- Foreboding -

- A week later -

Leaning over the sink counter, my hands resting at the side holding my weight, I let out a shivering sigh.

Its been a week since the event of what happened on Blackwood mountain - the day I lost everything. I keep running that night through my head, playing it back like some scratched up record that never stops. Every scream, every choice I made, every heart beat too fast to think straight. I should've done more.

I could've done more. Now the healing wound that'll scar I'll forever carry will be the proof of my failure - a jagged, ugly reminder etched into my skin, something I can't ever get rid of.

Logically, I know it wasn't my fault. I tell my self over and over, like a chant hoping to finally stick. but the guilt cuts deeper than any scar could. Anytime I close my eyes, I see their faces, one last time all over again, the same night always on repeat like a movie that never stops playing.

A knock on the door interrupts my inner turmoil. "You doing alright in there, Zack?" Chris's voice drifts through the wood, tinged with quiet concern. He's trying to sound casual, but I know him too well - there's worry laced in every word he says.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just trying to change the bandages." I call back, trying to sound convincing. I don't want him worrying anymore than he already has. Ever since that night, he's been hovering over me. Like he's afraid I'm gonna shatter if he lets me out of his sight. I scoff under my breath. He really is like a brother - more now than ever.

"You need any help with them?" he asks, his voice softer now, more genuine.

I glance at the roll of bandages sitting on the sink, debating on whether to take him up on the offer or not. I should be able to do this on my own, I think, more stubborn than smart. Slowly I lift my arms up.

Testing the range of motion. The second I stretch to far, a sharp pain in my chest, almost as if I've been shot. Groaning, the air is knocked out of my lungs as I grab the edge of the sink for support, knuckles turning white.

Why can't I just fucking heal already I criticizing my self, not even just physically, but mentally, I'm so exhausted.

I take a shaky breath closing my eyes, trying to relax myself. It's okay to ask for help. I tell my self, though it's a bitter pill to swallow. I hate this feeling of being dependent, being weak. And the most humiliating of it all, is when I have an episode, it's so shameful. Knowing if I don't let him in, he'll just worry more outside that door, and I owe him that much after everything we've dealt with this past week.

"Yeah." I mutter finally," I... could use a hand."

There's a pause, and then I the doorknob turn. Chris steps inside, his expression soft but serious, like he's carrying some of the weight I've been dragging around.

He doesn't say anything about the pain etched on my face, doesn't ask questions. He just moves closer, already knowing what to do, like he's been bracing for this.

"You could've asked sooner, y'know?" He says gently, reaching for the bandages with a small familiar smirk.

"I'm not exactly new to this whole 'helping you out' thing."

I huff out a laugh, sounded more breath than sound, but it's the first real one I've managed in days. And for the first time since the mountain, the silence between us feels less heavy. Just two people holding on trying not to keep each other from falling apart.

"Has there been any word from Josh yet?"

Instantly, the humorous atmosphere drains from the room, I drop my gaze down to the floor, guilt weighing heavy in my chest, while Chris continues wrapping the bandages around my torso. His hands move methodically, but I can tell the question has shifted the atmosphere between us.

"No, he... he hasn't spoken a word to me since it all, I think he hates me, Chris." A waver in my voice, my throat tightening with the weight of the recognition. Josh, my best friend - probably blames me for what happened to his sisters. In truth, I blame myself too.

Chris pauses briefly, glancing up. "He... he doesn't hate you Zack, he just also needs time, this is a lot also on him."

I shake my head, already knowing what Chris said is true. Of course it's been hard on him - those were his sisters. How could it not be?

"I know," I whisper, voice cracking.
"But how he texted Sam... and you, even if only a little... and nothing to me?" My hand trembles slightly in my lap. "It makes me think, he really does hate me."

"Zack, he really doesn't, he just... has his own way dealing with it all." Chris waved his hands around for emphasis, I nod slowly. Knowing deep down he's right. I've been stuck in my head lately - seems like that's all I am these days.

"I promise you, if anything its the opposite," Chris pauses, choosing his words carefully. "You... you risked your life to save them. You were so..."

He trails off, the memory clearly still weighing on him. Seeing me like that must've shaken him - how close I came to dying, or worse, disappearing just like the twins.

Taking a breath in, steadying himself. "I'm sure, he appreciates you the most in it all, you almost died Zack." His voice softens, a trace of sadness slipping through.

I reach out and rest my hand on his arm, a small gesture to let him know I'm still here - alive.

Chris finishes the last of the bandages, stepping back with a quiet sigh.

Finally, we escape out of the crowded bathroom, and head to my room. I grab a shirt, and Chris once again has to help me.

"Have any more of the news article people tried bothering you?" He asked softly, though there's a hint of irritation in his voice - not at me, but at the relentless reporters hounding me. Being a sole survivor has turned me into a big target, and I can't seem to catch a break.

"No, I haven't really left other than going to Dr. Whitfield for my sessions." I reply, tugging down the rest of the shirt on my torso. It feels strange to be so confide, before I was always out, going on walks, just fucking around with the group.

"It's really suffocating in here though, I feel like anytime I take a step out of this house, I'm swarmed by the entire world."

Chris nods, understanding what you mean, as he has also been swarmed a bit, not as much as you though. "You don't have to go through it alone, you know. I'm here for you Zack."

I give a soft smile in appreciation, feeling a warmth spread through me. Having his support means everything to me right now. Honestly, there's nothing more I could need. Just knowing he's by my side helps ease the weight of it all.