Chapter 1: Reality Check
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh fuck!’
I could here my voice resonating through the screams and cries of the rest of the group, bouncing back off of the seemingly sterile orders being thrown by Jack.
‘This way! Come on!’
Alex who’s brutish form took up most of the doorway he had just broken through hurried them along, a panicked look complimented by grief stricken eyes, betraying his intimidating silhouette.
Fading through the chaos I heard Jacks voice calling to me.
‘Kara. Kara!’
His voice snapped me back to reality, as my eyes met his.
‘Keep pressure on his chest.’
The order came not from panic, it never did with Jack, always able to keep his head, and think his way ahead of any situation. But if that was so, how did he not see this coming?
We entered a relic of what was once a hospital. I had no idea what road we were on, any street signs I had seen I hadn’t taken in.
A map on the wall showed us where to go, A&E.
We slumped Simon on a bed his body jerking and writhing, his face had paled, whether it was from loss of blood, or shock I had no idea, I hoped it was the latter.
‘It’s okay sweety it’s okay, it’s all gonna be okay.’
Simon’s disconcerted words to my right made me spin, and only upon seeing Tilly, his 9-year-old daughter, did I hear her crying. Simon tossed a quick look my way to say “please get her out of here.” I turned to acquiesce.
‘C’mon Tilly, come with me.’
‘Pressure!’
Jacks uncharacteristic flair racked me and I suddenly remembered what I had been doing; trying to saving my friends life.
Simons’ blood pumped through my fingers, hypnotising me. Soon the distant orders from Jack, Tillys’ painful cries, even the powerful relay of Jacks’ orders from Alex’s drill sergeant voice faded into an audible darkness, until finally all I could hear passed the thumping of my own pulse was Leticia, Simons’ wife, gently ‘”shhing” in her daughters ear, desperately trying to down play the situation.
Only then, listening to Leticia, could I take in my surroundings. And the only thought I could muster?
‘What the fuck happened?’
Chapter 2: The Big Bang
It started like any other day, which doesn’t mean it was good, the nightmares kept me stirring all night, as they had for years before I moved on my own to London. I wish I could say they were just figments of my imagination, stirred up by some insignificant fear that only really comes to light when my head hits the pillow.
The abrupt sound of my £5.99 alarm clock shocked me out of the nightmare, and as putridly sharp the sound might be every morning I say thank you.
The hot shower and bacon sandwich flushed away any memories of my night time horror movie. I grabbed my books, and checked my gym back had all my gear ready, stepped out of my front door to be greeted by a warming glow from the late spring sun, taking a moment to bask in the purifying rays before heading off for my first lecture of the day.
Nothing out of the overtly out of the ordinary happened that day, I sat through the lecture, my lecturers voice as dreary as ever, and as much as I realise Law isn’t the most attention grabbing of subjects, it’s something I’m passionate about, so I sat through it, diligently taking notes. And throwing the odd fuck you glance at Cameron Speight, the arsehole to my right who no matter how many times I said no to his advances, always took the opportunity to look down my top when I lent over my desk. I know I’m not exactly hard to look at, I keep myself active, I don’t have to wear a push up bra, but like I said, my morning routine consists… or consisted of a shower and breakfast. No 4 hours putting on make-up, and doing my hair, at most I might tie my hair up if drying it seemed like too much hard work. Why any guy would look at me when they’re surrounded by girls who should be modelling, always puzzles me, and sometimes pisses me off
After lectures I headed straight for my Karate class, I’d been learning since I was 16, now at 20 I was on my way to a black belt. In a part of my mind I imagined a very drunk version of Cameron, on a night out, thinking it would be a good idea to take a grab at me; and giving me the perfect chance to try out my moves. The class was great, I did my normal hour of training, Kata, sparring, and some pad work, then stayed the usual half hour with my trainer who 6 months ago had agreed to give me extra lessons of a more practical nature. A girl can never be too careful you know?
A thump on my shoulder rocked me from my daydream as I walked home, mentally running through some new techniques. As I span around I saw a girl no older than me, but a lot more done up, sprawling over the floor. Didn’t think I hit her that hard?
She was so busy scooping up the contents of what seemed to be a bottomless purse she didn’t seem to notice I was still there until I bent down to help.
‘Why don yah watch, whey’re tha fuck yoor gahwin?!’
I winced at the shrill, nasal tones, and turned to face the girl.
Her seemingly pretty face was now wrinkled with anger, her thick spread foundation cracking with what I can only assume was a rare change of expression from the usual duck faced pout.
‘Interesting way to say thank you.’ I said
‘Fuck you, yah fuckin dyke, wha’ yoo fink yoor sumin speshwl?’
The insult came as she stood and eyed me foot to neck, I looked down to revue my high-top Converse, baggy jeans and t-shirt, which in my defence, fitted over all the right curves.
In comparison her mini skirt, which was a little too mini to be called a skirt, and low cut top both of which could probably have been a size bigger judging by the her the excess “skin” bubbling at the edges, okay so she wasn’t fat, just, soft.
‘I’m sorry?’ I asked.
‘Fuckin righ’t yoor sorry, cunt!’
In situations like this I’m helpless, yes I’m articulate, and no I don’t exactly stand for being pushed around, anymore. But when confronted with a girl, dressed up like she’s about to audition for a porn film, shrieking insults at me in the middle of the street, it’s like my brain is staring back at me shrugging and saying: “I dunno.”
So after standing there staring for what was probably 30 seconds at the infuriated mutton chop, I decided to go for emergency plan B.
‘Piss off.’
And that was all the jumped up little twat got before I strolled off, desperately containing my now seething anger until I was out of her sight, best not to let her know she got to me, just contain it, like daddy’s good little girl… Fuck.
* * * *
Sitting outside the coffee house on Leicester Square I barely noticed how closely I was holding the warm mug, not that I was cold. Likewise I didn’t notice that although I usually let Peter do the talking on our meets, he had stopped, and we’d been sat in silence for who knows how long.
Instead I had been staring over his shoulder, just watching this spectacle of a girl. Not the tarty, over cooked spectacle I had just encountered. Instead she had a wonderful, Bohemian quality too her, like she had done her make up and hair that morning, and shopped for clothes that specifically did something for her appearance, but wore it all with a calm ease. Not the desperate plea that the girl from earlier seemed to be making, but a confidence in herself and her own form. Envy can really sneak up on you sometimes.
‘Kara?’ Peters’ voice crept into my focus
‘Hmm?’ I dozily answered
‘Where are you?’ He looked around behind him expecting to see something. He didn’t notice the girl, just looked back confused.
