friday knights

58... flatl!ne

friday
knights
58

☊ | track forty-five—tightrope

THE SILENCE COULD ONLY be described as horrific and dreadful. It was the first time since meeting the Knight family that they weren't seen as lively, loud, and energetic and it was gut-wrenching to be surrounded by them in the moment knowing that their son, their brother, might die tonight because of her. That's right, she blamed herself. A portion also blamed Carter for trying to be an action hero but she completely felt at fault. In the pit of her soul, there was a feeling drumming against her gut that whispered that the hit was meant for her. She painfully replayed the scene over and over. The hit came straight for them. It wasn't random.

She could feel it.

Through the dead of silence between everyone, her mind was a broken record repeating the incident, a never-ending cycle of grief and pain that she would live with if Carter died tonight. Yet she just couldn't understand why. Why them? Why him? One moment they were Princess Tiana and Prince Eric, then the next, Peter Parker and Gwen Stacy, Jack and Rose if you will. Three hours of drowning in pain, three hours since she had seen the horror on the family's face, heard such cries of despair and confusion as to why things took the wrong turn the way they did.

She hadn't been able to look any of them in the eye. As much as she wanted to face them and apologize, it was hard.

"Sweetie," Victoria sat beside her. The pain in her voice made facing them harder than before. Carter would scold her for blaming herself for his actions but the truth is, it was a habit. She would always have to apologize for situations that weren't her fault so much that it became a constant reflex no matter what. Still, she had much more growing of that to do.

"Okay," Victoria decided that she needed more time before she was ready to talk and respected that. She was only able to sideways hug her and bring her closer to be coddled and comforted. Brushing her braids over, Victoria kissed her temple. Looking down, she flinched when she saw the amount of dry blood on her hands. "Sweetie...your hands," She choked. Amira blinked down numbly. "Let's get those cleaned off," She stood her up but Cato stopped her.

"You sit, I'll take her." He offered, wrapping his arm around Amira's shoulders and walking her to the nearest single bathroom. He pushed the door all the way back so it would stay open and guided her to the sink. There was some blood splattered on the sleeves of Carter's suit jacket and he took a deep breath before rolling them up her arms.

Amira watched the blood wash from her hands and fill the sink. A numb stare, a numb feeling that she was all too familiar with. It sucked and she wondered when was the feeling ever going to end. Tragedies and trauma seemed to follow her like insidious ghosts, popping up unexpectedly. And once again, she questioned it knowing there would be no one to answer. Why remained and she was just forced to move on. This one would be the hardest if things went south.

While Cato grabbed some paper towels, she watched the watered-down blood twist down the drain. As Cato dried her hands off, she finally looked him in the eyes and felt way worse than before. He was a wreck and she could just imagine what his parents looked like out there. The screams of Victoria yelling for her son, crying out that it wasn't true. Next to her, her soon-to-be ex-husband who she could tell was trying to keep it together, but his voice gave it away, yelling and continuously asking what happened.

He begged her to talk, on his hands in knees in front of her trying to get her to look him in the eye but she couldn't, shaking her head rapidly and turning away so she wouldn't even get just a glimpse of his helpless state. She felt selfish and completely awful for not explaining then and there.