Trust No Bitch: Part 2

Clara Wright: Saturday, 5th December, 2015

Snow. In early December. It hadn't happened in years. Clara almost forgot what it looked like, the frost covered tree branches criss crossing like white, scintillating spider webs, the river frozen over like one, giant, meandering mirror. It was beautiful and yet, as she walked through the forest that bordered St. Edmunds, hand in hand with Holly Khan, not the most beautiful thing in front of her.

That was Holly.

And also, the fact that if someone were to pass them by, see them together like that, holding hands and discussing their future, she probably wouldn't give a shit.

"At the end of the year, in the summer, we should go travelling together!" She was saying, excitedly. "Like, we could go to back to the place your parents are from in India and stay for that festival where they throw all that colourful shit at each other, go and see some Bollywood dancing or something like that." Holly rolled her eyes, though not out of hostility and then tapped Clara lightly on the arm. She didn't feel anything however; both of them were enveloped in thick jumpers, coats and scarves.

"That festival where they throw all the colourful shit at each other," Holly said, air quoting Clara as she went, "is called Holi and it's not in the summer, it marks the beginning of spring. Anyway...There's, like, way more to India than Holi and bindis, Clara. It's an amazing country full of amazing people. I'll have to show you...when we go." Clara beamed; being corrected by Holly Khan felt a hell of a lot better than being corrected by Alice Jenkins.

"We could still do all that cheesy touristy crap though, yeah? Like watch sundown at the Taj Mahal from a riverboat, if they do that, go to an elephant sanctuary...I don't know. I just always wanted to do that kind of stuff with someone. My ex, Joe, all he ever wanted to do was fuck." Clara said grimly. "Oh, and watch football. And don't get me wrong, I like that, but there's other stuff, you know. You should live your life like every day is a potential adventure." That was something that Cleo used to say, Clara realised, pausing solemnly for a moment before continuing. "Even I forget that sometimes." Holly raised her eyebrows and nodded, seemingly impressed. "What?" Asked Clara, nudging her gently.

"You're a romantic. I just never would've guessed it." She held a hand out in front of her. "Clara Wright, a romantic. Plot twist of the century."

"Yeah. Just, uh,don't tell anyone, will you?" Clara said, irritated by her own cloying smile. Get a grip, Clara, she scolded herself internally, but then she would look sideways, see Holly's face and go through the whole routine again. Busied by her own thoughts, a moment of silence passed between the two. "How's life out of the closet-" This time, Clara did the air quotes, "-treating you?" She asked, for the sake of something to say. She didn't want Holly to turn around and see her there looking like a cartoon character who just got struck in the face with a saucepan, her dumb grin complete with hazy eyes to match.

"Most people try to avoid talking about it and the ones that do...yeah, they're nice. To my face, at least. But then I suppose they have to be when it's plastered all over the lecture hall like that."

"You know that I had nothing to do with that, don't you? I mean I think we both wanted to be open deep down but I would never-" Clara began to say but Holly didn't let her finish, winding Clara's scarf around her hand and pulling her closer.

"I know." She said quietly into her ear. "Don't worry. We were both out of it, there could've been a whole audience watching us and I'm not sure we would've noticed." Then she paused before speaking again. "Do you think that Sasha Evans had something to do with it? I heard you two got in a fight yesterday."

"You heard about that?" Clara asked, flushing despite the frigid air around her. Attack on command Clara was a different Clara from the one who walked through the forest, hand entwined with Holly Khan's. Holly, however, seemed unperturbed. She just nodded. "Do I think she had something to do with it?" Clara said slowly. "Well, maybe. I think she had something to do with what happened to Cleo King. She had some blog dedicated to how much she hated her. Now that's really fucking weird, am I right?"

"Yeah, but..." Holly hesitated and unhooked her hand from Clara's.

"What?"

"I don't think that necessarily means she killed her. Clara, a lot of people-'

"A lot of people hated Cleo, yeah, I know. Believe me." Clara interrupted sharply. She knew that sentence as well as the extra in the Hollywood movie who stays up all night reading over that one line convinced it will give them their "big break".

"Well, yeah, that's what I mean." Holly replied, her tone placatory. "I don't think you can take one pathetic blog as proof that Sasha Evans had anything to do with what happened to Cleo. They weren't even friends, as far as I know. She was strangled, yeah?" Clara instantaneously stiffened at that word, like some kind of feeble animal deep in the jungle who'd just heard the distant roar of a predator.

Strangled.

Those 9 letters alone were sufficient. It would start Clara off, thinking about it all again, leaving her to fall prey to those execrable visions: Cleo's animated corpse, retching in her ear, embracing her with those grotesque, wafer-thin arms. "I'm sorry..." Said Holly, catching sight of Clara's face and taking her hand again, squeezing it as if the gesture alone could cleanse her mind of that imagery. Of course it wouldn't do it.

Litres upon litres of bleach wouldn't do it.

"That's just what I read in the papers." Holly continued. "But strangulation, that's a personal death. It's a clumsy, spur of the moment thing. The person who did it, they had to have known her and known her well. Well enough that she would let them get close up enough to put their hands around her neck and...you know. Well enough that they wanted to see the light leave her eyes, at least."