Birthmarks and Bruises

...And Breakage Can Lead to Insanity

Felix led, sprawled across the uncomfortably damp floor, awake in the darkness. Daniel's paranoia was contagious- every scratch or bump from outside the small building had him twitching, prepared to move at any moment. It seemed that every minute he had to remind himself that the building was shrouded by the branches of an ancient willow tree, not the limbs of some kind of demonic wild animals. Or any wild animals, for that matter.
Felix blinked hard, desperately waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness- but they were taking their damn time. Probably, Felix thought, because he kept staring at the moon through the tiny slit window in the concrete.

At least it's the same moon. The sky, the stars, they're okay up there. They're not falling apart. This may be hell, but it's still not Chicken fucking Little.

Every so often someone would sniffle in their sleep- especially Marcus, who also kept muttering parts of a one sided conversation through his slumber.

God, if one of us gets sick- even a cold- then...

He pushed himself upright, giving in to his insomnia.

I just- I can't handle this. We're going round in circles and it's barely been weeks since everything was fine.
I can't keep crying. I hate crying. I'm sick of crying.

Felix scowled at his own tears, disgust swelling up inside of him.

I'm so fucking weak. We're all weak. I can't do this here.

Of course, the bathroom was absolutely appalling and almost completely slick with some putrid smelling, mould-like substance, but it would do for a good old tear vent. It had one of those flimsy chord lights where you had to pull the string to switch it on and hope it didn't snap right off. The half-destroyed bulbs flickered for a second, before emitting a harsh white light accompanying the dull hum of neglected wiring. Hell, the door wouldn't even shut properly.

Buzzing and sobbing and sniffling and tossing and turning and scratching and whimpering and shuffling.

Nothing is ever peaceful. Nothing is ever quiet.

"You are the biggest target in the group."
Maxine. Standing in the doorway, eyes wide and fingers scuffing feverishly against her trousers.

Maxine. Standing like she fucking owns the place, eyes judgemental and fingers tapping against her clothes like she's waiting for me to shut the fuck up.

Felix ignored her. Everything was too much anyway.
"Do you feel proud with that information?" She smiled in a sickly sweet way, as if asking a small child if they knew why they were in time out.

Stop.

"Do you know why, Felix? Do you know why we're all going to die?"

And somehow, she's closer. I don't feel safe. I don't feel safe with her. She is not a bodyguard.

"Did you know it's because of you?"

She's a threat.

The thin, metallic blade of a penknife was rolled upwards with a painful series of clicking sounds. A small, souvenir knife with a neat little pattern etched into the blade, with stereotypical British items. A Union Jack was engraved in there somewhere, a red postbox, Big Ben- it was childish in its design, as if it were made for kids to beg their parents to buy them one.

But, we are kids. We're just kids.

Maxine stared with a lopsided smile and lazy eyes- maybe a serene calmness, or relief, swirling in each widened pupil. Felix struggled to make out anything, eyes blurred by a flurry of tears he was apparently still crying. He wasn't surprised, nor scared, though he knew he should be- no, it was only discomfort. Maybe the stress of not being able to see properly, but it all seemed like a reoccurring nightmare. Maxine wasn't going to hurt him. She wouldn't. That's not how this universe works.

"Aw, are you tired?" She cooed from the left of him, the buzzing of electricity seemingly more violent now that he didn't have to listen to his own sobbing bouncing back against each wall.

Yes. Let me cry myself to sleep.

But, then that familiar jolt of agony surged through his nerves again, exiting his mouth in the form of a pained gasp. Maxine had one elbow lodged deep into the flesh outside Felix' damaged rib cage, the other to the side of his head- keeping her upright, and him trapped. Now that his vision had transformed back to its usual clear image rather than colourful smudges, Felix could see her almost swaying, incredibly twitchy. Her features had switched drastically from its apathetic demeanour to one of an excited child, muted every so often with a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey Felix, do you know what could reaaally help us?" She grinned, each syllable dragged out as if she were slurring. She dangled the exposed blade from two fingers, flipping it over and over and sending glints of silver across the room. Felix grunted, using quivering fingers to try and pry Maxine's arms away from his wound but failing to do so, gulping down the already unpleasant air as his body struggled to fight the amount of pain he was experiencing. Everything started to get a little dizzy again, Maxine's crazed eyes swinging to and fro with the rest of the room like fuzzy medallions.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He managed to splutter, scratching at any inch of Maxine's skin he could as an attempt to release her grip.
"I'm saving us." She answered. Her voice was strained, tuneful but hushed. Deliberately hushed. The blade was brought to his forehead, the top ever so slightly pressed into the skin there. Felix knew exactly where it was positioned. Where a million classmates wiped the space there with a cloth as if to get rid of something, the leathery touch of a grandparent tracing the outline lovingly. Even the feel of his own attempt at covering the blot with a sponge and damp, gloopy makeup.

Maxine's smile dropped, eyes wide and concentrated on her gruesome task. Even the first prick produced a generous spot of blood, perfectly outlining the birthmark with a clean knife slowly at first. It sliced the surface only slightly- yet still sending multiple streams of crimson down Felix' face as he struggled even more to cry out from the immense amount of pain now from both his lower chest and head. The boy screwed one eye shut, the warm liquid seeping into the lower crease of his eyelid, sifting through his lashes. It smelt of metal and the pungency of neglected waste. 

Is everyone just sleeping through this?

"Brothers are heavy sleepers. Andrea would keep quiet anyway." Maxine smiled sweetly, going back through with the knife as if she was set to dig something out. Felix realised he had choked out the statement, focusing more on stopping the agony than keeping his thoughts internal. Maxine had one hand clasped over his mouth, shoving his head forcefully against the dank concrete.
"They'll see the marks." Felix spluttered, wracking his head for any kind of consolation for this awful situation. After all- it was true. Even if Maxine had finished what she wanted to finish with that knife, Felix would have the scars to prove it.
"No they won't." She answered, her fingers pausing stiffly around the handle. "I need to remove your mark." Yet, she made no attempt to continue. The blade slowly slid away from Felix' forehead, tinted pink from the blood against polished metal. Maxine's brow furrowed, her breathing uneven.
"I can't let us all get brought down because you..." The girl stepped away for a moment, speaking as if reassuring herself of something. "You've got the most noticeable one." She continued desperately. A moment of silence, filled only by rugged breaths, before Maxine whipped the blade back towards her companion.
"Don't you dare fucking tell anyone." She murmured, trembling. She was scared. Terrified, even, as she wiped the blood feverishly with her sleeve.