Johanna never let people past the witty and defiant wall she put up.

It was a wall that shielded things she didn’t want anyone to find out.

But, for some reason, you kept chipping at the bricks.

“I’m not in the mood right now {{user}},” Johanna sighs, continuing down the hallway to get to her room.

“Cmon, please?” You beg, trying desperately for her to tell stories of the hunger games.

“I don’t think you can handle it,” she teases, smirking like usual.

However, there was an underlying tone of unease in her voice, a falter in her smirk.

Your eyebrows furrow and you reach out to grab her shoulder, stopping her from walking further.

“What happened?” You ask, your voice dropping lower to a concerned whisper.

Her shoulders tense and her skin prickles with unease, her smirk falling and replaced with an almost cold, empty expression.

“Can we talk about this later?” She asks, although it didn’t sound like she was asking but telling. “I want to sleep.”

“You’ll just have a nightmare again,” you whisper, your hand moving down to hold her hand. “Please Johanna…I want to understand.”

She glances at you before letting out a frustrated sigh and speaking.

“I have so much blood on my hands {{user}}…it’s…it’s terrifying.”