Chapter Text

Chapter One: Our hill’s not all that steep

Katya awoke with a start at the alarm blaring to her right, screaming at her to wake up. She rolled over and desperately tried to ignore it, gathering the sheets around her in a futile attempt to drown out its painful noise. She closed her eyes and cast her mind back to the dream she'd been having, and the images came rushing back as quickly as they'd disappeared. The dark scene flooded her mind once more and she felt the familiar sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as the vivid images came to life, almost as if she had never woken up. She opened her eyes once more and, with tremendous effort, dragged herself up from her mattress, smacking the snooze button on the alarm as she did so. Stretching out her tense arms, she looked out of her small window and saw that the day was fittingly grey. Pathetic fallacy at its finest.

She slowly made her way to her wardrobe and threw together an outfit she deemed fitting for her first day back in hell; she selected a red tartan dress, accompanied by black fishnet tights and her usual chunky doc marten boots. She slumped herself down by her mirror and, to keep her hands busy, set herself the task of slowly braiding her long platinum hair into two French braids at her sides, an attempt to distract herself from the anxiety ridden thoughts already bombarding her mind. Once she'd completed her assigned task, she sat staring at herself in the mirror, slightly mesmerised by the girl she saw staring back at her; the sharp, defined jawline, her rouged lips.

Was she really ready to go back to the very place that had sparked so many of her problems? She didn't think she was, but that decision, like so many others, had been made by her mother who seemed to think that she knew Katya's mind better than she knew it herself. And, if she was being perfectly honest with herself, Katya did realise that going back to college would probably be the best thing for her, but that didn't make the prospect of returning any more bearable.

Finally breaking out of her almost trance-like state, Katya made her way downstairs, decided that the void in her stomach was too deep to be filled by breakfast and left the house without a word to her mum, who desperately called after her as she abruptly closed the front door. She knew that her mum would try and get her to talk about how she was feeling about going back, just as the therapist had advised her to, but that really wasn't what she needed right now. What she needed was to be alone. Katya knew that she would probably end up not going back to college at all if she thought too much about it, and consequently made the calculated decision to leave the house as quietly and discreetly as possible, and so far that first step on her list had gone fairly painlessly. That, however, was the only easy part of her list. She still had a whole day stretched out before her. A day that she had been dreading for months. Katya began to feel that familiar sense of anxiety as the fact that she was really going back sank in, her hands felt clammy and she began to walk at an unusually fast pace in an attempt to quell the rising panic in her chest.

Katya began to try the breathing exercises drilled into her by countless therapy sessions, but they were all in vain and, with a frustrated sigh, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the packet of cigarettes she had been saving just for this moment. She glanced behind her warily, eventually coming to the conclusion that even her mum would understand that today wasn't like other days and certain leniencies could be taken, just this once. She had kept up the 'yes mum, I'm trying to quit, I promise' facade for months, frequently sneaking out to the woods at the end of her street in order to give herself the much needed relief that she only found in a stupid stick of tobacco. Katya hated being so dependent on smoking and, deep down, knew that she could easily quit if she set her mind to it, but for some reason she had never felt quite ready to give up this dependence, especially now that it was all she had left, the only reminder of her past existence. Inhaling the bitter smoke into her lungs, Katya let out a slow sigh of relief, maybe she could face the day, if she really decided to get through it.

From an early age her teachers had always described her as 'strong-willed' in their termly reports, and Katya remembered with a small smile how she used to stay up to the early hours of the day, determined to learn new words in her native tongue. She could read through pages and pages of Russian literature without a second thought by the age of ten, making her mother exceptionally proud as she saw her daughter relishing in their shared heritage. The memories of her childhood always made Katya happy, particularly the ones which included her papa, a stockily built man with hands bigger than Katya's face- of course, that was when she was very little, and she often wondered longingly how her hand would fit into her father's if he were still around. She shook herself abruptly, that was a path of memories that she really didn't have the capacity to wonder down right now. She needed to focus on the present, that was all she had now.

Throwing the stub of her cigarette onto the pavement, Katya set her course for the college gates, which seemed inexplicably larger than they had the last time she'd seen them.Keeping her head low, she resolutely walked through the entrance towards the arts block, desperately hoping that no one would recognise her. Without looking up, she quickly walked through the automatic doors of the old, drab building that had once felt like her second home, and turned right towards the classroom where she assumed her first lesson of the day would take place.

After rounding the final corridor she looked up and stopped abruptly in her tracks. Something wasn't right. The walls looked different, no longer the familiar lilac colour that had once made her feel so calm, but instead painted a clinical white. The pieces of artwork and exhibits of various extended projects that had previously adorned the display boards had been replaced by various maths charts, with symbols and equations that Katya could not even imagine being able to solve. She stared at the building around her, bewildered by its dramatic change. Suddenly everything felt too much, the change felt too drastic, and she sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands.

'This had all been a mistake, how stupid can you be', Katya thought to herself. 'Of course the bloody building has changed, you've been gone for over a year, did you expect the world to freeze and fall apart in your absence? You shouldn't be here, you're not ready for this' chanted the familiar voice in her head as she sank further into the floor. She suddenly felt incredibly drained, and grimly decided that she would sit in this spot until the end of the day when she could finally go home and lie to her mother about her day being 'better than expected!', with a fake smile plastered to her face. She knew how much her going back to college had meant to her mother, and the thought of disappointing her made Katya's heart sink even further.

Just as she began to feel herself reaching a level of despair that she had not felt in a very long time, she felt the warmth of someone's hand on her shoulder. Katya started at the physical contact, turning her head to look at the well manicured and dainty hand that was now squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. She looked up slowly and a pair startlingly blue eyes met her own.

The girl standing over her had long blonde hair, quite similar to her own, except that it was a warmer, more golden shade of blonde. She was wearing a pink high neck dress that cut-off just above her knees and Katya noticed with amusement that a flower crown of white and blush pink roses perched precariously on her forehead. The flower crown girl looked at her with care, and Katya could see the genuine concern in her blue eyes.

A million thoughts rushed to her mind as she desperately sought for something to say, something that would mask the fact that she was on the brink of a panic attack, something that would convey a level of gratitude to this girl who had been kind enough to, whether knowingly or not, reach into the pit she was in and somehow drag her out. But just as she was about to open her mouth, hoping that some semblance of a coherent sentence would come out, the peal of the college bell resounded through the corridor. The flower crown girl shot her an apologetic look and disappeared into one of the neighbouring classrooms without a second glance.

Katya started after her, almost reverently as she realised that the voice in her head had been silenced by this brief, seemingly meaningless interaction. Katya stood up and, picking up her bag, made her way towards the front office for directions to the new arts block. Leaving with a far more positive attitude than when she arrived, Katya decided that she was going to get through the day, hoping more than she dared that she would bump into the mysterious flower crown girl again at some point that day.

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Chapter song: Running on Fumes by King Creosote and Jon Hopkins