At first, Lillah wasn't particularly interested in whatever "good luck" message the man had sent Leon, but after two of the boys and Raffy walked off with cracked voices, she was curious. She scowled and got up to look at the picture. "What is i--.." she started, though her voice trailed off and got caught in her throat when the phone was turned to her. 

She froze in place, muscles tensing, as she stared at the picture. "No," was all she said for a moment, shaking her head as she took a step back. Though her footing was off and she stumbled back and onto her ass where she had been sitting. "Shit!" she growled, quickly hopping back up. "Wh-what are we going to do? If they find us, won't they just..." She couldn't find the words, but her light eyes flickered to the phone to make her point. "Why?" she demanded instead, gesturing at the phone. "What the fuck is going on anyway? What happened obviously wasn't random." 

Her eyebrows were knitted together and her eyes wide as she looked between the phone and Leon, then occasionally another student. Well, former student. Speaking of which, she found herself glad that the picture sent was only of prom goers getting shot. She had watched the men throw her father back into the fire he had escaped from only to burn alive, and the memory of it had her shaking with rage, fear, confusion, and a clusterfuck of all sorts of feelings. [i]Calm down, Lawson,[/i] she told herself instead of waiting for a half-assed explanation. She took another step back, worried in the back of her mind that she'd hit someone if she didn't put some distance between herself and them. 

For the second time that night, she found herself counting. However, in her head, she couldn't get pass three without having to draw in a long, shaky breath and start over. That was generally her cue to start counting out loud. Though, glancing over the others out of self consciousness had her pause, and that gave the anger just the right amount of time it needed to creep back into control.

Lillah's hands had been clenching and unfolding, but they suddenly stayed clenched as she stepped toward a tree. Her fist slammed into the trunk, splitting some of the bark--but the skin over her knuckles as well. It took a second hit before the pain hit her and she pulled her hand back to shake it, her jaw clenched as she felt tears well up in her eyes. "Fuck," she gasped, kicking at a stone, getting some satisfaction out of it flying off into the woods. Then she dropped into a crouch, hiding her face in her hands. [i]We're dead.[/i] The thought echoed in her mind, followed up by familiar anxieties that insisted it might as well be on your own watch.