Larksong Grotto monster

Laurel struggled to try and get free, but for the moment she could find nothing but more pain as she tugged. She tried however, violently struggling to get free without reprieve, wanting nothing but to get away from the pain in the moment. She knew that her father would be angry and she knew she had done a bad thing, but to Laurel, the boys were the cause of Indy's disappearance and surely death out there alone. There was no other explanation. She continued to struggle and whine for a while, wanting to get away from the pain and the situation she was in, and the reminder of what she had done.

By the time Reek came Laurel had been reduced to a ball of sobs, not used to so much pain — on both emotional and mental front. She thought that she would feel better after the fact, but she felt worse now than ever before. Even more so when she laid eyes on her father's face and saw the hatred in his eyes. It wasn't that she wasn't used to receiving such raw hatred from anyone. It was just that usually it was from herself staring back from the water, or Jhala whenever she said or did anything — but she didn't care about Jhala, because she was used to being hated by her. But to see it reflected in the eyes of her father was a shock effect that she hadn't counted on, and she looked away as soon as she had looked up to get away from it.

The extent of the bad thing she had done was not something Laurel could understand, growing but young still and with the grief of her lost sister. She had given up everything for them, irrevocably so — Silver Creek, their real mother, even if Laurel didn't know her at all — and now she wished she hadn't.

She grew small and submissive because the pain was driving her insane and for now she was biding her time for another escape. There was no real answer to the question she had been posed. She hadn't been thinking — she'd only been feeling, and it needed to get out. A border was crossed. She's lost the one thing that was keeping her in tow. "I'm s-sorry," she murmured, looking away and licking her lips out of instinct while she felt disgusted with herself. She had always hated herself for not being more loveable, for not being more special, for looking like a tan, grey blob — but now her self-loathing was pushed another boundary further by her seeming inability to say, well, anything. She didn't even think ahead to what might be — all she was focussed on now was the pain and how to get away from it.