Mate Massacres

Chapter 56

Pip thought back to when he was eleven years old. He thought back to the time his parents died.

His parents went on a camping trip with Marks parents. For once, they didn't bring Mark and Pip, who at the time, were good friends because their parents were good friends.

The night Pip's parents died, and Mark's father died, they were both sleeping at Mark's grandparents' house.

Pip had woken up before Mark on a Sunday morning, who slept with his feet in Pip's face. Pip remembered hearing sobs outside the kitchen. Pip was an awkward child and lingered at the door for long enough to hear the words he would never forget. "Wolves," Mark's granddad said in a grieving rage. "They ate them whole. I'll bet all I have. Wolves killed them!" Mark's granddad slammed his fists on the table while his wife buried her face in tissues. "You can't tell me that a wild dog ate everything, even the bones?" The old man fell into his chair with a heart crushing whimper. "How will we tell that soft boy Pippor that his parents were eaten by damn wolves!"

Pip cringed at the memory, and the memories that happened after that. Pip didn't cry a single tear when he was officially told about his parents. He was so shocked, he sat in silence for days, not able to say a single word or eat or drink. Mark had cried and clung to his mother when she finally came home, injured, and not mentally present, but alive.

Pip had nobody to hug. People thought he was weird that he didn't cry, but he thought he had to be strong, and he knew crying wouldn't bring back his parents.

When he moved into his aunt and uncles house, and returned to school, Mark turned on him. He blamed Pip's parents for his father's death because Pip's parents were the ones to invite Mark's parents and pushed for one last camping trip before the end of summer.

Everyone seemed to forget that Pip lost his parents too because Mark was so loud about his father and how Pip's parents were to blame. At the time, Pip couldn't understand that Mark was a grieving boy and desperately needing someone to blame. Still, if Pip had understood grief better, it wouldn't make any of it hurt any less.

The day Mark turned on him was the day Pip cried, and he felt better for letting his emotions out. From that day on, he cried himself to sleep most nights until people started to ignore Pip, and he could move on without hearing rumours of wolves, hearing who was to blame, and being talked about at school.

By then, Mark had mixed himself with different people, bullies, and turned into a bully himself. Pip not only grieved for his parents, but for the friend he lost.

The moon ventured behind the clouds, darkening the woods around Pip and Mark. Pip never thought they would be sat together after all these years of torment, running from the beasts that tore them apart in the first place.

"We should keep going." Pip's legs had stiffened, but he would run for as long as it took to be safe. He rubbed his hands together as Mark stood too. "I-I think we ran five miles, maybe four."

"We should run a few more at least." Mark looked to the tracks they already made and decided that they should stop running in such a straight line. The snow was covering their tracks, but not quick enough for them to be truly lost.

They ran for 30 more minutes. Pip was warm and still able to go on, but Mark hadn't spent years of running like Pip and had to stop to catch his breath.

"You run... too fast," Mark panted, holding his side.

"You have to be fast to not get caught," Pip mumbled, eyeing his bully.

Mark's face tightened, but he didn't snap back like he usually would. They walked for a while in silence, listening to the snow crunching under their feet because it was the only sound around them, thankfully. Pip might have had a nervous breakdown if he heard rustling in the bushes.