Blood Entwines

by Caroline Healy

  Kara was unsure, glamoured by the girl in front of her. Ashleigh smiled, her perfect heart-shaped lips lifting at the corners. Jenny grinned at Kara, and Kara felt some of the knots loosen in her stomach. Maybe it would be OK.

  The prospect of the next few months – going to class alone, walking to the canteen alone, studying in the library alone – stretched out ahead of her. Would it be this easy? Could she just slot back into her old life?

  She searched their faces for censure, for something to hint at their disgust or disapproval. But she couldn’t find anything.

  Stop being paranoid, she told herself.

  ‘You coming to lunch?’ Jenny inclined her head in the direction of the canteen. Kara nodded and moved along with the crowd of students.

  As they rounded the corner of the corridor, her undoing approached from the other direction. Ben Shephard. They hadn’t spoken since the day of the accident. Kara wasn’t sure why.

  Ben walked with an easy stride down the corridor, his brown hair slicked back with the tiniest hint of gel. With one hand he rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, pulling the cuff of the white shirt up to his elbow. Ben always had his sleeves rolled, even in the depths of winter.

  Everyone liked Ben. He was that kind of guy.

  And he had almost been Kara’s date for the Halloween dance.

  She stared at the ground, studying her socks intently, cursing herself for not pulling them up when she’d noticed them earlier. She was struggling to breathe.

  ‘Hi, Kara.’

  She heard his greeting from across the corridor. He raised his hand and waved at her, a smile lighting his eyes. Kara felt Ashleigh stiffen beside her. She wondered if they were officially a couple now.

  ‘Hi, Ben,’ she mumbled, unable to hold his gaze for very long as he moved to stand next to them.

  I look a total mess, thought Kara, remembering her image from the mirror earlier. Why had she not done something with her hair? At least tried to make an effort?

  ‘I didn’t know you were coming back today.’ He glanced for a moment at Ashleigh. ‘Nobody told me.’

  Kara saw the exchange between the two of them and felt her heart tighten. He was obviously with Ashleigh and wanted Kara to know. Probably best to get things out in the open, not to have any awkwardness over a missed invitation to the dance.

  ‘It’s good to see you.’ He smiled kindly at her, a single dimple forming on his left cheek.

  Kara wondered if he felt sorry for her. Her stomach muscles clenched.

  ‘Um, ya. Thanks.’ Turning, she moved along the corridor into the throng of students pushing their way into the canteen. Having Ashleigh Jameson and Ben Shephard feeling sorry for her was the last thing she needed. Her cheeks burned and pinpricks of black danced in front of her eyes.

  Keep it together, she told herself, just keep it together.

  The canteen was jammed with students and the noise assaulted her as she entered the room. Kara could sense Ashleigh behind her and she wondered if the two of them were holding hands.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she muttered under her breath.

  She and Ben were friends. That was all. They had been lab partners at the beginning of the year; there had never been anything else between them. Nothing that she could ever have admitted to at least. The whole school knew that Ashleigh had her eye on Ben and that meant one thing. He was out of bounds.

  If that was the case, then why did she feel as if a fist was gripping her by the throat, cutting off her air supply? She wished he’d never asked her out in the first place. Things were better when there were no complications, when they were just friends. Fat lot of good he was as a friend. He never even bothered to come visit her in hospital.

  She felt like throwing something. Instead she moved into the canteen and joined the queue, aware that a large proportion of the student population was staring at her. This day was turning out just peachy.

  Slowly, whispered voices heralded her arrival and then a wave of silence rippled across the room. Kara could see some of the GCSE students at the far end of the canteen stand up to get a better view of her. She stopped in her tracks, unsure of what to do next, swallowing nervously.

  But Ben was behind her, a gentle hand placed on the base of her spine.

  ‘It’s cool. They’re staring at me,’ he whispered, his breath tickling the back of her neck. ‘It happens when you’re a football legend. You get used to it.’

  Kara smiled, rolling her eyes. ‘Dream on,’ she said, as they moved forward in the queue for food. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he was smiling. She wondered if Ashleigh had seen.

  Then it happened, what she knew was coming all along, since the day in the hospital when Jenny showed her that picture. Ashleigh would not stand for competition, no matter how slight.

  She manoeuvred herself in between Ben and Kara and, just loud enough for the first two rows of tables to hear, said, ‘You know, Kara, it’s great to have you back and I’m delighted that your hair is finally growing out, but just to let you know, as a friend, I think you shouldn’t let your appearance go totally. You look a little like a transvestite.’ Ashleigh touched the material of Kara’s jumper, fingering it with distaste. ‘You know I can help with fashion advice. Do something about your terrible hair.’

  Ashleigh smiled sweetly, a genuine look of concern plastered across her face. Her words were sugary with sincerity, laced with friendly undertones and sprinkled with just the right amount of sympathy.

  Jenny stiffened beside her friend and then uttered a titter, an acknowledgement of her allegiance to Ashleigh.

  Kara felt the room expand to the size of a football pitch, then crash in around her as if she were stuck in a lift with fifty other people jammed next to her. She swallowed, blinking her eyes twice, trying to focus.

  She was going to rip Ashleigh’s face off with a fork.

  ‘Kara,’ Ben touched her elbow. ‘You OK?’ The sympathy in his voice made Kara want to puke.

  ‘I’m fine. I’m just not very hungry any more. Excuse me.’

  She pushed past the queue in the canteen, elbowing her way out of the door. She made it to the bathroom, leaning over the sink. Her hands were shaking, a high-pitched screech in her ears.

  Her ex-best friend was a total maniac.

  ‘Get a grip!’ she growled at her reflection in the mirror. She would have to get her temper under control or she wouldn’t survive this term. Seeing Ashleigh and Ben together would be a common sight. There was no escaping this. Ashleigh and Ben were an item now.

  ‘But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.’ Her eyes blazed in anger as she stomped out of the bathroom. She was going to skip the last period, something she had never done before. Something the old Kara would never have dreamed of.

  The old Kara is dead.

  With this thought in her head, she pushed her way through the double doors out into the crisp winter day.

  She was going to smash the heel of her boot into Ashleigh’s pretty heart-shaped face. Not really, but a girl could daydream.

  ***

  His senses jumped to attention. He sniffed the air, straining his hearing: nothing remarkable, just the usual daytime noises.

  He kicked at some stones with the toe of his boot. All this waiting gave him a lot of free time to think, to remember. He didn’t like it.

  He flexed the muscles in his arm. They felt strong, but not as strong as they should feel.

  He should feel whole. Instead he felt as if he was missing something.

  Why hadn’t he killed her? The nurse waddling down the hallway, the alarm blaring, he had no choice but to step back from the doorway, into the shadows.

  Then a thought had occurred to him. What if he could just take it back?

  Then he wouldn’t have to kill her. He would just cut her and watch her bleed.

  He couldn’t access her personal details without a code. So he was forced to wait.

  But never mind – she was close. He could smell her.


  Soon.

  It was almost time.

  But first he needed to steal some food.

  Chapter Ten

  Kara walked down the street, focusing on her footfall, one in front of the other. It began to drizzle. Her anger had subsided and she relaxed a little, allowing the knots in her shoulders to loosen up. Lifting her eyes from the footpath, she looked around. Sparse yellow leaves, the remnants of the autumn, peppered the path, collecting in bundles next to walls, at the bases of trees, by the gates to people’s houses. Winter was here. She had missed out on a whole season and time hadn’t waited for her.

  There was a big oak tree, naked of leaves; she recognised where she was.

  ‘Oh.’ The single syllable escaped her lips.

  The road in front of her seemed the same as any other road, except for one detail. This particular road held her in its very fabric, bits of her, fibres from her clothes, fragments of her skin, her hair, even her blood. She stared and stared, black dots swimming in front of her eyes, a buzzing noise wrapping itself around her consciousness like a squeezing python. She was paralysed by a distant memory – her bare feet sinking into soft sand and her body floating endlessly at peace.

  Someone was screaming. She could hear it underneath all the other noises in her head. Goose bumps colonised the skin along her arms. So much to process – layers of emotion peeled one over the other. Was it possible to have one singular thought or was it always going to be like this, a constant barrage of thoughts and counter-thoughts, like a game of chess battling on in her brain?

  Her legs buckled; the road seemed to grow blacker, yawning foully before her, trying to swallow her up. In her veins, a fiery pain flared, rushing against her insides. The air around her turned arctic and pressed against her sensitive skin; her clothes rubbed irritatingly; every minor movement of her body tormented her. She stood shaking, staring at the road, feeling her body being engulfed in icy flames.

  A flash of light pounded through her skull, blinding her, ripping through her brain, through her eardrums, through her whole body, coursing with insistence till it seemed to fill every particle of her. As she slowly ebbed into the folds of unconsciousness, she realised that the piercing scream, which now magnified itself in her battered eardrums, was her own. It ripped through everything within range, shattering the docile neighbourhood silence.

  She failed then, in her attempt to hang on through the pain, she sank into the blackness, her body slumping on the dark, rain-spattered tarmac.

  ***

  He watched her from the other side of the street, his presence shielded by the overhang of the leafless branches. He could smell her. His body began to heat up, the blood writhing within him.

  He pressed his hand against the tree trunk, his nails digging into the bark. What was happening?

  On the breeze the sound of her scream carried easily to his sensitive ears and pierced his skull.

  His blood began to pulsate in his veins, shifting, rolling, tumbling against his insides. He balled his hand into a fist and pounded it against the sturdy trunk. This couldn’t be happening. Not this kind of connection, not with her. The blood, it had taken root, in her veins. It called to him, teasing him, goading him. The pain was his blood straining for hers, straining to reunite. His nearness was like a catalyst, accelerating the change.

  Why hadn’t he killed her when he’d had the chance?

  He turned and limped slowly down the road. With each step he felt a lessening of the pressure, a relieving of the discomfort. He would need to bleed her soon. If he waited much longer, who knows what would happen?

  He swung his leg over the bike and kicked it into gear. He had to get out of here.

  He needed to prepare. The pain – he would have to figure out how to deal with that.

  He had made a big mistake. Another one. When would he ever learn?

  ***

  Something irritating tickled Kara under her cheek. She huffed in annoyance. Probably her pillow needed plumping. A gust of wind rippled over her and she realised, in a moment of pure panic, that she was not in bed.

  A burning in her throat reminded her of the piercing scream that had shattered the silence – her piercing scream. She groaned with new awareness as she tried to get her eyelids to function. She was on the footpath, under a tree. Clammy hands seemed to be all over her, touching her forehead, her arms, her legs. She was not alone.

  Ugh, she thought with revulsion, get off me.

  She forced her eyes open and recoiled in horror, a face, so close she could see the pores. Every intricate detail flooded her vision: a spot bubbling up underneath the skin at the chin, two enormous hazel eyes shaded with concern, looking at her. She reached out her hand to push the face away. But her hand never made contact.

  ‘Kara?’

  The voice familiar.

  ‘Kara,’ the voice continued. ‘Are you all right?’

  She lifted her head slightly from the cold ground. She pushed her hand in front of her to get him to move out of her personal space, so she could breathe a bit easier. Her hand didn’t touch him.

  ‘Here. Here,’ he urged. ‘Let me help you.’

  His voice was loud, booming. She cringed as it assaulted her sensitive eardrums. A hand reached out to her shoulder and helped her into a vertical position. She rested her back against the tree trunk for support. She could feel damp from the grass seeping through her skirt. She tried to focus her wayward attention on her helper. Her vision swam, but there were no black dots, just intimidating detail.

  She forced her eyes to focus on her surroundings. Bewildered, she noted that a small but intent group of spectators had gathered around her. Mrs Corey from down the street was there, her little poodle sniffing around Kara’s feet, its impatient huffs of breath loud to her ears. Two students from the year below were staring with wide eyes, memorising the scene, no doubt to be retold in exaggerated detail as soon as they got home.

  Kara shuddered under everyone’s inspection, under all the watchful eyes. She turned her attention to the person in sharp relief in front of her before flinching. Ben Shephard leaned towards her, his eyes searching her face for some clue as to her distress.

  Her first thought was that Ben Shephard was not perfect: he gets spots like the rest of us.

  A second thought jumbled its way into her head: Why is it like looking at him through a magnifying glass?

  The group of spectators had formed a half circle of expectation round her, yet all she could think of was their detail, so crisp – from the hue of their skin to the creases in their clothes. One of the kids, she observed, had a small hole in his shirtsleeve, it peeked out from under the cuff of his jumper.

  It was all so precise. Kara could see everything, hear everything – the birds in the canopy of branches overhead, the cars driving a few streets away, the sound of someone emptying their bins. The scent of freshly cut grass overpowered her, someone’s body odour equally so.

  A soft whine escaped from the dog, he looked at her expectantly, his head titled to the side waiting, watching.

  Kara shifted her weight and moved gingerly away from the support of the tree, while Ben gripped her arm. She smiled sheepishly at him. She was mortified – of all the people who had to be nearby – and silently cursed her ill luck.

  ‘Wow, Kara, you gave us a really big fright. You were screaming your head off. I could hear you down the end of the street. I thought you were being attacked.’

  ‘Ya,’ interjected one of the students. ‘Then you fell down and started twitching like crazy, having some kind of fit.’

  Ben shot him a look to shut him up. Kara cringed as she tried to shake his hand loose of her elbow.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I fainted or something.’

  ‘Some fainting spell that was, young lady,’ Mrs Corey said from the edge of the group. ‘I could hear you from my back garden, six houses away.’ She nodded in the opposite direction. ‘I thought someone was being murdered.’

  ‘T
hanks for that,’ said Ben dismissively as he led Kara away from the gathered spectators, gently maintaining his hold on her elbow. The older lady tutted to herself, muttering something about ‘young people nowadays’ as she moved away. Obviously satisfied that nothing untoward was happening, she summoned her dog with a sharp whistle. The whistle pinched Kara’s eardrums mercilessly.

  The little group disbanded as Kara hobbled stiffly down the street. Ben watched her expectantly.

  ‘What?’ she asked, a little sharper than she intended.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘You just look . . .’

  She glared at him.

  ‘. . . a bit pink.’

  He laughed quietly to himself as she squirmed in irritation.

  ‘Come on.’ He inclined his head once in the direction of her house. ‘I’ll see you home.’

  How does he know where I live? This had been one of her fantasies before, being escorted home by Ben Shephard, but now the reality of the situation seemed decidedly inferior. She realised she had a wet patch on the back of her skirt from sitting under the tree.

  Kara wanted to get home as quickly as possible to deter anything else embarrassing happening to her. She was almost certain she had road dirt stuck to her cheek and haphazard leaves from the tree matted into her uneven hair. Ben probably felt sorry for her after the scene in the canteen. Kara folded her arms across her chest, conscious of the proximity of the boy next to her.

  She sniffed the air. A great many smells filled her nostrils, the strongest of which was Ben’s deodorant, strong and spicy, but underneath that was another smell, slightly unpleasant, something sickly sweet. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it irritated her. She wondered what it was.

  He looked down at her, smiled a lopsided grin. She averted her gaze and stared at the cracks in the footpath.

  ‘Kara, I wanted to . . . Well, I wanted . . .’