What Remains

Chapter 8

This Is Me
Do you take me as I am?

Kenny and I creep into the house silently.
Danny's voice is the only sound that fills the air, masking Kenny and I into the darkness of the rest of his house. Kenny, with his barely visible hand, points upwards. I nod in acknowledgment, even though he can't see me. Part of me wants to laugh at myself, but I stifle any potential noises, following close behind Kenny.
We make it to what looked like a small set of stairs and I gulp, praying I wouldn't stumble. To lock it in, I reach for Kenny's arm. His head, from the black shadow-blob of what I can see, shifts to peer down at me. He seems to understand the gesture as I could barely see him turn back around, allowing my hand to grip his lower arm firmly. I follow him upstairs to the familiar loft. The room swallows us further into the black abyss. A lone window at the far end of the room is the only light, leaving us bathing in a misty blue glow. A pang of nostalgia washes over me at the sight of the dreamy room. Memories, guilting ones, creep their way into my mind like early-morning fog next to a waterbank. Kenny seems to notice my trance and bounces his arm that my hand is still digging into, trying to catch my attention. I snap out of it and look at him, asking a silent question. I was just about to let go of him and apologise for the fading marks my fingers engraved to his skin until he drags me along to the window. The turquoise-ish blue hue reflects off of our masks. His porcelain eye sockets are dark, causing his expression to be illegible, hidden.
What is he doing?
I cock my head to the side in inquiry. Kenny notices and takes one step closer, staring down at me. A pause, like a painful skip in an old roll of film. It feels like time stops, like everything is frozen other than us. His head slowly, yet still so suddenly, falls to my ear.
A shallow breath, falling ghostly, surreal, "You're going to die here."
My tongue goes dry inside my mouth.
"You think you're worth something, like any of this will matter?" He whispers.
I can't move a centimeter. Nothing, not even my mind can will me to budge.
"Do you think you're in control here?" A short, condescending laugh, then a hand trails to my neck, gripping my throat firmly, "I am going to break you."
I gag back my words, stifling the bile in my throat. The world feels like a dream— am I swaying in place? The room warps around me, contorting into a pattern of blue, black, blue, black, endlessly. Spiralling within itself and taking me with it. I can't cry. I want to— I want to scream. The top of my head burns, and it begins to spread further down my body.
"Quinn?" A lone voice pools into my mind. "Quinn."
I blink myself awake, staring at the face in front of me.
Kenny. The real Kenny. His hand is on the side of my neck, curling around to my nape.
I regain my senses. My fingers meet my arm with a sharp pinch. I am awake. I am real. This is real, and I am here.
Is that even a good thing?
A door swings open on the main floor, making our heads snap downwards. As a last second resort, Kenny grabs me and pulls us into the darkness in a corner of the loft. Due to the angle, even if Danny comes up and turns on the light he wouldn't immediately see us.
I feel Kenny's chest rise and fall at a laboured pace behind my head. His hands are digging into my shoulders— it hurts, like, really bad. Ignoring my fast-beating heart, I reach up and pat either side of Kenny's arms, prompting him to loosen his grip. It falters and lightens, luckily.
Danny's footsteps interrupt us. They sound at the bottom of the steps, then the middle, then the top. He stares out at the window for a second, taking in the aura of the room. A sort of childish curiosity ebbs at me. Is he thinking of Danielle? Of May and I?
Suddenly, I feel Kenny leave me completely. He creeps to Danny, silent, like a shadow.
A floorboard creaks under Kenny's weight, giving away his position.
Danny whips his head around. He backs away from Kenny and, stupidly, collides with a desk.
Swiftly, Danny reaches his hand behind himself and grabs a table lamp. As he does so, Kenny rushes ahead, readying his axe. Danny catches him before he can finish his swing and shields himself with the bulky part of the lamp.
Kenny grunts animalistically, readying another swing.
As the two fight I creep along the wall, clinging to the shadows. I prepare my knife as Danny is being overpowered. Before I can even lift the hilt a creak sounds from the floor below my feet, sending a full wrack through my body. I freeze in place. Kenny's and Danny's heads snap towards me in an instant. Time pauses and I exchange glances with each of them— confusion, terror, reluctance. Danny takes this as a chance to run. Before he can get far, Kenny slices the back of his right leg with his axe.
Danny falls to the ground, gripping his leg as blood flows from it like a red river, "Get the FUCK away from me!—" He is cut off by his own pained groan.
I opt on not saying anything. I watch Danny struggle to get away like this is some kind of fucked up movie. Kenny watches me intently, compelling me to do something.
Over and done with...
I had tuned out most of my thoughts a while ago because I was afraid of talking myself out of doing this, but that one terrible thought escapes my grasp.
"Come on, just like last time." There it is again.
I catch sight of my knife glistening in the moonlight as I search the room haphazardly. No faces. I avert my gaze back to Danny who has been babbling useless pleads and insults. While trying to shove me off with weak hands. I push his chest down roughly with my empty fist and straddle his hips to keep him plastered to the cold floor.
"I don't want to die." He stops himself, eyeing me over. His hands stop fighting against me, and instead cling to my shirt, so, so gently. "Quinn..?"
My empty hand moves to his hair. I, trembling, brush a few strands out of his face, and he searches my eyes with this sense of knowing. He understands what I have to do.
Just like May.
His hands leave my shirt. One falls the hand on his hair, and he moves it to his cheek. The other goes to the handle of the knife; I feel his clammy palm rest on my knuckles.
I take in his touch for the split second I can.
I'm so sorry.
Danny gives a short nod to my silence. "I forgive you." He whispers.
"I love you," I say, then stab him.
He screams in agony as I land four more quick blows upon his heart. Blood spews everywhere. Despite my mask covering my mouth, I can taste the metallic tinge. I gag, and stumble up. Oh my god, oh fuck....
I watch as the blood pools out from his mottled chest.. how the light fades from his eyes as he searches my mask for any hint of sympathy.  His final breath is long and drawn, fading into a squeal-like wheeze. He's dead too. He's dead.
"You're just like me." Now that voice, that voice is familiar.
I ball my hands into fists and dig my nails into my palms. Is it selfish to want to kill them myself? Kenny said he'd do worse—
A beat, then as if I beckoned him with my mind, he appears in front of me. "Stop hurting yourself." Kenny utters. He pulls my palms in front of his face and wipes the small dots of blood with his gloved fingers. Had I been digging my nails into my skin?
"I think I'm gonna be sick." I whisper.
Kenny takes the knife from my grasp, "Let's go."