is inside and tries to silently enter taking care to turn the knob of the door and peal it open with care. He slips inside only to have the door whisper shut, the metallic springs clacking into place. It was more noise than he intended and decided as a precaution to push home the lock on the room.

Freezing he takes in the room, and waits to see if she had discovered his malicious presence. The closet remains closed although the shuffling inside had gone quiet since the click of the door. Waiting he pauses by the door hinges to see when she would emerge so he could study the exotic girl closely and begin exploration of her body.