Tuesday 1st October 2017

Tarrow was bleeding.

He stumbled from the dark room in a state of shock, clutching his stomach, crimson blood spurting from between his fingers. His torso was wet and warm, and as he walked, clumsily, he saw a trail of scarlet behind him. Tarrow dimly registered that he would have to clean that up later. Or he could get Isis to do it. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

The next room he reached was just as dark as the one he had left; he could make out looming shapes of furniture in the gloom, but other than a small, square window in the top left corner of the wall opposite him, there was no light source, and that which filtered through the dirty pane was insufficient to make much out. Tarrow could smell the stench of metal raw in his nostrils. His feet dragged along the stained, threadbare carpet.

He grabbed the back of a large, ugly arm-chair with a blood soaked palm and gripped the shaggy material as his body slowly collapsed in on itself. His back arched, his toes curled and he fell back heavily, the back of his head scraping down an arm rest.

The pain was absent.

That was what was confusing him; despite the gaping hole in his stomach which was oozing gore and items he was fairly sure were supposed to remain inside him, he felt nothing other than slight discomfort and a strange feeling of interest at his gaudy innards.

Tarrow curiously placed a crimson hand on the eerie void on his navel. His fingers felt nothing but hot, wet blood and a horrible space where his stomach should be.

He jolted awake and sat bolt upright in bed, sweating.

Tarrow didn't move for a moment, just sat there, breathing heavily, but then he heard a noise and looked towards his bedroom door. Isis pushed it open and stumbled into his room.
She was bleary eyed, and came over to him, grasped his arm.

"Tarrow," she breathed. "Are you OK?"

"Fine," he replied grumpily, shaking her off. "Bad dream."

"Again?" Isis asked, the corner of her eyes creasing. "But I thought they'd stopped- you haven't had one in ages..."

"Well, I don't know, I guess they're coming back," Tarrow growled impatiently, leaning back against the bed board. "Probably because of all the revision we've got to do. Haven't been getting much sleep lately."

She seemed anxious. Tarrow rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine. Really, Isis-"

"Have you heard from Triston since Sunday"

"What?" He asked, taken aback by the sudden question.

Isis looked sheepish.

"Has- has he said anything to you?" Tarrow asked quickly.

"No, he hasn't spoken to me in a while." Isis stood up and walked to the lookout windowsill. The curtains hasn't been drawn because it was such a mild night. Tarrow sighed and slumped back onto his pillow. He felt terrible.

"I was going to speak to him today but he wasn't in. Oh man, he was really upset..."

"I'm sure he's fine..." Isis said absently, more to herself than her brother. "You two always make up."

Tarrow scowled at her back.

"You're making us sound like petty school girls," he muttered.

Isis turned and faced him. "Well, maybe you shouldn't act like them," she said sharply. "God, you have no idea how annoying it is to be stuck in the middle of an argument-"

Tarrow was too tired to deal with this now.

"Go back to bed, Isis," he said, turning over and pulled his duvet up to his chin. Isis huffed but left without another word, closing the door behind her.

Tarrow sighed, turned onto his back again and stared up at the ceiling. There was a crack in the paint in the bottom left hand corner of the roof that he had never noticed before.

He did feel bad, but he was also so tired. Checking his phone, he saw it nearly half past one on the morning, and as he gazed as the bright screen with glazed eyes, it took him an unnecessary amount of effort to turn off the screen again. He pressed his under finger down on the little button and Kelly's, Isis's, Triston's and his face disappeared.

That screen saver, he thought. When had he taken that photo?

It had been on the final day of term last year.

Triston had wrapped his tie around his forehead and Kelly and Isis had put flowers in their hair. They had all sat on the grass with a big bottle of lemonade and listened to Laura Marling.
Tarrow felt bad for being glad Maximus hadn't been there.

He tasted salt. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his cheek and felt wet. Tarrow blinked.

He was crying.

Just sleepy tears, he thought, and from looking at my phone. And then, once again, he turned over onto his side faced the wall, and tried to get a few hours sleep.