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The lamp post chewed into the front of the van.
Another car stopped and its headlights shone bright through the windows.
Broken class like crystals everywhere.
Something wet in his hair, and down his face.
Something wet on his hands. Slick fingers unable to work the seat belt.
On the plus side, nothing hurt.
That was peculiar…
A person standing outside, opening his door. Another person trying to open Teagan’s.
Teagan...
A strange and wordless, desperate sound crawling out of this throat.
His hands abandoning his seatbelt and reaching across. The girl, limp and in shadow. Her face in shadow.
She moved.
Good.
A person prying his door open with a screetch. The person’s hands- not wet and hot and clumsy- unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him out of the vehicle.
Sitting with the person on the side of the road looking at the van.
Teagan’s door refusing to open.
Some people helping to pull her out of the driver’s door.
Lots of shouting.
Teagan’s white hair dyed dark with blood.
But walking, her body supported by a tall person.
Trying to move. Joss trying to move. His person telling him to sit still.
Not listening.
This other girl here.
Teagan.
Dark hair. Red hair.
Teagan’s eyes opening and she reached him. Hands grasping, voice rasping.
“Teeg,” his own voice talking. Wet hands sliding off her arm, dark smudges like ink.
“Teagan hit her head,” Teagan’s voice, whispering. “She isn’t here.”
A siren in the distance. A siren? A phone ringing?
The pain manifesting slowly. Head, neck, chest, arm, hand, body, soul.
The ringing stopped. Voices.
Throwing up suddenly on the side walk. Hot, messy, pain in his throat. Burning in his throat, in his mouth. Warm down his chin, down his front.
Quite a lot of pain now.
Looking for the rewind button. Somewhere. This was a mistake. Searching for the remote. Trying to find a way to rewind and try again.
Very, very tired.
More voices.
His name, spoken out loud.
His name, in a familiar voice from far away.
His name, drawing him into the present, the reality, trying to tie him down. Trying to force him to live this thing when he knew he could be free. He could go back. Back in time. Back before he woke up, back before he left home, back before he found a redhead, dead in her blood on the carpet, back further, back before he found a brunette, dead in the ice of the bath. Back when he could sleep. Back before Leon left. Back before everything started to go so wrong.
Come on.
Joss.
Where was it.
Joss, talk to me.
Rewind.
Another car stopped and its headlights shone bright through the windows.
Broken class like crystals everywhere.
Something wet in his hair, and down his face.
Something wet on his hands. Slick fingers unable to work the seat belt.
On the plus side, nothing hurt.
That was peculiar…
A person standing outside, opening his door. Another person trying to open Teagan’s.
Teagan...
A strange and wordless, desperate sound crawling out of this throat.
His hands abandoning his seatbelt and reaching across. The girl, limp and in shadow. Her face in shadow.
She moved.
Good.
A person prying his door open with a screetch. The person’s hands- not wet and hot and clumsy- unbuckling his seat belt and pulling him out of the vehicle.
Sitting with the person on the side of the road looking at the van.
Teagan’s door refusing to open.
Some people helping to pull her out of the driver’s door.
Lots of shouting.
Teagan’s white hair dyed dark with blood.
But walking, her body supported by a tall person.
Trying to move. Joss trying to move. His person telling him to sit still.
Not listening.
This other girl here.
Teagan.
Dark hair. Red hair.
Teagan’s eyes opening and she reached him. Hands grasping, voice rasping.
“Teeg,” his own voice talking. Wet hands sliding off her arm, dark smudges like ink.
“Teagan hit her head,” Teagan’s voice, whispering. “She isn’t here.”
A siren in the distance. A siren? A phone ringing?
The pain manifesting slowly. Head, neck, chest, arm, hand, body, soul.
The ringing stopped. Voices.
Throwing up suddenly on the side walk. Hot, messy, pain in his throat. Burning in his throat, in his mouth. Warm down his chin, down his front.
Quite a lot of pain now.
Looking for the rewind button. Somewhere. This was a mistake. Searching for the remote. Trying to find a way to rewind and try again.
Very, very tired.
More voices.
His name, spoken out loud.
His name, in a familiar voice from far away.
His name, drawing him into the present, the reality, trying to tie him down. Trying to force him to live this thing when he knew he could be free. He could go back. Back in time. Back before he woke up, back before he left home, back before he found a redhead, dead in her blood on the carpet, back further, back before he found a brunette, dead in the ice of the bath. Back when he could sleep. Back before Leon left. Back before everything started to go so wrong.
Come on.
Joss.
Where was it.
Joss, talk to me.
Rewind.
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