Bleak

Prologue

I look away from Caine, who is currently in the process of gagging Annie with one hand and using his other to pin her against the nearest tree, unable to bear the uncharacteristically terrified whimpers that my nemesis is producing any longer. I gulp, as I notice than Annie isn't the only one being handled violently. Though they are a considerable distance away, I don't have to squint to notice the figures of my cousins Kingsley and Teal engaged in some sort of unfriendly wrestle. From what I can make out, Teal appears to be making an attempt at running away, meanwhile Kingsley is trying to stop him. Both lads are sweating as though they have just run a marathon, and despite the seven year age difference, they look unbelievably similar with their hunky frames and messy bundle of chocolate brown curls. It's only then that I notice that Teal has purposely snatched Kingsley's snapback and launched it into the trees, which I would usually have smirked about, as it is exactly the type of typical Teal method of getting his own way. Giving the situation, however, I conclude that it isn't appropriate. Just as I am contemplating whether or not to intervene before one of the two brothers gets seriously injured, shrieks of agony suddenly bombard my ears. I dart around in terror, dreading, in the fragment of a second that it takes for the 90 degree turn, the sight that I am about to be presented with. Scarsely daring to keep my eyes open, I force them straight ahead, but, though it is in no way pretty, a teency inch of relief floods my body that Annie isn't physically hurt in any way, and is instead merely drooped vulnerably in my brother's tight grasp, her arms tied behind her back with rope, her mouth gagged and hair swept backwards. I avoid her gaze, and instead stare into Caine's deep emerald specs. He shoots a half-hearted wink and a slight nod, indicating that he is ready for me to shoot. My heart begins slamming against the inside of my chest so rapidly that it actually hurts me physically and I have to suppress the urge to rub my pectus. I doubt I would have wanted to anyway, as I am still very wary of the Nosler M48 Patriot firing at any moment. I try and steady my breathing, preparing myself mentally for the life-changing task I am about to perform. I breathe in, and out... in and out... in and out...

"Just f*cking do it, would you?" Caine yells impatiently, causing me a shock consisting of a mixture including anxiety, petrification and exceedingly strong guilt. Annie is struggling desperately, yet Caine appears to have no problem whatsoever in holding her back, though his irritance is unmissable. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, as I begin to gradually raise the gun in what I believe to be the position of Annie. "Are you stupid?"

Opening my eyes abruptly, I question, "Y'what?", and I start trembling as I realise that my fear displayed more as aggression. But as I spot his eyes narrow in annoyance, I remind myself that I'm the one with the gun.

"You don't close your eyes, you prat! I'm stood right fucking next to her! Did you not listen to a word we said to you?" He shouts at me furiously. I nibble on my lip like a small child being told off for misbehaving.

"Sorry," I mutter, all arrogance, intentional or unintentional, having been completely drained. All confidence too, in fact.

"You will be if you fuck this up, Chrissie," He warns me, unhelpful to my nerves. I take one final intake of breath, before desperately trying to steady my hands. As he showed me previously, I place my left hand half-way along the forend, palm facing upwards, and my right hand in an L shape on the schanbel with my index finger resting gently on the trigger. As I secretly plead with myself not to sneeze or cough, or even breathe too heavily, I almost pull the trigger at the stupor of the incoming footsteps. Overly relieved at having prevented the bullet from firing, I notice that the footsteps belong to Kingsley and Teal. I'm not sure why I was so surprised; who else could it have been, really, in the middle of the woods in the dead of day? Perhaps I was more disappointed than shocked. Though I would have been in masses of trouble and most likely been imprisoned for my involvement, I wouldn't be a murderer, and I wouldn't have been forced to live with that on my conscience for my entire life. Kingsley approaches seconds after Teal, who opens his mouth to speak, yet he never gets to finish what he starts to say as Kingsley slaps a hand across his mouth to stop him from speaking. He wraps his other arm around his chest in a restraining gesture, and though Teal struggles determindly against his brother's grip, Kingsley is just too strong for him. Like Annie, vulnerability is not a common factor of Teal's characteristics, and certainly not one which suits my over-protective cousin. I can't quite make out what either of them are saying, but I figure that Teal is swearing violently at Kingsley, who appears to be responding with unpleasant threats. Atypically, Teal would have laughed, taunted whoever it was speaking, yet I suppose nobody is their usual self right now. It takes effort to stop myself from bursting out into tears of frustration and sadness, remourse, envy, fright and anxiousness. I need Teal to be the way he normally is; strong, powerful and protective. Although it is generally rare for relatives to spend a great deal of free time together, Teal and I have a friendship closer than I have with anyone else. Whenever I am normally with him, I never feel scared or worried, no matter where we are or who we see, because he makes me feel safe. He has been hurt whilst defending me before, he has put his own safety on the line several times before to protect me, and many other people. I know there is a difference between the equality of bare fists and no weapons, and two teenagers enclosed in a bundle of trees in the centre of an excluded forrest with their two older outlaw siblings, who have arranged for a girl in her early teen years to be killed. But what would they actually attempt to do to their relative who is equipped with a loaded gun?

Probably the same as usual. And given the state of things, I'd be more likely to leg it into the emptiness of the forrest than fire the bullet at any of them. Especially, though my consideracy towards others is often the gravest flaw in my personality, as I wish no harm upon any of my family members. Because I care.

But then again, I know that deep down I don't want Annie dead. I want her to feel pain, I want her soul to be tortured every single second until her final heartbeat, I want her body to ache with regret and customary sadness for the rest of her life. To me, that would be more of a satisfory punishment as I would be able to stay around to watch her suffer. The way I am suffering. The way Caine is. The way my parents are. What was I thinking? How could we have considered being so selfish as to earn ourselves time in prison at such young ages, to waste time on a girl who doesn't deserve the effort? What were we thinking would happen to mum and dad, if they found out their two remaining children were going to be taken away from them too?

As these regretful thoughts haunt my mind, I begin to conclude, something I never would have expected to be saying, that I would presently prefer Annie to be the conventional cocky, over-confident git that she usually performs, the one remarking about every little negative thing, the one striding around town in her crop tops and mini skirts, exposing more of her body than a greyhound, the one who once poured my Monster energy drink down the sink, claiming that if I was trying to lose weight, energy drinks were an irresponsible drink, as they were doing nothing but making me gain weight. Though she would be unlikely to help Teal and I escape the situation, if Annie helped herself, at least I would get away without a criminal record and she would get away with her life ahead of her.

But she isn't. She wouldn't. And to add to that, she can't.

That is the difference between wishful thinking and reality.

As I observe Teal being dragged towards a tree located less than two metres away, he shakes his head at me, silently pleading with me not to obey Caine's orders, but I'm snapped back to reality as I am screamed at again by my pyscotic sibling, who is now demanding for me to shoot.

This time, as I raise the gun, I am unable to avoid Annie's stare any longer. I look up, away from Kingsley and Teal, and directly into Annie's deep hazel eyes, and although she almost instaneously turns away, I notice something that I have never before seen in Annie. I notice weakness. I notice helplessness. And most strangely of all, I notice fear.

"Just fire the damn bullet, Christine!" Caine screams, furious at my purposely prolonged delay – I can tell he must be exceedingly annoyed because he uses my formal name, and he knows as well as anyone else that I simply detest being referred to as 'Christine'. I glare at him, and notice he is swaying in anticipation. Seconds later, I am taken by surprise as he lowers his tone to a somewhat reasonable whisper, "This isn't easy; don't make it harder than it needs to be."

Completely lost about my next move, I instinctively turn to Teal for support, yet I can tell from the way Kingsley is clinging to his chest that he is in as vulnerable position as Annie. Finally, I land my gaze back on Annie and prepare to pull the trigger. She cowers. Caine winces. I scream.