Chapter Text
Sophia threw up the first time she sunk the switchblade Simon had given her years ago into something else's throat. She felt the blade part through too easy and then snag when it hit that hard tendon. She blinked dumbly at the warm wet spray in her face.
Sophia didn't realize she'd kept sawing until all the screaming and struggle had stopped- and maybe the stillness after was worse. She staggered on her feet, chest rising and falling harshly from the physical strain. The handle was tight enough in her closed fist that the knuckles went white; tight enough to be grounding. Maybe. Another deep muscle shiver racked her frame. The room smelled like salted iron, so heavy in the air she could fucking taste it.
Sophia breathed out slow, pressing her eyes closed until it blurred the scattered spots on the black under her lids. She stood there, trying to convince herself that this skin was her skin, that these hands were her hands. All she could register was the red crusted under her nails, sticky and heavy.
Through wet lashes she could hardly make sense of the mangled distorted body of what had attacked her. Underneath a glossy rug spread across the floor, into the lines of the rotted out wood.
"Fuck." She breathed, backing up until her back hit the wall with a thump and she couldn't get any further.
At the point of contact with the wall she'd dropped her switchblade with a start like it was burning hot; searing the skin on her palm clean off. It clattered to the floor and she heaved. She felt her stomach's contents rise up her throat and fell to the ground on her knees hard.
Sophia was sick to her back teeth.
She could feel herself have nothing else to give, but still gagged. Warm acidic bile drooled out her mouth and the seconds were deafening, like she could each one tick into her skin. All nerves stood on end, frayed.
And then- her cellphone chirped quietly, muffled in her back pocket. That meant it had service again. A bit of her voice pushed out her throat in a choked sort of sound. Something like disbelief and maybe some hope. For what? She stared at the cracked screen, the dim blue light washing her face. Like muscle memory- like instinct, her fingers moved to dial the first ever number she'd memorized. Please pick up.
The monotone ring cut through the blood roaring in her ears and she didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until she heard Simon's voice.
"Sophia?"
