Blue is stilled, momentarily, by the horror of the situation: the decaying double of the girl, the slashes down her arms, hissing poison like the worst doubts coiled in someone's brain come to terrible life. When Beth backs closer to her, she stays close. There's little she can do but try to make herself more solid, more real than the thing, and not leave.

She doesn't know Beth really, and she's never tried to kill herself. But Blue knows the fear of being useless well, better now than ever. She knows from the way the thing is listing names that these are people that she cares about, that likely care about her, the softest places to hit. She knows what it's like to lose loved ones, too, and that's what gets to her the most, that sweet laugh at the idea that a sister, that any of these people wishes Beth had died. It sends a flicker of nausea and rage down her veins.

"I'm so sorry," she says, to Beth mostly, because if this works or not it's going to suck, "but you need to shut the fuck up," and she steps forward and swings hard at not-Beth, with the flashlight, if only to give them enough time to leave.