summary: Beatrice practices darting shooting.
word count: ~1k
alt: ao3
Beatrice knew what decision she’d made, and she knew that she wasn’t changing her mind. Even if seeing the usual dartboard being switched to a human cardboard cutout that’s white but with certain organs labeled on it made hitting the intended target about five times harder. Five, of course, was just a number, a limited amount. Five was not infinity. Five times harder, it was just a clear goal that she was sure she could reach, with practice. She stared at the darts on the wall that missed the cardboard, and fought the urge to just go walk over nearer and slam the dart onto the cardboard right onto the part where the heart was labeled.
She squeezed the dart tight in her hand, feeling the room around her faded into blurriness and the cardboard zoomed in ridiculously clear. She could hear her heart pounding, as if threatening to jump out of her any second. This was good, a background voice said inside her mind, must be adrenaline or something, which would be a good help. She threw the dart forward, and it landed couple of inches left of the cardboard.
She let out a frustrated growl, grabbed another dart from the box at a lightning speed before immediately sprinting over to the other side of the room where the cardboard was. She pulled her arm back a little before flinging it forward. Her hand stopped right before the dart could hit right on the target. She was breathing unevenly and shaking a little. Her grip on the dart tightened and she wanted to cry.
She didn’t cry.














