Time was a concept that simply didn't exist in what Meg had begun to call 'the Realm.' Eternal night, no indication that anything but minutes passed. Even those felt like it just reset when she was sacrificed. Each hook would turn back the clock, but the events stayed, as did her choices.
Meg was the definition of a spitfire. Always shouting at people, even if it was death personified standing in front of her. Her temper couldn't be handled, not even by someone she had grown close to in the hell of a place she was trapped in: Claudette. The botanist simply smiled and let the former athlete go on her rampages, sometimes resulting in the redhead running off into the foggy woods surrounding the campsites. Perhaps that personality was what drew Evan to the slender female. The constant spitting and hissing, like a rabid animal that simply could not be contained. Sometimes she was sacrificed anyway.
The girl never seemed to learn. Her incessant insults wouldn't draw his attention when he had prey at his feet, but it always stirred something in the bottom of his stomach. Something the Whispers did not like. Was it humanity? A slithering sliver of recognition that despite it all, he was still something real? The Trapper pushed it down and let his rage fuel his hunts.
That pattern continued. She would yell to distract, run, hurt him, and he would relish in the way his cleaver sliced into her freckled flesh like it was made of toughened butter. Meg would never learn that in the end, she couldn't save the survivors she had reluctantly come to call her friends. It would even come down to yelling at others when they wouldn't do what needed to be done to get out; the ginger wound up hurting their relationships. She was stubborn. No matter the killer faced, she would run, run, run until she could no more. Not even she could run from the way the hook was driven into her shoulder, how it narrowly missed bone each time. Just enough to leave her on the verge of darkened vision and painful whimpers.
When it came to a point that Meg would yell at the Trapper, or break one of his traps and watch him go on by to someone else, she wasn't sure as to how much time had passed. A day? A year? Years?
Such behavior struck Meg as odd; she watched Laurie running off in the distance, ways away from the generator she was working on. A slip of the wire resulted from Meg being unfocused, causing the light to blind her for a second and the machinery to rumble unhappily. "Dammit," the athlete murmured. Still, the smiling killer would not turn near her.
"Let's keep on working," Claudette said as she reached a hand out to her energy-filled friend. It took Meg a second to look back, dry lips parted with hesitance.
"Let's keep on working."