))The two, she and Diana, were sat on the floor of this boat together, leaned against the wall, waves rocking them, just like a day or so ago. Hand in hand. Morning sun illuminating them. Diana's wrist pulsing beneath Britnee's thumb, mercifully.
Heavy puffs of air still emanated from Britnee's lungs, more than a few minutes after arriving here. Part of it was Britnee still trying to catch her breath after, what, a couple hours or so? of running for her life, running from her fucking... from Emmett. From that guy. Another part of it was that, like, it lowkey, kinda, somewhat felt difficult to breathe. Just the, uh, the throbbing pain in her side, the pain she really, really didn't want to think about. And also, there'd been this rusty odor that had followed them the entire way through, and she knew damn well what it was, but, it'd taken on this sick sweet tinge when they entered this boat. Like the metal was rotting, kinda.
Her eyes drifted over to the boy laying a few feet adjacent from them. The dark something coagulated under his head. The dark streaks of something smeared across the floor, marking the entranceway of this boat.
She knew.
So, there Britnee was, one announcement later, pulling in this tainted, poisoned air greedily because, even though they'd been sat in this boat for several hours at this point, it was the first time the entire night she'd felt rest, the first time she'd felt like Emmett or his friend wasn't on their heels. Cute pink shirt fucking ruined, to be honest, but for the first time, that kinda thing kinda didn't matter. She sat there, pulling air in, having just barely escaped with her life, and yet it felt like... it felt kinda like when you get a good jog in. Burned off a few calories. Or, uh, when you finally fold all the clothes and finish rearranging all the shelves in your little minimum-wage job and you could finally close up shop for the day. All sweaty and all, but you did a thing. You're done. You did something good.
She felt vaguely accomplished.
Diana's blood, still pulsing under Britnee's thumb. Still racing through her veins.
Britnee's eyes drifted over to her friend. The good feeling dissipated, a bit. Emmett or his friend, one or the other, they'd fucking shot Diana in the fucking face. Her cheek grazed, and the top of her ear just fucking blown off. Superficial, she guessed, but God. She'd spent a good portion of last night putting pressure on the wounds, wrapping gauze around the wounds, putting some damn good work into the wounds, making sure they didn't bleed her out. Diana had done the same for her, put layers of gauze, tape over the side of her stomach. They both were breathing, alive. But just.
She'd wanted so badly for something to happen when they'd left their boat, the day before. She'd gotten her wish and then some.
Some guilt came with that thought. Like, if she hadn't agreed to leaving their refuge the day before, if she hadn't fucked around and gotten herself stuck on the cargo floats the night before, then maybe Diana would be hurt. She was alive, but she was hurt, and she'd wanted something to happen, so maybe God or some other higher power had heard her wish and granted it and part of her felt vaguely responsible for it all. Silly thoughts, Diana would call her out on her bullshit or some shit like that if she ever gave voice to those thoughts, but still they lingered.
She didn't want that to happen again. She didn't want Diana to get hurt again. They had to be better prepared, next time Emmett or some other fuck came by.
Britnee's hand suddenly gripped tighter onto Diana's wrist. Diana looked over, she fixed her gaze.
"Dee. Look, uh. We have to talk now, you know that, right? You- uh, we can't sidestep it like we did before. We don't have time. We have to talk. About what we're- how we're going about this. All this."
