A Sort of Reunion [Chaos]

♥

The snarl takes me by surprise. I expected a lot, but not that. With a mangled cry of fear, I jump backwards, trying as best I can to put more distance between myself and her. The exposed teeth - no, fangs - don't help in matters. For some incomprehensible reason, the teeth bring about an image that is more jarring than any of the previous ones. I can't decipher the image - I just know that it means nothing good.

There's a dull aching in the pit of my stomach as I take in the crimson colour on the otherwise perfectly white teeth. She does not drink blood, does she? I tried to calm myself, attempting to go through a list of reasons why a sane person would certainly not do this. But maybe if this is really Hell things like this happen? I've never believed in an afterlife before. I guess it should have crossed my mind at some point because death happens to the best of people. The Hunger Games show that much. I don't know if the Hunger Games have started already. They must have? What year is it... 55? 56?

But then she speaks. I blink. I'm not dead? I knew it. Carefully, I smile. "Okay. That's good then. I thought... well, nevermind now." Stupid mind. So, we're both alive. But what happened? Why am I here? Why is she here? Most importantly: who is she? Question after unsolvable question races through my mind. I'm irrtated. I want to know, I hate not knowing something. With a groan, I put my face in my hands. Clearly I am missing something here. Like a puzzle piece. I should know this stuff. I remember something. Trig. Trig. Trig is running. I look up slowly.

"Where's Trig?" If he ran away, then I am remembering something. "I saw him... I remember him... he ran away." Then it hits me. She has something to do with all of this. He ran away and it's her fault.

The blanket is scratchy, certainly not as soft as I would have liked. It itches against my skin but I don't dare be that undressed again in front of this stranger. It's bad enough that she saw me like that once, I don't need a repeat of that. Swallowing, I lick my lips as I attempt to grasp at my dim memory.

"I was friend. We... we fell in love. Father d-didn't like, but still did. Remember?"

She was a friend? I shake my head. No, I don't remember. "I don't remember," I say, enunciating the words with as much care as I can. Maybe she is as confused as I am and only thinks that she knows me when really she doesn't. In that case she might actually be crazy. "I had a friend, but I haven't seen her ever since she was twelve. She must be... old now." I shrug my shoulders. I've given up on that friend by now. "What did you say your last name was?"

♥

I'm sitting on the steps outside of school. Mum is late picking me up once again. She always picks me up because she says it is not smart to be out alone, especially in winter. I don't mind, not really. There's soft snow falling, tickling my skin by my ear as it nestles there. Mother cut my hair short because she said it was growing too wild. "No child of mine will look like a street urchin," she proclaimed just before wielding that giant pair of scissors. So, half an hour and many, many tears shed later, my hair was off. Red tendrils mixing with the checkered tiles. I pull my wool hat down lower over my ears in an attempt to protect my skin from the ice cold wind. When I look back up, I notice yellow eyes watching me in the distance. I smile, slowly, tentatively.

- - -

Her answer does not count as sufficient in my book. My eyes flicker furiously and I draw back from her, accusation painted clear on my face. "Scared," I repeat. "What. Happened," I demand through teeth that are pressed together. I don't know why I can't remember. I don't get anything, not really. But what I do understand that this strange person with the raven hair and the yellow eyes knows more than she is letting on. This knowledge, that she knows so much more than I do, doesn't sit with me right.

- - -

I tilt my head, curiously to one side as the figure slowly walks forwards. I've seen her before. She's older than I am, she's in grade four. She must be nine now. To me it seems really grown up. Nine years is a whole... I quickly do the math in my head, two years older than my seven years. I usually only see her briefly before she disappears as if she was never there. She looks shy and I decide that she looks lonely. So I beckon her over. I don't really want to be all alone, plus, she seems interesting enough and I don't have many people I talk to generally. "Hey, you! Come over here... please?"

- - -

For a second I am captured in the moment, not quite registering what is happening. Her scent is enthralling but my mind tells me that no, no, NO, this is not at all right! I did not consent to this! So, having spured my overwhelming rational side, instinct butts in and I tug away and swiftly slap her. Realizing just what I have done, I gasp, pulling my hands to cover my mouth. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry. I didn't... I'm sorry." But it's too late. I can detect the wounded look in her eyes. I did not mean to do that... I was just caught unawares. And then I hear the name. The name that means so much to me.

Tammy Cooper.

- - -

"I'm Tammy Cooper." I nod. I heard the name before. So I shake my hand out of my glove and reach for her hand. Mother told me that it's what respectable people do. I squint my eyes against a couple of stray snow flakes. "Where's your mum? What are you doing out alone?" When she doesn't answer I narrow my eyes and cautiously pull my hand back out of her grasp. "So... do you want to be my friend?" I don't know exactly what makes me ask it, but I say it casually. It seems as if it is the right thing to say. I push a tendril of red hair out of my face and grin at her. "We can also be best friends, if you like. I've never had one of those." Remarkably, it does not strike me as particularly odd that the girl I want to be best friends with and I have never exchanged a word prior to this.

- - -

I draw away from her, further on the sofa, in shock. My eyes widen as the realization slowly hits me. "Oh my God." I choke on the last word. I blink and look at her. The thick hair that I've always envied her for. The mysterious, yellow eyes that I first noticed about her. The tan skin, so unlike my own pale one. "Tammy..." Choke. Gag. Blink. "What happened to us?"

♥

I wish desperately that I could take back the slap, but of course that would be impossible. So instead I focus on the chips in my nails. That's much easier to do than look at the tears in her eyes. I don't know how to place the tears. I'm sure the slap can't have hurt all that much, I didn't exactly punch her... but maybe it's something else. Maybe I hurt her more than I intended, emotionally and not physically. And somehow that realisation makes it all that much worse. I just nod when she apologises, though it's not a real apology. I don't even feel a twinge of annoyance that she isn't apologising for practically jumping me.

I look up instantly when I hear an unnatural sound coming from her direction. Worry. Why am I worried? I hardly even know her. For someone reason I care that I wounded her. She looks severely distraught and slightly surprised at the sound she made. She attempts to muffle the sound with her hand and I automatically reach out for her. Realising what I'm about to do, I pull my fingers into a tight clench and pretend as though I was just stretching. Humiliation burns on my face as she attempts to form words and runs. I place my hands over my face, struggling to stop myself from tearing at my red strands in frustration. What happened...

- - -

The snow is falling thick and fast now. It's growing ever darker and I'm sure that mother is just running extremely late. The lamps have flickered into life, buzzing with the sound of a hundred flies as the poor electricity is supplied. I look up at it, noticing the transition it is plunging my surroundings into. The light rebounds off of the snow, casting deep shadows into her and my faces. She's sitting next to me now. She seems silent, almost contemplative. "So what do best friends do?" she asks quietly. I open my mouth to answer but it instantly falls closed again as I realise that I really have no idea. I never thought much about that.

"I guess... I think that best friends ought to be together forever, ya know?" I smile, thinking of all the good that can come of having a best friend. "I also think that best friends tell each other everything. I mean, everything." I reach out and clasp her hand in mine. She looks at me, at first startled and then appraising. "Best friends also share things with each other. You can share my pencil case, if you like. It's special, it's from District Eight," I whisper, as if sharing some fantastic secret.

- - -

Get up. You're so self-involved.

I growl, annoyed that my conscience that has thus far abandoned me completely, is deciding to help me now.

And what? I can't remember. We were friends, best friends. What then? How did it turn into this? What became of her? What about father? Mother? Trig? I can't remember my own life!

Question after unanswerable question races through my mind and I shake my head from side to side as if trying to free myself from the pestering thoughts.

Go to her. Goddammit, she can answer those questions. She knows the answers, she knows them all. You have to show her that you want to know. Go.

Without dwelling any further on my thoughts, I'm out of the front door. It's only when I've reached the porch and when the cold wind hits my skin with more force than initially anticipated, that I notice that I am practically naked. In public. Thankfully it's too early for any of my neighbours to be gracing the day. She's begun to talk already. I pull my arms around myself, offering comfort and a pathetic attempt at warmth.

"I... Tammy... I know that we were happy together. I remember things from... way back. Do you remember when we first met? I was..." I close my eyes as though pained, trying to remember. "I was seven, you were nine. I asked you if you wanted to be my best friend and you said yes. Then you asked me what a best friend does and I did not know. Not at first. Best friends stay together, always, remember?" She holds out her arms and I don't think things over in my mind. The cold drives me towards her and am over by her side in seconds. Her skin instantly appears to warm mine. I still feel strange though, so I stand awkwardly apart, tracing letters into the wood on the porch. "I don't remember. But I remember that. I also remember that I always liked you." I feel so tired. I know that she does to. "What happened after dad threw you out. I never saw you again after."

♥

Maybe I expected a bit less. Sure, I expected a lot, but I certainly did not expect quite this much at such an overwhelming rate. It starts of easy enough. I remember the fight with my father all of those years ago. I remember missing her and the starting not to care anymore. It was always comforting, not having to care anymore.

The woods. I don't remember much. There's a boy, well, he's almost a man. There was a lot of blood involved, fear is reflected on the boys' face and then I see who the source of the fear is. It's Tammy. She looks fierce and dangerous, she looks feral. It comes to me in broken images, like reflections in a shattered mirror - slowly being shaped back together. I can hardly place them, it hurts me physically to see all of this.

I feel a little detached. It's as if there is one of me, the one who experienced all of this and then there is me. I don't like to believe that I can't even remember this, that my only source of truth it from this girl who might as well be lying. But my conscience does not return to give me any helpful words.

Mother is dead. There is only a dull aching pain in my center, but it's not as numbing as it should be. I'm only briefly shocked, somehow I expected this. She's dead. That's it. No grief, no tears, no disbelief. This happened, this is real. This is all real.

And slowly I remember.

She does not even have to tell me about the imprisonment. The party, the terrifying Peacekeepers clad all in white scare me all over again. It's as if it only happened yesterday. The weeks that followed after her imprisonment was pure horror. But I remember, it's all that counts! I am so relieved, I could have hugged somebody. But unfortunately that somebody looks as if she just saw a ghost. I pause, looking up at her through my lashes, trying to predict what comes next. But I can't. There's only darkness. The very same frightening darkness that I experienced before, when I first saw Tammy Cooper after waking up this morning. I can't remember this far. But why?

"The l-last piece of puzzle needs... needs help to understand. Come."

Without any hesitation, I follow her around the back of the house. I look duly at the mound of dirt. I still can't place all of this. When she starts explaining, it clicks in my mind. She killed him. Buried him. He's gone, he's dead. I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt in desperate vain to remember that night. But I can't. It's impossible. I have to take her word for this, it's as though it never happened. Anything could have happened, really.

I know that she's a cannibal now. I've always known about her... affliction. Well, not the flesh-eating part. When I was a child, I sensed that she wasn't completely normal. She was around me. She was happy, friendly around me. Other people, especially other school children were scared of her. They stayed away from me when I was around Tammy. I never got it. My mother told me, then I was nine, that she is schizophrenic. "No, she's not. Not around me, she isn't.". So that was always that, end of story. She calmed down around me and I was so jubilant to have her that the accusations never made any sense.

And now this.

I swallow and look at her. I can see that she is afraid. Of what? That I'll leave her? I thought I made that promise a long time ago. But even as I try to open my mouth to say something, a strangled sigh of some sort comes out. I clamp my mouth back shut again and stare transfixedly at the pile of soil under which my father is buried. It's strange. I feel an ounce of sadness... I never got along well with him, but his ending seems unsuitable. Ironic even. But not the way I would have liked. I wished for him to rot away on his toxic bottles of wine and beer and spirits. But not like this, not my girlfriend. I kick at a stray rock on top of the mound and turn away. Without another word, I walk back into the house and over to the sofa in the living room.

Mechanically, robotically, I sit down and pull the blanket around my body so tightly that it feels almost like a straitjacket. My eyes are dry, yet I feel like I am crying in earnest. I rock backwards and forwards in my sitting position. I found out too much today, too much in too short of a time. Mother. Dead. Father. Dead. Brother. Gone. Girlfriend. Cannibal. What next?

I hear her enter the room and I clear my throat and absently play with a strand of bright hair. "And what are you scared of, Tammy?"

♥

The rough fibres of the blanket feels strangely comforting between my fingers. With almost meticulous obsession, I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste the blood I've drawn there. Thick and warm I swallow and am suddenly startled by her fingers softly tracing the skin of my cheekbone. Instead of pulling away, I just close my eyes with a shudder and lean into her touch.

My eyes closed, I still feel her presence so closs to me. My head screams in yearning for her but I keep my eyes pressed together. I don't think I can listen to her saying all of those beautiful things and look at her as well, not without humiliating myself completely.

I was anticipating her answer and I almost laugh out loud. Of course that wouldn't have been appropriate given the situation.

"I'm not leaving. You don't have anything to be scared of," I say. When I open my eyes, I don't even start at seeing her in such close proximity to my face. I can see every last pore on her face, the long, ghastly scar that never striked me as unusual before. I never even noticed her blemishes, never acknowledged the rough souvenirs that marked her face. I always managed to see past them, to notice what I so many others endeavor to find in her. Beauty. And she is, to me she is the most magnificent person on Earth. Slowly, the corners of my mouth lift into a smile.

"I made that promise ten years ago. I'm not about to go back on it." Then, after tracing the grisly scar on her face with my fingers, I give a sigh that incorporates all of my longing, my exhaustion and something else. Something much deeper. I lean in and touch my lips to hers. Immediately I know that I have made the right decision. That casting her away would have been a dire mistake. That we'll have to work around everything that went wrong, that this puzzle that is still in the process of being repaired but that she'll be there if I need her.

Even after I pull away, I linger only mere centimeters from her, my lips still softly grazing hers. I push one of the dark strands of hair behind her ear. "You're so beautiful, Tams." I kiss her once more and then lean away, focusing on keeping my thoughts clear and well away from... certain things.

"Best friends stay together forever, hm?" I ask, with a teasing glint.