Even if the stars don't shine

Blood

  I can do it, she told him. She argued with him over it, saying that she wasn't a child anymore- that she could be tough- she could do it. She remembered the knife, it wasn't very sharp and she couldn't remember who it belonged to. Or where it came from. But she remembered how hard she gripped it. As if it meant her life.

  After that- After talking to Sam- things started to get blurry and strange. As if her memories were diluted by tar and glass, burnt up and sooty. She remembered getting angry at what the boy had said- What did he say again? There was too much ash covering it. You don't scare me- you're just a kid- a little bitch. That's when she did it. She shoved the blunted knife into his stomach.

  It was a surprisingly big wound, she could almost see his intestines escaping under his hand where he tried to keep them in- he could feel them. He was screaming now, so loudly, ear piercingly loud. Bitch! You fucking bitch! She had earlier guessed those were the only swear words he knew. His brother panicked, Sam panicked. In different ways, of course, Sam was more composed, the fraternal twin brother was screaming.

  She had to think fast, the neighbours would start thinking of calling the police, or worse- send over their own people. She lunged forward again. The knife was duller than average and she realised this would be difficult. She grabbed the hair at the back of his head and forced him into the edge as she drew it across his neck. She'd almost decapitated him. The blood, oh God, the blood. It was gushing and spurting and thick. It still didn't kill him immediately, there was still a deathly silent gurgling moment.

  The other boy still didn't seem to understand the danger he was in. He knelt by his brother in front of her and before Sam could grab her- seeing the hard look in her eyes- she brought the tip down fast into the back of his neck, ripping it out again before she could throw up. So much blood, covered in blood- have to get out. She ran out, Sam following.

  No evidence, no evidence, she kept repeating. Oh fuck, fuck! She ran to Sam's house- she and Ellie sometimes slept over there and she kept extra clothes in his cupboard. She stripped immediately, unafraid of being embarrassed now. Sam let her shower and change her clothes- they left the bloody ones in the fire pit, coming back to it minutes later to burn them.

  She watched the fire, she remembered it was warm- wasn't it? The knife. Outside the window. Sam took charge of it, telling her he'd get rid of it, now she still didn't know what he'd done with it. But no one ever found it again.

  Sam's bosses weren't happy, of course, Sam was a good liar though, he told the someone got to them before they did and they came upon the scene and fled. Sam was a good liar. He'd take care of her. He promised. They kept that story.

  When the police came around, the neighbours loyal to Sam and Lana said nothing, having their suspicions about them but not saying them. The neighbours loyal to the boys pointed out Sam's gang, saying Sam was the usual kid they'd use to settle scores, Lana was the puppy-dog that followed. They spoke to Sam.

  He said to them that he was supposed to go to them and give them the message that they were supposed to pay up, that they were in debt. But, by the time he hot there, there alone, they were already dead. That's why Sam was a good liar, he gave the truth mixed in with his lies, so that the person who already believes the piece of truth will then accept the lie easily enough. They never talked about it again. And it was over. It was supposed to be over. Why wasn't it over?

  His guts had spewed. She'd gutted him. Why was the wound so big? She saw the bone at the back of his neck. It was so dark; the blood was so dark. Everything was so dark and bloody and horrible.

  She woke up in the dark, panting and sweating and crying. She hadn't realised she wasn't alone until an arm stretched around her and brought her closer, she gasped at first then realised and held onto him as if her past was trying to drag her away. His heart was warm against her cheek and she fell asleep easily while he slowly rubbed her back to soothe her. He watched her face change from frightened to almost nearly instantly. The way she was able to control it like that, to make it change and hide herself away. Was it still even a conscious decision? Did she know she was even doing it?

  Was he envious?

                                       **

  He was staring again. He felt that it was getting worse. He knew it was because he was trying to drink her all in before things went downhill. They always did. Always did. Especially since that supposed break-in. A dark storm cloud was beginning to gather over the city, Lana predicted rain. She was practically giddy over it.

  "I love the rain..." she said, sitting in the thin window sill, he'd told her that she was going to topple over but she just smiled. "Always have..." she continued.

  He gave up and sat opposite her in the large window, using his feet to balance himself against the floor. "Tell me..."

  "Ellie and I would race the raindrops on the window... she was a hopeless bettor, she always picked the littlest ones and ran her finger so slowly along them... sometimes she actually did win and she wouldn't let it go for weeks after every time," she smiled and watched the clouds.

  "Steve liked the rain when he was inside... outside was a different story, he was miserable when he got wet, like a cat in a bathtub." 

  She chuckled. "I can't imagine Steve being miserable."

  "Oh, Steve would get bothered over a lot of things, when prices rose, when the milk expired or he'd lost his keys..." he smiled faintly, "so he'd go off in a corner and draw for a bit to calm himself down."

  "What would he draw?" she turned to see him staring out the window.

  "Lots of things, landscapes he was trying to get better at, couldn't quite get the tree's shading... He drew a lot of pretty girls he'd seen earlier in the day, sometimes he drew me when I wasn't paying attention. If he was in a real mood, he'd stick it on the door to embarrass me, little did he know it was only free advertising," his smile widened.

  "I'm sure you were a proper skirt chaser back in your day," she joked when he looked at her again.

  "Once... I'm sure I was," he looked back to the window.

  "Do you wish you were back there? Before... it all happened?" she asked quietly.

  He paused for a moment then glanced at her. "Sometimes... not very much lately. I think it's starting to fall into place... very slowly."

  She smiled.