LILY
It was stupid, really. She should have just run, shifted, she might have outrun the mud then. But her instruments were her life and they slowed her down. In the end they were more hindrance than help as the singer scrambles from the platform, running with the rest of the crowd. Her beloved lap harp got caught on something and it wrenched her back hard enough to dislocate her shoulder before the mud even reaches her. The pain makes her scream, a sound which is lost amidst the sounds of the melee and she becomes just another terrified, hurting woman in the crowd.
Then the mud hits and it knocks the breath from her, tears her useless arm from the harp and sends her with the rush. Maybe it's irony, or maybe it's sheer luck that the cord of the microphone wraps itself around a tree trunk and keeps her other arm holding on to that for dear life. But when it all settles, she's still breathing, still alive, but mostly immobilized - one arm useless, another wrapped too tightly against the tree that's beginning to settle and sink. Her legs have already disappeared from view, the pressure against them growing ever greater.
"Help! Please!" she struggles to get out, her voice high and pleading. "Someone… please…!"
don't know if you love me or you want me dead
the way you're looking through my eyes
Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive
