SEVENS

NO FLIES IN WINTER

A|N: this is a thank you for reading, I'm sorry I left it on a cliffhanger and made a lot of you cry apparently... anyway this was a snippet from book two that I was playing around with awhile ago, it's from Jean's POV it is spoiler ish in nature but I don't want to kill anyone with that cliff hanger so here is something to tide you over... kinda anyway enjoy.

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The classroom was cold, the a.c. on and pumping in preparation for the afternoon heat. Freez in the morning, burn through the afternoon. And all I had to fight against it was my short sleeved jersey. A testament to my high school rugby obsession. I thought it was my end all be all. My single purpose. I had to follow in dad's footsteps. Now I couldn't give half a shit. Rugby didn't help anyone, didn't better lives, save lives. It wasn't what saved his. I tried to practice with dad, forced myself. Tried to rekindle that fire.

A fly buzzed by my ear, I waved it off. He didn't seem to care, Alexei. Damn him. He didn't recognize how rugby would not help him. Wouldn't save his soul. He was as brainwashed as I had been. He played like his beating heart was hanging over the in-goal. Pretended that rugby was all he had ever known, ignoring the death living in the faded edges of his shadow.

I'd given it up for him. Rugby. I couldn't bring justice to those who had hurt him, but I'd be damned if I didn't try to stop other kids from being hurt the same. So I'd thrown away my rugby scholarship and applied for the best social justice program in the state. I wouldn't let it happen again—I wouldn't.
I didn't think he'd seen— Alexei. Didn't think he cared. They'd nearly killed him. Left him a bloody mess— left him to freeze or bleed out— he—and he wouldn't open his mouth. Wouldn't even point a finger, nod his head yes.

"yes, those are the officers who ignored my reports"
"yes, those are the teachers who gave me detention for 'lying' "

"yes, thats him. The one who did this. Hooked my rib cage on the curved end of a crowbar, left me to—".
Alexei just shook his head no: "I don't want to talk about it. Let me go. Let me play rugby."

And Dad didn't even care, just pampered Alexei. The attorney was maybe as upset as I was, we had nothing to prosecute with. Alexei wouldn't say anything and both Dad and Mom refused to push him. Meanwhile his attacker was still fucking out there.

Rage heated my skin. Fuming enough to make me sweat. Now not even the a.c. was helping. The fly landed on my notebook, I didn't swat at it. I just breathed deep trying to calm myself. It was over now. It—

I wasn't there— I— I was on vacation— and he— he almost— and I had never been nice, never been a good brother— if he— and, but I hadn't known— I couldn't have done anything— I hadn't been there—oh god

I tried to take a calming breath, like slowing after the reps coach had made us run in practice. It only helped some. I tried to blink the red away, the fear that had built up behind my eyes. Like blinking away the stadium lights after a friday night game—that friday night game—squeezing the images away. When I opened them again I was faced with the slide on the smart board. My rage turned to terror.
My professor's voice was too calm, unphased. "The next two steps of decomposition are pallor mortis and livor mortis. Gravity begins its work in moving all the blood, because the heart has stopped pumping, causing the blood to sink to the bottom of the body. This can be seen as soon as thirty minutes after death."

She flipped to the next slide. There were two photos.
"Here," she pointed to the first photo, a corpse lying on its back. It looked cut in half, photoshopped. Half of the corpse grey like lint, the other red enough to look sunburnt. "—you can see where the blood has separated. Leaving the top of the body and sinking to the corpses back. After about ten hours the blood will stay where is has moved to. Livor mortis is the biggest indicator of if a body was moved—"
My breathing grew louder, drowning out the words of the professor.