Where They All Go

~Chapter ten: If God is real...~

Day twelve.

"Bro, do you want some food or are you just gonna sleep for another day?"

I open my eyes to see fading candy apple red hair and honey brown eyes. I open my mouth to say something but Greta just tosses something onto my lap and stalks away.

"Greta! I told you not to wake him up!" I hear Blake yell from somewhere else in the cabin.

The pounding in my head comes back full force and I close my eyes again, praying that the darkness will soothe my throbbing eyes. I can hear Swazi and Greta arguing with Blake about something. Sounds like them going out to check the kitchens for more food? A part of me wants to get up and join the fray but one twitch of my leg sends a landslide of pain through me and I give up. The argument crescendos before breaking apart with the sound of a slamming door. I hear someone let out a heavy sigh and sit down heavily onto the bunk next to me.

"I know you're awake Jac," Blake says softly.

"I'm not trying to pretend, my eyes just feel like they're full of burning sand," I answer. My voice is a hoarse broken wreck as I speak and my throat feels like it's full of hot needles.

"I bet." Blake goes silent. Strange. How can we be strangers but feel so comfortable in silence together? But when all we have is each other to survive, bonds tend to form faster.

"Do you think they'll be all right?" she finally asks.

I don't respond right away. Because honestly, I don't know. I want to say yes but I know that can't be true. It's like what Swazi said. If we make it out alive and never see each other again, it will hurt us. If we make it out alive and see each other often, we will find ways to hurt each other. If we all die or just one, it will hurt us.

"I don't know. I just want the best for them." Safest answer. Not a lie either. I mean, you took a knife to the gut and lost two fingers so that Swazi could remain "free".

"Blake."

"Yes?"

"What happened to Porter?"

She goes silent again. I feel her shifting on the bed.

"Greta stabbed him through the throat," she says quietly.

Oh dear God. We're raising murders.

"She...? Like, just... wham?" I mime a thrusting motion weakly. By mime I mean I barely lifted my arm and immediately was blinded by searing pain.

Even though my eyes are closed, I can tell Blake nods. I swallow hard. And then again. What are these girls going to be like once we get out of here? One of them has already taken a life.

There's a hand on my leg and I feel Blakes sigh on the cold skin of my forearm.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks, leaning close enough that I can feel her warmth on my cold hands.

"It?"

"Swazi."

I don't answer. Her name hangs in the silence, pressing onto my chest and threatening to make me choke.

"Jac?"

I open my eyes and tears immediately spring to them. I flick them around the room, feeling their rawness.

"What is there to talk about?" I don't make eye contact.

"She clearly needs help. That and you seem to have strong..." She pauses, pressing her lips together.

I clench my jaw. "Strong what, Blake?"

"A strong attachment," she answers carefully.

"I only want what's best for her. She deserves happiness at the very least. There's nothing wrong with caring for her." My voice sounds thick as if there's something caught in my throat. There might be considering how much blood was in my mouth the other day but that's beside the point.

Blake stares at me with her piercing hazel eyes, something strange glinting in there. Then, out of nowhere, she begins to laugh. It starts as a low chuckle before building and breaking into a full-on cackle.

I watch her, confused. Has she lost it? What's so funny? I watch as tears form in her big eyes and she grabs my shin as she bends over, struggling to breathe in between laughs.

"You...You okay there?"

Her hold on my leg tightens and I wince slightly. Finally, she pulls in enough air to gasp out a few words.

"I'm fine, sorry." She sits up and leans back, the tops of her shoulders braced against the wall. "We're fucked. Honest to God."

I frown, still very confused. "What do you mean?"

"We came to this camp to watch a few kids for a week, they tell us not to get to attached because they'll be gone in a week, and then shit hits the fan and we're sitting here way too attached to two girls, one whose killed someone and the other who's got the emotional capacity of a rock," she stops to take a breath, "what did we ever do to end up in this situation? If God is real, he's got a sick sense of humour, that's for sure."

"You don't know the half of it," I mumble.

She looks at me and smiles sadly. "It takes one to know one."

"Takes what?"

She stands from the bunk and turns her back to me. "Survivors have a way of finding each other." She rubs a hand along her arm, pulling up her sleeve slightly and I catch a glimpse of her forearm. A forearm riddled with thick white scars.

Blake disappears into the bathroom, and I am left lying in uncomfortable silence.

I feel so useless. So broken. As if I will never be whole again. But I'm not sure I was whole in the first place.