NOTHING ABOUT THIS WAS EASY.
Understatement of the century, most definitely, but true nonetheless. It was one thing to live the horrors in the moment ; All the fear. Apprehension fueled by adrenaline and the unknown. To go on beyond it was another. No one mentioned the aftermath. There weren’t very many movies about what happens after the victims somehow survive. How despite the killer being caught, away behind bars, there was little catharsis or peace. There was still pain, more pain. Still fear, manifesting in nightmares revisited nightly, in moments where a seemingly innocuous happening in life - a particular sound, a certain voice that you could swear was familiar - had the heart racing and lungs seize as if it was all playing out again. Because no one else knew, no one else BELIEVED, it wasn’t truly over.
PARANOID. That’s what those he tried to tell labeled him as. Cool jock turned head-case, made all the more apparent in their eyes by his finding a ‘new morbid hobby’ in horror films. It wasn’t the unceremonious drop from popularity, or even the odd looks he received that truly bothered him. It was the feeling, the knowledge, that no one else could understand. Acting as heart wrenching punctuation was the realization ; You survived. But a part of you, to your friends, your family, yourself, will have always died. And on some sick level, another thinks you should have in body as well.
Where gaze would normally meet another’s warmly, it remains fixed downcast. Unfocused and vacant at the subject broached.
❝ Press wasn’t supposed to know about that. Guess one of the guys downtown wanted their fifteen minutes. Kinda sad though, papers never mentioned his name once. ❞
Head, somehow heavier - god wasn’t everything HEAVIER - slowly tips up. Gaze considering the brunette at his side.
❝ No offense but – I have someone ask me about this, like, at least every day. I’m ’ that jock a crazy guy wanted bad ’ on campus. If you’re hoping I’ll tell you all about what was on those tapes or whatever – I wont , I’m kinda – ❞ Tone doesn’t grate of annoyance, never so much as hints vexation. As much as maybe he should feel that, should go off on everyone who brings any of this up, has him relive it for the sake of morbid curiosity. In truth he is simply
❝ … tired. Talking about it, y'know. You might as well ask someone else. ❞
she knows that it’s not a good idea to just approach him with it, knows FROM EXPERIENCE that it hurts to talk about. losing people, death and destruction, it takes its toll, and people asking questions never makes it better. if anything it makes it worse. that’s why she moved. that’s why she went on to college as if she was a normal teen, glad to be free of mckinley and people who knew her face. of course she still got questions, all it took was a person hearing her name and connecting the dots, but she still managed. she got away. from mckinley and from death.
OR SO SHE THINKS. death is still watching, waiting, but she isn’t on the top of the list anymore. she doesn’t even realize that the list is still around, doesn’t realize that the lucky three that survived would soon be gone. julie first, then kevin, then it’s her turn. and yes, she’s still paranoid, still looks over her shoulder and flinches when the wind blows, but she at least keeps getting told that it’s over. is constantly reminded that ian’s death marked the end. but she’d thought about it, had thought about how he’d been skipped and then killed anyway. and those thoughts only scare her more, make her question how much she can trust in everyone else’s belief that it’s over.
his words shouldn’t surprise her, she should expect that he doesn’t want to talk about it. and yet she doesn’t move, just sits there and knows that her words are either going to make him feel better for a moment or make him feel worse. and she debates if it’s worth saying, but she wasn’t going to just bring up what happened and then leave. ❝ that’s not- i don’t- i don’t wanna know what was on them. ❞ she could only imagine what he’d seen, knows that what he saw would rival what she’d seen, knew it wasn’t something to chat about.
❝ my name’s wendy. christensen. i uhm.. i kinda know what you’re going through. ❞ it’s a difficult subject to approach, made worse by a gust of wind that visibly sends wendy into a panic for a second. but she wills herself to calm down, even if she is still watching their surroundings carefully. ❝ i don’t know if you’ve heard about what happened in mckinley, it’s like a small town like a couple hours east.. ❞ not far enough, not even close. ❝ there was a roller-coaster crash. i saw it before it happened. i tried to get people off but- ❞ she wonders just how much she can relate to his story now, realizes that she sounds insane. but he lost people too, and she was hoping he’d understand.
❝ only ten people got off. uhm.. and then.. over the next few weeks.. there were ‘freak accidents’. that’s uh- that’s what the news said they were but.. death came back for us. one at a time. i had photos, tried to save everyone but.. death always seemed to wait until just after i got there to do it. like it wanted me to watch. ❞ she wonders if he’ll believe her, wonders if she’s just going to end up outcasted here just like she had been at mckinley, but she’s in too deep to just pretend she didn’t say anything. ❝ there’s only three of us left. they think it’s over, ‘cause we narrowly avoided our deaths but.. i don’t know. ❞ head shakes, as if she can just shake away everything she just said. ❝ i know what it’s like to.. to lose people. to be the one that survives. for people to.. avoid you. thinking you’re CURSED or crazy or just.. dangerous to be around? i get what it’s like. ❞
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