Basorexia - J.MAGUIRE

[3.57] donegal

After going into Sister Michael's office to complain and dob Jenny in for stealing their song from a weekend that Chip hadn't actually been present for, they were somehow all roped in to helping her to clean a house in Donegal as her Aunt had died and she needed the help. Michelle was just in it for the party, the drink and the farmer riding which she was so keen on and Ciara just wanted an excuse to avoid going to her Aunt's with her Mammy - an excuse that worked insanely well.

James had been the one to drive to Donegal, as he had wanted to and Chip wanted to work on her current knitting project - her jumper. So while James drove, Ciara sat in the seat behind his with her headphones over her ears and her knitting project stealing all her attention for the entirety of the journey.

She had only once strayed from her project, to take a cream biscuit offered by Orla and the girls all knew not to bother her. Once before, Chelle had gotten her attention while Chip was counting stitches for the seventh time and had been on the receiving end of quite a yell, some which stunned them all into never interrupting her knitting again - unless it was a desperate situation.

Erin, deeming the situation they were currently in as desperate, pulled off Chip's headphones. "The fuck?" she scowled in confusion as the headphones fell against her neck, her hands still woven in the yarn of her partly completed stitch.

"Irish lass," Chelle answered quickly before anyone else could, partly out of fear directed to the woman who was hanging out her washing.

"Ah right," she sighed and finished her stitch, carefully placing her project at her side before she poked her head out of the window to talk to the woman. She asked for directions in imperfect Irish, frowning when the woman replied with rambles that she could hardly make out. The woman rattled off so much information so quickly that Chip had trouble displacing the key information from throw away information. After thanking the woman, and catching a rather stunned looking James' eye, Ciara closed the window back up. "Up the road, to the left," she instructed while sitting back in her seat, getting comfortable with her knitting once again. The headphones, still softly playing music, remained to rest against her neck. "Rattled on about something to do with the devil for a bit though, aye."

"The devil?"

Ciara laughed to herself and nodded, "She seemed off her actual cracker."

"Speaking of crackers," Orla grinned and delved into her back, whipping out a packet of cream crackers which were offered to everyone. Chip, feeling surprisingly inclined to eating, took two.

Jokingly, Chip asked, "You got any butter?"

"Aye of course," Orla responded, as if it was a stupid question, and delved back into her bag. She pulled out the butter and a small, relatively unsharp knife. Orla and Chip proceeded to munch through multiple crackers each, taking turns to lather them in the butter beforehand.

Suddenly the brakes squealed and the van juddered, sending one of Orla's crackers to the ground. "Shit, flat tire," James grumbled as he looked out of the window. Rambles follpwed from various people, all combining to form a cacophony of sounds where the only thing intelligible was someone's bets that the devil had something to do with the mayhem. "Look we're really close now, lets just grab our stuff and walk," he half yelled over the chaos of mingling conversation, opening the door of the van.

As James walked to the boot, Erin asked, "Are we still moving?"

"Definitely feels like we are," Clare responded quickly, glancing around apprehensively.

"Aye I thought it was just me," Chip, who had just denied taking another cracker from Orla, looked up and frowned as she looked out of the window. She had been feeling the movement for a hot second but just assumed it was her mind playing tricks, as it sometimes usually did when in the car. But the sight of the trees also moving slowly pointed her towards the conclusion that they were in fact moving. "Chelle pull up the handbrake, the stick thing in between the seats."

"This?"

"Aye, pull it up." Chip instructed given that she was at a rather awkward angle to try and do it herself. Michelle proceeded to pull up the break, the van almost immediately stopped and a brief sigh of relief could be heard from James.

As Chip turnt back around and went to reach for her knitting again, the van rolled back and two thuds followed. One of the van hitting James and one of him hitting the floor. Chip looked up at the sound, processing for a second, then climbed out of the van and ran straight to the back. The second she saw him lying on the ground in the mud, completely unconscious, panic began to spill into her mind. "James!"

"What the fuck is he playing at now?" Michelle half yelled as she climbed out of the van, stopping dead as James' still body came into her vision. "Only James could manage to get himself run over by a stationary fucking van."

"Is he dead?" Clare shrieked as the group all now crowded around James, peering down at him.

Chip crouched down at the side of him, momentarily finding the mud that squelched under her boot repulsive. She gently placed her head on his chest, relief flooding through her body when the usual rate of his breath and beating heart echoed in her ears. "He's still breathing."

"He's grand," Chelle almost demanded. "James... James... James! James?"

Chip, who was still crouched at her side trying to decide what to do, looked at Michelle and snapped, "Well that's not helping!"

"Let's just get him to the house and we can ring for help," Clare suggested quickly and they all decided to run with it, not having another option. Collectively, they all carried James further up the road and to the left at the first house that they saw - all figuring it was just Sister Michael's Aunts.

"Sister Michael said the key was under the pot plant," Erin reminded them all as they stopped in front of the house, staring at dozens and dozens of old and dying plants and empty pots. The girls all ran forward to try and find the key as quickly as possible, Chip was left holding James up. Well she had her arms wrapped under his arms, holding the top half of his body up whilst the rest fell limply onto the muddied grass.

"You better not fucking die on me James I swear to Christ," she muttered whilst readjusting her arms, struggling to keep herself and him steady. She was not wearing the right shoes for this type of activity, boots with thick platforms in the bottom were not ideal for this type of soggy ground.

Orla, after victoriously holding up the key seconds after Clare smashed open the window, unlocked the door whilst others came back over to help Chip carry James inside. Once they managed to get him through the door of the dark and rather dingy house, they laid him down on the closest sofa. Chip took a second to make sure that he was laid flat so there was absolutely no chance of his airways being obstructed.

But the more she looked at his unconscious self, the more panic stricken she became.