This Still Happens

Chapter Four - Blood: Sophie

Behind me, Chris' running footsteps crunch against twigs and roots. "Sophie, come on, what was I meant to do?"

I don't answer. I just keep on running. But it's like I'm having a nightmare, knees pushing against the soft of the mattress, every step a lumber in slow motion, the air in front of me a syrup I can't push through.

"Sophie!" Chris grabs my wrist, and stops still so that I have no choice but to stop as well. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated as he stares into mine. Artificial blue. Synthetic blue. "Soph, please. You know I had to do it."

I wrest my arm free. "Don't touch me! Don't you ever dare touch me again!" I'm screaming. I'm not even screaming on purpose. Why am I screaming? I can't stop-- I can't stop screaming. I can't--

Chris pushes me against a tree and presses his hand over my mouth. "Shut up," he hisses, "Or do you want to freak out the whole village?"

The knots and ridges in the bark dig into my back like nails. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I shake my head.

"Good," Chris says, grinning, "So you'll be quiet, then?"

My quiet after my scream. Gordon's quiet after Gordon's scream. My stomach twists, leaping acid burning my throat. That could have been me. That could still be me.

I nod.

Chris' hand falls away, and he stamps his lips on mine, a harsh kiss that forces my head against the bark. And then he pulls away, smiling. "Good girl," he says, tapping my crucifix.

"You killed him," I whisper, throat hoarse and raw. The tears... Every drop of water in my body is forcing its way out of my eyes. "You killed Gordon." Black spots appear in front of my eyes, and my knees weaken. "You--"

"I had to do it, remember?" Chris says, "Just remember that. I had to do it. We're better off without him. All of us. And that includes you."

"He was our friend," I sob, "He was my friend. He was your friend." All of a sudden I'm back to screaming at him. "Your friend, Chris!" Every one of my limbs judders like I'm being electrocuted, and it just goes on and on as I remember it all. It plays out, a terrifying supercut, superimposed over Chris' face.

Gordon lying so still on the sand, so still, even after they pulled him out of the water. So still and so pale and so cold, so cold, I could tell even without looking at him. And his smashed face, his bleeding nose.

Etta trying to get him to breathe. Lena scrambling for her phone, finding it switched off, still, from being all day at school. Char and Stef running, running, running... for help? For safety?

And me running... Why was I running? Chris chasing me into the woods. Grabbing my wrist. And now here we are.

Here we. Here.

"Can't have friends like that," says Chris, his voice fading, "Can't have anyone like that hanging around my girlfriend."

I shake my head. "It's over," I say, but even my voice is quiet. "It's over" I say again, but it's barely a whisper. Much as I might want to yell it at him—"It's over, it's over, it's so fucking over, you piece of shit,"—the closest I can manage is a murmur.

My feet. I look down and they're bare and bleeding, torn up by the roots and the brambles and the stones. I'm a long way from the path. I've come a long way from the smooth ground. My feet. I barely recognise them.

Is the sun setting already? Or is there a storm coming in? I've never known it get dark so quickly.