Callie
Fear. It crawled down your throat, entering your lungs and infecting your blood. It never truly faded; just waiting until you were weak once more. Fear of the basement, of that one dark corner in your parents house. Fear of death. Lilly didn’t used to think she feared death. She was religious, she knew she was going to Heaven. She knew she would keep on, keep thinking, keep breathing, even if her heart stopped. Wasn’t Heaven just another way of living? She did not fear death, not until it was staring her in the face, Callie’s body lying bleeding and broken beside her, and a knife coated in red staring her in the face.
That’s when she believed in death. She saw it for what it really was, an ugly sleep. Eternal nothingness. And now her best friend was subjected to it. How did this happen? They were having a good night, walking through the park near their old school, seeing their 10 year old selves running around and playing house. Then he came out of nowhere, holding that knife. Lilly hadn’t been scared, she did not think she was going to die. She did not think everything would stop. But he didn’t go for her, the smaller and weaker one.
He went for Callie. The peson who knew Lilly inside and out. The person who was a black belt in karate. Now she was lying, near dead, three feet from where they first met. Lilly was rendered useless, frozen in fear, staring at that knife. The blood dripped off it, drip drip drip, soaking the grass. She couldn’t even scream. And she felt fear. She knew fear. She realized that this was it; she was never going to wake up again.
The Callie stood up, wielding her own knife. Lilly felt relief flood her body, almost collapsing. But Callie brought that knife up to Lilly’s neck, and Lilly felt a new fear, fear of what had become of the girl she once knew.