@cursivebloodlines or @iaindecaesteckcr

Lydia kept her eyes on the man, her posture rigid as he took a tentative step forward causing her to snap into action. She remembered the heavy weight in her hands: the gun she held and she raised it, pointing it at him. Her fingers curled around the trigger, ready to shoot point blank at any given moment. One step out of line and she would shoot him point blank. No questions. “Don’t you dare move,” Lydia asserted coldly, her voice sharp. “Stay where you are.” This seemed to do the trick. Then again, pointing a gun at someone would typically have that effect on someone.

“Lydia, I need you to listen to -” Andrew attempted to get the words out but already, the questions from her were brewing. She needed answers as if her life depended on it. One way or another, she would get them. 

“No. You listen,” The woman snapped. Then, a pause. “You know my name. And you act as if you know me. Why?” She demanded, eyes glued to his as she inhaled deep breaths to maintain composure. Clearly, he knew her from somewhere. And he seemed so familiar to her. She knew him – she knew that she knew him. She felt drawn to him, as if there was a gravitational pull that made her need to know more. She craved answers like an addiction. But it didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Andrew hesitated; one look into his eyes and she could see him fighting an inner battle, like he was trying to decide whether or not to tell her. Clearing her throat to gain his attention, to bring him back to reality, she stated firmly, “I won’t ask twice.”

He swallowed thickly, nodding once. The guy looked he was about to burst. As if he was holding so much back. And why was he looking at her like that? “Because I do know you.” Lydia narrowed her eyes at his response and waited for him to continue. “Your name is Lydia Collins and I do know you. You’re my girlfriend.”

 A laugh bubbled in her throat, tumbling from her lips as it echoed through the room. A wry smile etched on to her face, Lydia shook her head in disbelief. Girlfriend? Ludicrous. “Yeah, right. You wish.” A ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips, she noticed, but disappeared just as fast as he seemed to notice that she was still fixated on him. “What is it?” She asked, curiosity sparking rather than hate, or resentment, or anything else. It almost looked as though he was sharing an inside joke. And she wanted to know what it was. After all, with a gun pointed at their head, what could they find remotely amusing? 

“Nothing it… It sounded like something you would say.”

Lydia tensed yet again. Why would he say that? Of course it sounded like something she would say. She was Lydia. She is herself. What was he implying? That she wasn’t… who she was? That didn’t make any sense at all. And the more she reiterated it in her mind, the less sense it made. Was he trying to trick her into believing him? Why would he do that? What was his endgame here? To mess with her head? She didn’t understand. There were so many pieces. Gaps. So many things she couldn’t understand if she tried. All she knew was there was a man standing before her, claiming to be her boyfriend. Others who approached her days before tried to provoke her. Something about being a different version of herself. Being part of a different reality. Memories replaced. Things that were scientifically impossible. They were the same people who were in her dreams – that was as much as she could decipher from the bits and pieces. When they all left, they had the same message: if anyone can get through to you, it will be Andrew. And now here she was, no closer to whatever this “getting through to her” malarkey was supposed to be. And the joke was on them because she had no fucking idea who he was. The downside to that? It was frustrating her. It was like being that kid left out when others had a joke, not understanding said joke.

Upon realising she was yet to respond, she took a shaky breath as she tried to process it. “If I’m supposed to be your girlfriend then why can’t I remember you?” She asked, her voice laced with uncertainty. Uncertainty. Threat. To be eliminated. She snapped out of it. Regaining a steady grip on the gun, pointing it at him as if it would prod him for even more answers. His expression looked scared. Normal, she gathered. There was part of him that looked hopeful. Another, looked frightened. Terrified. 

“Something science-y. That’s always been your field, not mine.” Words like always been. How long have they truly known each other? Why do they all remember and not her? Why this. Why that. Why her? Why why why. 

“I don’t believe you,” She stated, albeit unsure. Andrew’s face faltered. It was strange, the look in his eyes. Torn between sadness, perplexity and yet filled with love and affection. For her? To her? No. It couldn’t be… could it? No, not a chance. They weren’t in a relationship. She has never been in a relationship in her life. Never got that close to people unless it was for her own personal gain. Unless it helped her serve a higher purpose. “You have thirty seconds to prove me wrong.” Saying that - giving him a certain, definitive amount of time to explain himself - there was a familiar sense of de ja vu. Like she’s done this before without the gun pointed at him. Last time, she vaguely remembers it being five minutes and Andrew pointing a screen with what resembled a timer on a phone to count down. In another life - in another reality, perhaps. No - not going there. It was just her dreams. Something messing with her head. 

“Only thirty seconds?” He questions and the glare Lydia shoots pierces through him; she watches as he takes a breath and lets the words fall freely, a final attempt at trying to convince her the way the others had. She is certain that whatever comes out of his mouth would be lies despite the sincere look he had given her since the moment they met. Clearing his throat, he began. Started from the very beginning, detailing from the very moment they met. About how they had been through hell and back but it only made them stronger together. That he couldn’t even fully explain how they got into this predicament in the first place because it was so complicated, and that she would be better off explaining it before they landed themselves in this stupid world. She would be better off explaining it because she already has once before - he couldn’t remember all the scientific terminology and according to him she always explained things better than he could. He tells her everything. Allegedly everything. Yet she counts the thirty seconds in her head and like clockwork, the second that time is up, she lets him know. Lydia does this with subtlety although she isn’t particularly good with that. Being subtle. Instead of using words, she raises the gun.

“Time is up.” Her tone is quiet, cold but her hand trembles without realising, and suddenly she feels tears burning through her eyelids. She doesn’t cry: ever. So why now? With frustration? Due to the seeping doubt and crippling anxiety this confession made her feel, her stomach twisting with nausea. Nothing makes sense. And now, Lydia realises, that nothing’s ever made sense. Which made it all the more terrifying. In the “other” world, her father is a terrible person. In this world, he is not. To her, anyway. Has he done terrible things? Yes. But that doesn’t make one a terrible person. 

A silence looms between them, her hand shakes still, and she finds herself waging a war between her head and her heart. Her heart wants to blindly trust him, to get out of this place and back where she supposedly needs to be. But why should she trust a stranger’s claim? He has given her no reason to trust him. Other than supposed ‘facts’ that she was supposed to believe. After all, wouldn’t she remember if she loved someone like Andrew so claimed to do? Love was a fairytale; it doesn’t exist. It’s all she’s ever known so how could she possibly trust him? This wasn’t a fairytale. This was reality: her reality. 

Then, a sentence leaves the man’s lips which has her heart breaking in two for reasons she could not understand. “You don’t believe me.” The sound of pure, utter defeat. Voice on the edge of cracking, hopelessness in his eyes yet he wasn’t prepared to fully surrender. 

Her words caught in her throat and she forces a weak, sordid smile as she shakes her head.“I’m sorry,” She whispers meekly, trying to brace herself. Her heart didn’t want to pursue him and hurt him like this; he looked so… innocent. Genuine. There was so much behind those eyes of his: sincerity and love (no matter how ridiculous it may have sounded) that the thought of hurting him was paining her. She wanted to trust him so bad but she couldn’t. It was impossible. How could someone, who grew up trusting absolutely noone, suddenly find the ability to trust someone she met seconds ago? What excuse could she use? ‘Oh, he thinks he loves me and we’re both from this other reality where we’re happy and together.’ Talk about going completely crazy. Maybe this was all in her head. The kindest hearts - the ones who seem nice - are always the ones who hold the key to all secrets. They’re the dangerous ones to be quizzed and questioned at all costs. In that moment, all Lydia knew was that she felt vulnerable. Vulnerability is a threat and threats need to be eliminated.

Andrew speaks again but she misses what he said. There is a long, agonizing pause between sentences and she finds herself wanting to hear his voice again. Something draws her to it - to him. Something she cannot explain. Other than the possibility of it being a trap. It is a trap. It has to be. What comes out his lips next catches her completely off guard. Two words she never would have anticipated him saying. “Shoot me.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed as if trying to suss him out. What was his plan here? Trying to understand what angle he was playing at here was proved to be impossible. Was he testing her? Was this all a test to see what extremes she would go? So many thoughts plagued her mind, so many endless possibilities and maybes and what ifs. She wanted it all to stop. To take a break so she could understand what was going on. Allow her mind to fully process the quick pace of the world around her. She couldn’t get her head around it. “What?” She finally asks with incredulity, feeling her vocal chords tighten like it was almost difficult to get the words out. To which Andrew repeated again, taking a step closer to her. Shoot. Me. The words caused a pang coursing through her chest, weaving through her ribs and hitting her straight in the chest. 

That’s when she knew what he was doing. It made sense. Andrew wanted to see if she would call his bluff. If she was truly lost to him for good. He must have noticed the tears in her eyes, the shakiness of her hands. He must have known she was struggling. He was bluffing. He had to be. In the long run, this was terrible. He had to be setting her up for something. Mess with her head - or someone put him up to it - so they could achieve their endgame, whatever that was. The only way to resolve this was to shoot him. To call his bluff and prove him wrong this time. No matter how reluctant she felt. She couldn’t put her faith in anybody. Lydia was better than that.  

“Okay.” Lydia says simply, lips pressed into a thin line. For a second she lowers her hands, lowers the gun to her side as she recollects herself. Then, straightening her back up, regaining her posture, she steadies her hand as she points the gun yet again, directly at him. Everything in her heart is screaming at her not to but her head is telling her otherwise. She always followed her head. 

A last minute thought pops into her mind: if you were going to shoot him, you would have already. How long had she been stood there with the gun aimed perfectly straight at him but had yet to pull the trigger? If that’s what her subconscious was telling her then surely it had to be what Andrew also thought. Lydia always had something to prove. Always. Now, she was going to prove Andrew and herself wrong. She was going to do it. Finger on the trigger –

Distractions. The sound of crashes. Gunshots from outside. People’s voices. Shouting – lots of it. Bangs – more bangs – more gunshots?

It all happened so fast. All she remembers is noise – too much goddamn noise. And she looks around, panicking, her eyes darting to Andrew then to the door, then to Andrew again. Her next mistake is careless

For a split second, everything happens so fast and Lydia struggles to catch her breath.

In the next single, fleeting moment, the whole world stands still. The sound of an earth shattering bang rings through her ears. Echoes of the bullet leaving the gun ricochet through the room and everything happens in slow motion: Lydia’s head snapping towards the direction of the shot ringing through the room, the gasp that leaves her when it feels as though the air is being ripped from her lungs, the realisation dawning on her. In a panic induced daze with all the commotion outside, she’d pulled the trigger on Andrew by accident. She may have had the intentions to do it but the shock that she actually had was mortifying.

The memories came. All at once, they overwhelmed Lydia’s heart, mind, body – everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. Like a video montage playing in her head, memory after memory, they came surging in. One after the next. Snapshots. The fuller memories. Being happy. Smiling. First meeting Andrew. The jokes and banter between them, their first kiss, the stupid movie nights that had them falling asleep on each other, using each other as pillows. The little trips they took, the questions they loved asking each other. Sharing ice cream. Aspen. Debates about inanimate objects. The heartache. She remembers the tears, and the negatives. But she recalls how the positives always outweighed the negatives. And now. Every moment leading up until now. She remembers him.

“Andrew! No!”

Something between a gasp and a scream ripples from her mouth as Lydia stumbles forward, bile rising in her throat as she realizes what has happened. She runs to him,the gun hitting the floor, each step feeling as if she was running a marathon. She struggles to tell what is reality and what is this… other… reality? What was real? What wasn’t? She remembers him. Everything is real. When Andrew falls to the ground, Lydia falls with him too, her legs giving way on her as she tries her hardest to catch his mostly limp body in her arms. But now she is too feeling weak. But she has to do something. She has to fix this. She has to.  

If I fall, you fall too. One of their little rules in the other world. They took the meaning way too far now, she mused dryly. It already had multiple meanings: falling over in Aspen, falling for each other – in love – and now… and now this.

Shrugging her jacket from her shoulders, Lydia searches for the wound - just near his stomach. Dangerous place, a lot of blood loss and could be fatal if he didn’t get the treatment he needs. Tears flow freely as her memories flicker back and forth between the memories of the world - of the real Lydia Collins - and the harsh, cold reality which was Andrew’s life hanging in the balance. Applying pressure to the wound, her jacket covering the wound as her hand pressed firmly in an attempt to stop the bleeding, her other hand reaches for his face. Tears flow freely down her face now, her one hand stained in his blood. She had his blood on her hands.

“I’m so sorry -” Lydia whispered, choking back a sob. “I didn’t - I didn’t - I couldn’t - I didn’t –” Panic stricken and guilt ridden, she struggled to breathe. Everything was falling apart and it was all her fault. She did this to him. To the man she loves. How could he ever forgive her? 

“Lydia.” The sound of Andrew’s voice hurts. He sounds so weak but she looks at him anyway, forcing a smile as if to say he was going to be okay. He had to be. There was no other option. “It wasn’t your fault - it’s okay. You… you didn’t - didn’t know -” He manages but she can see he’s struggling so she forces a weak smile, hand brushing through his hair as she gently hushes him.

“Don’t speak,” She begged softly, trying to restrain from whimpering. “Hold on this for me?” Lydia instructed, gently releasing her grip on the jacket. Reaching over to his other hand, Lydia places his hand on top of where her jacket is situated, pressing it firmly to motion the actions he should do. She had to get him to remain conscious. From what she could remember, if anything fatal happened to him in this reality… then it would be the same in the real world. To put it bluntly: if anybody died here, they would die for real. She couldn’t lose him. They had to get out of there, they had to find a way out but not before they tended to his wounds. The ones Lydia inflicted. Even if by accident.  He had to stay with her. That was why she encouraged him to apply pressure to slow down the bleeding. Get him to concentrate. “I’m not losing you, I promise.” As she glanced down at her hand, stained crimson, she was nearly sick there and then but she forced herself not to be. She had to make this right. His blood. Her hand.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop crying. Riddled with guilt, she had no idea how she could ever bounce back from this. Had no idea how she could forgive herself for it. How could he look at her in the same way he always had? How could they ever bounce back from this? Sure, it wasn’t real. Technically. Right now, it felt very much real - she had no idea how it would feel when they woke up. Hopefully they wouldn’t remember… but what if they did? She didn’t want to think about it.

The feeling of a cool palm grazing against her cheek caused Lydia to avert her attention back to Andrew’s eyes again. He was still conscious. This was a good sign. He smiled weakly at her and she managed to give a tremulous smile of her own. Her hand placed on top of his, fingers curling round it and squeezing lightly. “You’re going to be okay, I promise. We’re going to get you sorted out. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. Stay awake for me, okay? That’s all I need you to do.” His thumb brushed against her cheek, catching a teardrop as it fell. Lydia leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his forehead before pulling back so she could look at him properly. 

Sirens in the distance. Someone must have called for help. If anyone was with them, she didn’t  notice. Her eyes were fixated on him, concentrated on no one but Andrew. Ensuring he was okay, or that he would be, doing everything in her power to keep him with her. Noticing his eyes starting to close, Lydia panicked instantly, voice on the verge of cracking as she spoke to him. “Hey - Andrew. Stay with me, please. You have to stay with me. Hey -” She practically pleading, wiping the tears from her eyes and ignoring the state she must have been in. “Andrew? Hey,” She called him, feeling for a pulse (which, albeit faint - it was still there. That’s what mattered most.) “Please. you have to stay with me. I love you, Andrew. That’s why you’ve got to get through this. It’s all my fault but I promise if you make it through this, I will make it up to you. I love you. There’s no way I am letting you go so easily.”

It’s then she realises it’s the first time she’s ever said those words to him. Those three little words. She knew that she loved him for a while now but never could find the courage to say it out loud. Because of her past. Because of… everything. Worried if it was too soon. But now, she was worried that she might have said them too late. 

Before she knew it, help arrived and everything else was a complete and utter blur. All she knew was that she wasn’t leaving him. Nothing was going to keep her from him.