Downwards Spiral

[Carlisle]

[S119 - Julia Guercio - continued from The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters]

Julia kicked through the pain, each step sharply piercing at her lungs as she gasped for breath – choking on the shadows of the tunnels. It was dimly lit, her silhouette imprinting on each corner like a rusted mirror maze. The tunnel itself felt chilly, reciprocating the icy glistening of her breathing. The air was damp and sinister, Julia feeling like a sewer rat as she skulked through the twisted tunnels.

She clung to the darkness, reliving each second of what had just happened, desperately trying to reason with herself against the unfathomable. Playing it over and over in her mind like it was stuck on repeat. Salem arriving, the unease she felt, through to him disturbing the peace. The shooting, the ice cream. Reminiscing on her jaded memories was like choking on glass, each bite more painful than the last. The final thing she remembered before entering these sunken depths was dragging Timothy out of the infirmary, the flurry of gunfire capturing every single tile in the room. She was gripping him tightly as she pulled him towards the exit, he was clinging to her hand. She had felt his warmth, somehow using it to summon her bravery. His pulse met hers haphazardly, desperate to keep ticking.

All she really wanted was to escape. Running away was the easy part, having to decide what to do next was that challenge. The part that tickled Julia with anguish. She had done enough to save herself, at least for now, but once again all that was left was solitude. She had found another unexpected friend and once again it backfired, and instead her friends wound up dead. The cruel twist of fate that Timothy was so close to that exit yet was nowhere to be found when she turned to look. Invisible to her longing eyes.

Julia continued down the tunnel until she could go no further, collapsing to her knees in tears. Succumbing to the fatigue, the trauma catching up with her as her mental state continued to deteriorate. She felt dazed; struggling to battle the very real prospect of Salem stalking her down through the winding tunnels. She stirred, grief hammering her down on all fours as she fell closer to the ground. The blinding isolation she experienced almost came as a relief, an uncompromising feeling of freedom emitting from her closing her eyes. The foggy darkness that surrounded her, contrasting the absolute darkness that came when she shut her eyes. That feeling that things would be ok. If she couldn’t see the terror unfolding, maybe the terror wouldn’t seek her out either. It was an unconvincing aura of power that fed on her tears, an ethereal tenderness that transformed her in to a ghost. The delicate radiance contrasting the murky shades of the tunnels. Timothy’s awkward smile haunting her vision at every turn, tangling intrusively with the grid of tunnels.

There were so many shots, each with its own unique flash of light and accompanying bang. The crazed gunfire had scattered the room mercilessly but Julia thanked lady luck for keeping her alive. Unfortunately, her unlikely ally vanishing seemed conclusive of his fatality. She sobbed silently, wishing more than anything she could’ve done more to save him. If he had been shot, she still had more bandages, nearly her entire first aid kit. She could’ve dragged him along with her and made sure he was ok. She reflected on the hours they spent together. He had been kind to her, shared his weapons and food without any prompting. In a situation which pitted them all against each other, where each announcement shared so many examples of brutality - too many examples of brutality - Timothy had found the positives in her and killed her not with guns or violence but with kindness. Somebody she had never spent any time with before showed her kindness, and what she did repay him with? Nothing. When it mattered, she couldn’t help him.

She had failed.

Like Always.

She wasn’t good enough.

She was never good enough.

Being the younger sister of a brainbox was a constant struggle. Battling the high expectations left by her parents, the unbridled eagerness for her to be even more impressive. Of course she loved her sister, more than anything, but growing up she had spent so much time wishing to be as great as she was, a deep resentment at having to try twice as hard just to achieve the same. As clever, as beautiful, or charismatic. Instead, she was the awkward middle child that represented a step down in standards. Her grades were good, but Marina was class valedictorian. She kept fit and did well in sports, but Marina had made the hockey A-team in her first semester at college. She was good fun at parties, but Marina was running the party. It didn’t ever seem to matter what she did, she was always going to be second-best to Marina.

She always tried to be good enough.

Tried to be better than her sister.

Tried so hard to be the best she could be.

Tried her hardest to make her parents proud.

And yet she never quite got there. Would her parents be proud of her now? Sat with her eyes closed in a corner of an underground tunnel, scared of her own shadows. The cameras probably honing in on her in their night vision mode, her repugnant stench of weakness radiating as it seeped in to the maze around her. She was useless at this. Even her greatest convictions were about running away, cowering in the face of danger. If she had fought back maybe it would’ve ended differently. Timothy…

She continued to cry to herself, reeling in self-pity as she longed for somebody to help her. Julia remembered coming home from middle school, running to her room and hiding under her bedsheets. The tears wouldn’t stop, her spirit vanquished by her bullies. Marina came to her room, she didn’t even hear her knock, to make it better. She was only a little bit older and yet presented herself with such maturity. That unprecedented guardianship that came with being the oldest sibling. That ability to make the problem go away. No matter what it was, Marina would be able to do that. She possessed the ability to soothe, to wipe away the last tears and to cheer Julia up. That is what she needed right now. She longed for that day, to be able to climb under her duvet and hide from her demons. To have that protector, her guardian angel, make all of this go away.

But Marina couldn’t do anything to help.

To save her from this madness.

Not this time.

Julia had to face her fears all by herself.

She had been cowering in the corner for too long. In the darkness everything appeared closer than it actually was. Her hallucinations worsening as she sensed Salem coming after her, his gun loaded and ready to inject her warm skin with the cold, silver bullets. The darkness was manipulative. Each turn cascading sharper than before as she scrambled to find the right path out of this hell. The choice was crucial, not knowing what or who she might find at the top of the staircase she decided to climb.

Her fears were spiralling, the tunnels closing in, trapping her in the brutal claws of the fox trap.

[S119 - Julia Guercio - continued in Dance of the Matador]