♟️seven | Aella

♟️Intro (Infected) by Sickick

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It took awfully longer than I expected to get every little crushed bloodied remain of his body from the damned cabin, and Tristan took care of taking out what was on the wood crusher, given his experience with... crushing dead bodies in it. When we were done, the gloves I was using had been reaped when I tried taking a part of his intestines from the crusher, and I had to just do it the way Tristan was doing it. Which will leave me traumatized for life, undoubtedly.

I also cut my hand when the glove was cut, but I ignored it and pretended not to, taking advantage of how I was covered in blood. It took so long that the blood had started drying all over me, especially on my face, hair, and hands. We didn't speak another word to one another, it was past midnight when we filled the buckets with it all.

Then, he began to take the six to a boat that was anchored on the part of the cabin that was touching the lake, and the idea of him going to the lake, in that little boat, with all that weight with him, gave me goosebumps. The nightmare kind. Fear creeping inside of my very bones, especially when he turned to me and said, "Get in."

My feet got cemented in the cabin, "No."

"No?" He frowned. "Just get in here, Aella, you killed him, you will help me throw him to the piranhas. But for that, we need to go to the middle of the lake, hence why the boat. So, get your bloody arse in here."

"I will not get in this damned boat," I hissed, the sheer idea of getting in it making me want to die instead, my fear of deep water sinking its claws on my very soul.

Tristan got up from the boat, jaw clenched and angry, and came to where I was, grabbing me by my right forearm, "Get in."

"I said no!" I yelled, hyperventilating, fighting against him.

"I won't throw you in the damn lake, Aella, fucking damn it, just get the fuck in!"

"No!" I pushed against him. "Get off!"

But he didn't listen to me, he grabbed me effortlessly out of the cabin and dragged me into the boat with him, throwing me at the other extremity where there were four of the six bucks, as he sat where there was only two, and before I could even do anything about it, we were getting out of the shore.

"See? It wasn't that bloody hard!" He hissed.

But I had no attention to pay to his words, my eyes widening and twitching as I looked around, seeing deep dark water all around me, my hands gripping the edges of the boat tighter, so tight my knuckles paled, desperate to stable me out of land. My legs and arms began to shake, and it wasn't because of the chilly early October midnight wind, just as my jaw clenched tight and everything around me froze, anything but the feeling of imminent death that constricted my throat.

All I could was that I was going to fall and die, that the boat would wrack and Tristan would save himself by swimming, while I would drown and be eating by the piranhas for being covered with blood, all because I killed Christian Alec Beaufort. My vision got blurry as I stared at the lake and I struggled to breath, my lungs constricted and burning. Cold sweat formed in my skin and my tears rolled down my eyes.

Haunting memories of a nightmare flashing through my mind, blinding my sight, confusing my mind with what had happened then and what was happening now.

Memories of two days before my mother went into labor when she was pregnant of the twins, when she told father to take me to Toronto with him for his work travel on the weekend, because I was sad and beating myself up after falling into 2nd place in my first small ice skating competition in the city. She told him to take me to ice skate where they had when he first took her to Toronto.

It was supposed to be a happy father-and-daughter weekend, he had his work reunion from 7 am to 5 pm on a Friday, and then he came back to the hotel afterwards to take me ice skating, it was early December, winter, and the lake he took me to was frozen. He said it would be fun, he said he had gone there before with mom, that they had ice skated together, and that they would take me there again when the twins grew old enough for me to teach them to ice skate. I had just turned 6 years old the previous month.

And I was happy, it was probably the last time I was happy in my life, with no reservations.

Dad had presented me a new pair of baby blue skates in my 6th birthday, so I was using them, I was all in black and blue, my signature colors, and he had braided my hair in two German braids. We'd had blueberry muffins with jasmine tea before going to this lake. I was excited and I trusted my dad when he said the lake was the safest in the world, so I went on first, skating my heart out, he came.

There was a sudden storm.

Thunder.

Ice breaking when I was far away from him.

A lake alive underneath the ice surface, a strong current taking me out of his reach.

Then I was drowning, the weight of the skates and of my winter jackets grabbing me further down the deep lake, my weak arms hopelessly trying to reach for the shadow of my father that I could see far above me.

Freezing water crawling into my mouth, my nose, my ears, trying to bury me within it.

Darkness hugging me in its cold embrace.