I wish we'd never gone to that stupid concert. Walking down the desolate alleyways, street lamps emitting a humble golden glow, reflections of our scarlet stained bodies imprinted upon storefront displays. The night was hushed, footsteps echoing upon the cobblestone, the only sound for miles excluding Amaia's badly concealed cries of pain as she covered her arm, sleeve painted a dark maroon, a consistent reminder of the tribulation that had occurred mere minutes prior.

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20 minutes earlier

As my foot reached the end of a large, black iron staircase that twisted metres above my head, I was met with the sounds of heavy metal music with undistinguishable lyrics. My eyes met Khoi's and we shared an equally alarming glance, pondering the exact same question. Why had we agreed to this?

Amaia stood for a moment ahead of us, head tilted upwards. Her gaze was fixated on coloured strobes of light which scattered unevenly on her face, projecting unpredictable patterns on the dark walls that she seemed so utterly transfixed by.

Bass pumping through my ears, Amaia grabbed my hand as we pushed through the sea of people standing in the middle of the dark room. Pulling me off to the side, she looked towards me, a slight smile etched across her face.

"You see those guys on the stage?" Her arm was extended towards the raised platform in which a group of 5 teenagers stood, immersed in effort with their respective instruments.

I nodded, eyes wandering from the stage to the people that surrounded it, bodies forming a tight knit pack, jumping in unison with the beat of the fast-paced melody.

"They're 'It's my soap'."

I almost let out a snort. "Oh that's a horrid band name."

"Tell me about it." Amaia smiled. "But do you see that guy? The lead singer?"

My eyes made their way back to the stage parting from the crowd, zoning in on the guy holding the microphone, knuckles white, singing at a deafening volume. "Yeah, what about him?"

"He's Mr. Raz's son." My eyes went wide as a flicker of recognition flashed across my face. "After he dropped out he formed this band with some kids from the state school down the road."

"Oh, wow, okay." I made note of his striking electric-blue hair, buzzed to his scalp, a contrast to the long black curls that once adorned his appearance. He no longer strikingly resembled our principal. "He's changed a lot though."

"Who's changed a lot?" Khoi asked, approaching us, draping one of his long arms across my shoulder, resting the other on Amaia's head.

"Markus. You know since he dropped out of school and formed a band." Amaia answered, eyes still glued to the stage where the band was playing.

"Oh my god- I remember that." Khoi exclaimed, eyes fixed upon Markus. "I kinda hate how he left though, nothing exciting happens anymore."

"Literally-" I was silenced by the appearance of an extremely painful headache, undoubtedly induced by the sounds of the music, and huffing in annoyance, I excused myself whilst my eyes surveyed the room, looking for a suitable and preferably non-rank place to sit.

A concrete bench shoved into a corner proved the most viable option, isolated enough that nobody would bother me, but easy enough to spot if- on the off chance that someone actually wanted to find me they could. I tried to stay alone with my thoughts but there's no use. The music makes my brain spin in an endless loop, suffocating me, restricting me, until I can't bear to take it anymore. Khoi appears beside me, concern etched upon his face, with two glasses of some murky pink liquid in his hands.

"Want some?" He motions towards the glass in his hand, it's contents undistinguishable.

"Absolutely not. That looks so rank."

He gives me a look, "Suit yourself," and then proceeds to take a sip of the horrendous looking poison. He spits it out. "Holy shit this fucking sucks."

I resist the urge to say 'I told you so' before Khoi's pulling me towards the crowd of people surrounding the stage.

"We didn't come all this way for you to sulk in a corner. Just try and enjoy this moment, okay?" I nod, a broken promise. I can't 'just enjoy this'. The music sucks, this place reeks of sweat and the amount of people compacted into this tiny venue is starting to get on my nerves. I spot Amaia in the crowd, her curly hair swinging behind her in a ponytail too long to be practical. She's a natural at this sort of thing.

Before I can reach her though, the lights go out and in response, the band stops playing. The room's illuminated by the dull glow of phones, an aura of confusion and discomfort spreading across the space, mapped out on every face in the crowd.

The lights flicker on for a second, fears cease, before we're plummeted into a deep unsettling darkness once more. Voices are loud, anxiousness spreading like the flu in the winter.

An unsettling moment of silence lingers, before a blood-curdling scream pierces through the quiet. And before I know it, I'm soaked in a deep ruby, warm splatters of somebody else's blood decorating my body, as I follow the cries of the crowd, up the stairs, one by one, feet moving left and right, left and right. I tell myself to not look back, but I can't resist, eying a pool of deep-cherry, with a dark figure in the centre, knife protruding out of a head of blue hair.

It's only then when I walk into the night, the cool air surrounding me that I actually process what's happened. Someone killed Markus Raz.

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As we tread, weary with caution, I feel Amaia begin to cry, sobs racking her body as she acknowledges the event had just occurred. Khoi looks at me from where he's holding Amaia's left side, eyebrows asking the question 'what do we do?'.

"There's a convenience store up the street Aims, do you think you can make it there? They probably have something to help you." I look down towards Amaia, and she nods her head ever so slightly. I feel weak. What just happened?

Arriving at the front of the 24/7 convenience store, irradiated by the fluorescent lights submerging the store in a hue of green, I felt an immense sense of relief. The door let out a ringing sound as we walked in, Amaia collapsing onto the nearest chair, hand clutching onto the bloodied sleeve she was using to manage the flow of blood. The guy at the register woke up immediately, running a hand through his messy curls before his eyes scanned the three of us.

"Amaia!" He looked up cheerfully before he acknowledged the situation we were stuck in. Three teenagers splattered with blood that wasn't their own. "Holy shit, what happened to you guys?"

The three of us share a worried glance- what do we tell him?

"Shark attack." Amaia deadpans.

The guy at the counter splutters "...The beach is three hours away?"

"Have you seen the lake? Do you really want to know what's in that murky water?"

"Look man," I interrupt, authority oozing into my tone. "Just get something to help Amaia, please." I take a deep breath, my shaky hand raking through my messy hair, "We'll tell you the full story after she's taken care of".

"Fuck Aims, what happened to you?" He asks, now noticing the flow of fresh blood oozing out of Aimia's left arm. Khoi leaps out of his seat.

"Do you guys have bandages or like first aid kits around here?" He asks, ever the practical in such a situation.

"Yeah, yeah, over here." As the teenager beckons for Khoi to follow him.

Their voices grow distant as they move further into the store. I take another glance at Aimia. She looks so small, sitting there, hand cupped around her arm, tears welling out of her large brown eyes. I reach over, and grab her shoulder, a symbol of solidarity in this moment.

Amaia is clutching at her injured arm, blood pooling out behind her fingers. I shrug off my jacket and hand it to her.

"Use it to stop the bleeding."

She accepts it, and holds it tightly over her wound, trying to combat the flow of blood.
"I always knew I'd be the first to die in a horror movie." She says with a chuckle.

I smile, "You're not dead yet Aims."

"Yeah," She responds, "'Yet.' It's only a matter of time."

"Shut up," I say, playfully pushing her un-injured arm. "Look, we're going to bandage you up here, and then head back to school and forget absolutely all of this ever happened."

"And what if I die of infection huh? What then?"

"Stop with the dying scenarios. You've got a scratch on your arm. You'll be fine."

She glares at me. "Doesn't fucking feel like a scratch."

"Got some shit." Khoi appears from the aisle he was just in, arms embracing a dozen different first aid kits. The cashier guy trails behind him, rolls of bandages in his hands. They start loading their supplies onto the floor in front of us, pulling out various equipment.

Cashier guy holds up a needle and thread. "Does she need stitches?"

Amaia stiffens beside me. "Absolutely not." She takes a deep breath, and continues. "Anyway, shouldn't a doctor or something do that?"

"It's okay." Khoi comments from where he's seated on the floor. "Hazel did textiles. She's pretty much qualified to do stitches."

My hands shoot up, "What the fuck. No I'm not. Khoi I failed textiles."

"Well that doesn't matter. You're our best bet."

Amaia's now looking up at the ceiling and she's freaking out. "I'm gonna die, like actually die. Oh my fucking god, I never thought this day would come."

"It's a scratch." I feel compelled to remind her.

"Scratches don't need stitches." She glares at me.

"Shut up." Cashier guy bursts out, exasperated. "Amaia, show me your arm."

Amaia rolls her eyes, and reluctantly lifts her sleeve.

"It doesn't need stitches."

Amaia lets out a sigh of relief. "Good. Now get me an iced tea please."

Cashier guy stares at her with wide eyes. "You're literally bleeding out?"

"Not my problem. And I said please."

Cashie guy gets to his feet, supposedly accepting defeat. "Peach or lemon?"

"Mango."

"Fucking hell." He mutters, as he walks down the shop.

I turn to Amaia. "Who is that guy?" I ask, confused by their seemingly familiar banter.

"Oh it's Collin. He's my cousin." She shrugs.

"The same cousin who just spent three years in juvie?" Khoi asks, just now looking up from where he's organised all the medical supplies.

"Yeah." Amaia smiles, "I missed seeing him. God it's been forever."

"This is the first time in three years you're seeing him?" The question feels absurd on my tongue. No way.

"Yeah," She lets out a chuckle, "Funny isn't it?"

I sigh- what the fuck is going through this girls head? "Aims, you almost died."

"Exactly."

"You literally were present when a murder took place."

"Exactly. Funny situation."

Khoi rises to his feet, bearing a cloth he wet with water from a bottle. "Here. Clean her arm."

He gives the cloth to me, and I get out of my seat and turn to face Amaia. "This might hurt, okay?"

"Okay."

She removes the jacket from where she's covering her arm, and I get a glance at her injury.

"It's not pretty, I know." She mumbles.

I roll my eyes. "Shut up," and press the towel onto her cut. As it makes contact she winces, and grabs my arm for support. I gently remove the towel, and use its edges to clear around her wound. It hurts her, I can tell, but she manages to push through, eyes slightly screwed, body a little tense, but better nonetheless.

Khoi appears beside us, holding a tube of some sort of ointment.

"I'm gonna apply this, and then bandage you up."

Without waiting on an answer he smears the ointment on her wound, and wraps it nice and tightly with the bandages.

"Feeling better?" He asks after her arm is finished.

"Mhm." She responds, her mind clearly elsewhere. "I could still die of infection though. Anyway, where the fuck is Collin. I need my iced tea."

She rises from her seat and storms off, in attempt to hunt down her cousin.

I sit back down on my chair, and a sigh escapes me. "What a night."

Khoi sinks into the chair next to me and puts his head in his hands. He stares up at the ceiling and wearlily he responds. "What a night."

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