Board Thread:RolePlay/@comment-44540575-20200113041247/@comment-44640489-20200113232147

Ursa woke up in a pool of blood. She groaned, her head was still spinning. She tried to move, but couldn't because of THE PAIN (its real). Ursa gave up and looked at her surrondings. Ursa quickly realized she was in her room because of the art on the wall. That was the only resembelance. She was chained to a wall. "Great." Her dad is no joker. She had no furniture. Just a stack of clothes, books and her art supplies. No weapons, not even a sharp pencil. The window was barred up. (IDK if thats even a word.) The door was obviously locked. No way to pickpock out. Her room was a jail cell. Ursa crawled with all her strength to her art supplies and started her shaky writing. ''Alana. ''She wrote. ''278 Riverside Dr. ''She knew the risks were high but nobody knew of an Alana. All punishment would be cast on her. She folded it up into a paper airplane and thrust it out the window with all her might.