Lost in Hollywood

Drowning

The bullet goes through Sky's shoulder, right under the collarbone. She feels the impact, as if someone had hit her, but there's no pain, not at first. The sound makes her ears explode, and for a moment she can't hear anything. The screaming that follows barely cuts through the ringing of her ears, it's coming from somewhere far, far away, she doesn't know who's screaming, or why—

She's on the floor. The tiles are cold under her cheek, and then she sees the gun. It falls from Matt's fingers to the floor, clatters next to Matt's white Adidas sneakers which are now splattered with something red—

Blood. Oh God. It's blood. It's her blood, it's gushing out of the wound on her shoulder, through her pink hoodie, soaking her clothes, and that's when the pain hits her and it's worse than anything she's ever imagined.

Matt is trying to say something, as he staggers back, but Sky can't hear him, her ears are still ringing and the screaming just continues, that sound is cutting through her skin and her flesh and her bones like a chainsaw. Oh, it hurts so much, she can't even breathe, the pain makes the world diminish, darkness is creeping at the edges of her vision, but she doesn't care, because suddenly there's only one thing in her mind—

Kat. Kat! Oh God—

She rolls to her side in the pool of blood, it soaks her hair, her clothes. It can't be all hers, can it? There can't possibly be that much blood in her body— but the pulsing in her shoulder feels like the pulse of her heart, and the blood has painted her pink hoodie red, it covers the floor, she's choking on the taste of iron, choking, her chest is collapsing—

Kat's lips are parted, her onyx eyes are open, but she sees nothing. And when the scream finally leaves Sky's lips, Kat doesn't hear it.

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Snap out of it, snap out of it, snap out of it, it's not real—

Sky forced herself to breathe through the pain that was ripping her shoulder and her chest apart. Four counts in, six out, again and again— It's not real, just another flashback, not real, not real, snap out of it—

She hadn't had one of these in ages, and God, it was so much worse than she had remembered. And now she didn't even have any meds, nothing to ease this, nothing to help with this pain, this shock, this fear—

Opiates - the only thing that could help with PTSD symptoms— but no doctor would give her any, not anymore, because she was a fucking addict, she had messed that up too, and now the only way through these fucking flashbacks and anxiety attacks were these fucking breathing excercises that did no good.

Not real. Just a fucking flashback. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Slowly she came back to, the feeling of cold floor tiles against her bloodied cheek vanished, the taste of blood melted away. Kat was still dead, but it wasn't happening now, it had happened almost two years ago—

Two years. In a couple of months, it would be two years since Kat's death, and still, Sky was stuck in that moment.

Dragging in deep, shaky breaths one after another, Sky forced her eyes open. She was on her knees on the bed. Cody's bed. Her fingers were gripping the sheet, her breathing was thin, strained, painful— and someone was there next to her, holding a hand on her shoulder.

"Sky— It's okay, it's gonna be okay— just breathe, breathe through it—" Cody's voice was thick with worry, his words melted together. "It's okay, just breathe, I'm here—"

The shock clenched Sky's chest, taking her breath.

The gun. It lay on the bed, next to the pillow, dark and cold and vicious on the white sheets. Dark against the white floor tiles that were painted red with blood. Real. It was real. Nothing was ever going to be okay.