@beartrappcd || “ i didn’t want to do that , i was just so scared ”
This can’t be happening. It can’t be; Andrew doesn’t want to accept it. His shaking hands press desperately to the wound, trying to apply pressure like he’s seen people do in the movies— but it doesn’t seem to do anything. Dark crimson seeps between his fingers, drenching his already filthy clothes with Emily’s blood; he’s pretty sure the choked little noises she’s making are the worst thing he’s ever heard. (Right up until the horrible moment she goes silent, that is.)
He’s still holding onto his cousin when the light goes out of her eyes, and it feels like part of him dies with her. The worst part is, i’s not the first time this has happened; he’s starting to see a pattern now. A pattern of failure laid out in visions of the past, of his friends all dying and begging him to help— but he never manages to save them. How many times is he going to let down the people he loves?
Andrew’s whole body shakes as he gets to his feet, his gaze vacant as a wave of nausea crashes over him— and it’s only after he empties his stomach on the grass nearby that he realizes he’s sobbing. Once that registers, it’s like the rest of the world starts to filter in, too; he notices Daniel standing beside him, trying to comfort him, while Taylor stares at Emily with her hands over her mouth in horror. And Mike...
Mike is pacing. He’s holding his head and babbling, but nothing he’s saying registers because Andrew can’t stop staring at the gun still clasped in his other hand. Even after John snatches it away and chucks it into the woods, Andrew still sees it; some masochistic part of his brain keeps reminding him that the barrel of that gun is one of the last things his cousin ever saw.
Oh fuck, Mike killed her. He shot her, she’s gone—
A few things are filtering in now, like Mike saying he didn’t mean it; he was just scared. It almost sounds like he’s begging for understanding. While Andrew knows he’s probably telling the truth, and that everything had happened so fast it’s unlikely he had cruel intentions (the silhouette could’ve been anything, after all, and Mike wasn’t the only one to jump to conclusions), he still can’t help but lash out when the older boy looks to him for reassurance. For justification.
Emily wasn’t always the nicest; Andrew knows that. She had a mean streak, and a tendency to argue, but the same could be said for the rest of the group, too, couldn’t it? It doesn’t mean they’re bad people. They don’t deserve to die. Maybe Andrew’s biased because they’re family, but Emily still should’ve had the chance to walk out of here with the rest of them.
If they ever do make it out of this damn town, that is.
“You should’ve waited,” Andrew chokes out, agonized. He gulps shaky breaths down past the knot in his chest, only to have them immediately escape in ugly sobs. The hand Taylor puts on his shoulder doesn’t even register with him as he takes a step toward Mike— not aggressively, not looking to attack, but begging for an answer. “Why didn’t you wait? She... Why?”
