Hey Guys,
SOL is coming to an end, but you've probably already guessed as much. This next chapter will be done in two parts, with an epilogue possible. I just wanted to say thank-you to all those who've stuck with me, and with Sarah, right through to the end. I know we can both be a little impossible at times. This chapter is dedicated to Toongen, someone who assisted me calmly and rationally when I was ready to screw it up and start again; (metaphorically, of course, you can't screw up a Word Document). As a side note however, the last few lines of the last chapter (Tom: On Forgiveness) have been edited to be in keeping with the attitudes of certain characters.
Stay cool,
Sir Miffington Quack Quack
Sarah – On Battle (Chapter 17: First Half)
Sometimes the stupidity of a collective group will still astound me, even now. People worship battle, they worship war, and they forget that there’s nothing romantic about it. They forget that underneath the ‘romance’ there’s death and hurt and loss. I was going into battle now, barely equipped and still in a hospital robe. But this wasn't something you could study for. When you’re ready to die, you’re ready to die. Perhaps it was simply my time. Perhaps, just this once, an attitude problem and a quick snog sesh wouldn't be enough. Perhaps, today would be my end, my dreams and hopes falling in quick succession.
But it’s unlikely.
~*~
The tumble had caused damage; of that much I was sure. The extent of the damage, however, remained unknown for now. My thoughts swirled around the fishbowl of my mind as I forced my eyelids to open; like so many of my pointless subjects, however, they remained uncooperative. Cold and damp seeped through the pyjama pants I’d worn underneath a backless hospital gown, and the stones grating into the fleshy part of my left hip, disallowed me to believe either my first, or second, assumption. For a moment, the clack, clack, clack of heels pacing on solid tile allowed the thought that I was simply hallucinating, that Tom and Mark’s visit at the hospital had been nothing but a terrifying dream, to gain ground. The next theory was far more likely: that this whole thing, this whole fucking, life-destroying, stupid thing, was a dream. God, I hoped so. I still do - but that high-pitched voice had made me think otherwise. I’d heard it before. She’d been the one member of the chess team I’d never given much thought to, and obviously that had been a mistake on my part. I looked up and there she was, in all her red-haired, unfortunately complexioned, glory.
Lisa.
It was as I lay on the hard stone floor, shocked by the shear guts of the betrayal, that I first felt movement outside my own; as one of the two bodies clutching me came to life. The mover had noticed too. The body twitched, fighting exhaustion and rational thought, until it finally stood to face the figure before us on equal footing. Tom plunged his face through the iron bars that surrounded our small, square cell. We sat in the middle of a once-great castle hall, now modernised and sterile.
“No.” Tom whispered sadly to his old friend, but with little conviction. “No...” Opening his mouth; still attempting to say something, anything, Tom just as quickly snapped it shut once more. The situation became more unbelievable by the second as all his hurt and aggression was kept in. For once in this fucked up mess, no one attempted to solve their problems by screaming, or by shouting. There were no tears. The only familiar aspect was our utter disbelief, covering each of us like a worn autumn jacket; as Tom finally said the simple, logical words our story had so far been lacking.
“You... you’re a Bishop.”
Calmness breeds itself, though also the hybrid of insanity, and it was with a mixture of both of these that Lisa replied:
“You never loved me.”
Oh, dear god. I was going to die, again. All thanks to some post-pubescent loser with an inferiority complex.
Fucking typical.
“But... I- I couldn’t.” pleaded Tom, jerking his head side to side, looking to me, looking even more scared now than he was before. “You know that.” He was trying to reason with her.
“Hah!” laughed Lisa in response, noticing the gesture. “You still haven’t told her then, Tom? Still afraid she’ll reject you? Well... please allow me. You could consider it one last gesture between friends... Let me tell the girl you’ve replaced me with, just why you’re so intent on keeping her safe.” Lisa turned to me as new sobbing, escaping unwilled from Tom mere metres away, dampened my mood and his clothes.
What could be-?
“He’s gay,” whispered Mark, still lying unmoved, loud enough that only I could hear it. “Sarah... Tom’s gay.”
Mark was awake. How long he had been so, I didn’t wonder. Memories of Tom were too busy flashing before my eyes. Tom’s constant defence of Mark, and the anger he had finally felt after his last hope for goodness had been crushed. His shallow jokes... his knowledge of deep conditioning hair masks... It made sense. I refused to question our new friendship, however. I didn't need to. Tom had defended my relationship with the man he loved; only to secure our own selfish happiness. He'd loved us both, in his way; just differently. He’d always been real the hero; not me, not Mark. I’d defend him now. I was the next to stand.
“You know, Lisa, Tom’s a good friend. And if you feel like he’s abandoned you for me, it was probably for good reason.”
“Oh yeah?” The nutter questioned. “And what might that reason be?”
You can’t be serious, right?
In the tone of voice I used to answer all utterly stupid questions I replied slowly, as though she might miss it.“Because you’re a psycho hose beast.”
I turned to Tom, ignoring Lisa’s new indignation. “Tom, I’m- I’m so sorry. About what I said? I would never have-”
“Ditto, babe.” A reluctant smile grew upon Tom’s face as I wrapped an arm around his waist. “I’m sorry too. Fo-” The subtle sound of scratches upon the stone floor of our cage was not what cut Tom off. Nor was it Lisa. As the third member of our dysfunctional trio finally rose, late as usual, it was his voice that reminded us where we were.
“That’s enough,” said Mark forcefully, removing my hand from Tom’s waist and holding it roughly in his own. About to rip it out myself, annoyed at his presumption, I looked up to glare at him face. Something there stopped me - but only just. For the moment at least, I stayed where I was. Mark put his arm around Tom’s shoulders. The comfortable gesture did nothing to suggest the anger we would hear within his voice. The voice that still gave me shivers. “Lisa, you haven’t been working alone, have you? Someone placed a three-way transmitter on each of us.”
An aside, before I could interrupt, Mark muttered. “I’ll tell you later.” He continued once more with his questioning; not in the least having broken his stride.” Who are you working for, Lisa? Who’s the other Bishop?”
Finally, it seemed as though Lisa had grown wary. She rolled her eyes, condescension dripping from her voice like a broken tap. “I’m not a fucking Bishop, you imbecile. How you ever got both Sarah and Tom to fall for you I’ll never know. No, the Bishops-”
“-Are right here.” Another familiar voice cut in seedily, cutting off Lisa and sending yet more unpleasant chills down my spine. How long had these people been planning this? How had we been so blind?
“Sorry that it took us so long,” the voice continued, as two sets of footsteps grew louder, “I was taking care of... well, you know who.” It was only then that two faces appeared in the distance; one in particular a perfect match for the voice. I made the calculations in my head; in hindsight, it was far too obvious:
Who had access to both Lisa, and common school gossip? Who had taken our phones, the day of the competition? Who had been the one person behind us when Mark and I were captured in the alleyway?
Who’d lead the search parties that supposedly combed through the city?
I slapped myself internally for missing it, but refused to let the annoyance control my actions.
“Hey Smith,” I smiled, casually addressing the second traitor revealed in less than an hour. “Sup?”
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Sarah On Life
FantasySarah's never been average. Okay, that's a lie, of course she has. But for the past three years she's been doing everything she can to avoid it. Sarah's given up men, she's given up love, and... she's never been happier. Imagine that. Top of her cla...
