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boy wakes with a start.
it takes a moment for him to register where he is. he's not by the well, and he isn't dragging her behind him, he's in a room in a house that he and his friends found earlier. a temporary safety from the terrors outside.
he looked around. he smelt the rot, the dust clinging to the walls and the rank sheets that provided no comfort, but most importantly, he saw his friends and his sister.
his sister.
she looked so peaceful. curled up on a pillow and a thin sheet draped over her as she slept soundly. he wondered what she was dreaming about, if she was even dreaming at all.
his gaze then fell to bandage and bucket. bandage huddled in a ball, using his scarf as an impromptu pillow, while bucket was on his back, as if he was trying to take up as much space as possible. both snored quietly.
he blinked. where's hood?
his gaze fell to her previous sleeping spot, and her blanket had been thrown to the side haphazardly, but just as a faint feeling of panic crept in, he heard a noise from the kitchen.
oh. of course.
he let go of the breath he didn't even realise he was holding, and slowly stood, making his way to the kitchen. once there, he spotted hood getting a glass of water, and the first thing he noticed was that she didn't have her sack on.
"hood?"
she turned and gasped, dropping the cup. it smashed on the floor, but she was more concerned with pulling her sack back on before boy saw too much. she tied the knot in the rope around her neck, while boy turned back to the living room. only girl stirred, but she quickly fell back into her deep slumber.
"don't do that," hood snarled, and boy turned back to her, sheepishly lowering his head.
"sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he says, stepping further into the kitchen, "couldn't sleep?"
her shoulders relax slightly.
"i couldn't stop thinking about—" she paused, biting her lip and running a hand down her coat.
she didn't finish her sentence. boy didn't need her to.
"neither," boy admits.
an uncomfortable silence stretched on as hood climbed down from the kitchen side.
"… when are you going to tell her?" hood eventually asks, and a tense silence stretches between the two.
"when am i?" he blinked.
"yeah, you. she's your sister."
"so? don't pin it all on me." he sounds more defensive now, like a cornered animal.
"you organised the whole thing."
"you slit her throat."
he regrets it the moment he says it. he watches hood's shoulders tense again, and she goes quiet.
"... sorry," he eventually mumbles, hands fidgeting nervously with the rope around his neck, "didn't... didn't mean to say that, it... it just slipped out."
hood stares at her feet for a moment, and the kitchen falls still.
"she deserves to know," hood muttered, and her voice is so quiet that boy almost doesn't catch it.
boy hated thinking about it, and he could tell hood did, too. he hated thinking about the barn, the rabbit, the rope burning his hands, the sound of his older sister choking on her own blood, everything—
he swallowed hard.
"i know," he nods, and his gaze is drawn back to his sister's sleeping form.
she's peaceful. she isn't shaking, or pleading, or confused, she's there. quiet as always.
"will you ever tell her?" hood asks.
"will you?" boy shoots back.
they both know she wouldn't. neither of them would.
the thought of confessing made them ill. they could taste it, the way bile crept up their throats when they thought about it for too long. the way hood could still feel the knife in her hands, the gurgling and churning still ringing in her ears.
"do you think she already knows?" boy asks, idly scratching a spot on his arm, and hood can only scoff in response.
"seriously?" she nearly laughs, but a part of her considers it, "… i hope not."
it's selfish, and they both know it. the way they acted as if nothing had happened, the way none of them would own up to it. would things be better if they did?
"i just don't get it," boy sighs, his head still low.
"get what?" hood raised her head.
"she's... still so nice." he gripes, "it— it gets on my nerves. sometimes i wish she'd just have a go at me, get it over with."
hood is quiet, before nodding.
"mhm," she fidgeted with the cuff of her sleeve.
another silence creeps in. the pair stand still, mulling over their thoughts. hood twiddles with a loose thread on her glove, while boy stares at an old stain on the floor. guilt lies heavy over the two, but not heavy enough. they swallow it down, refusing to allow it to rear its ugly head.
"we did what we could," boy rationalises out loud, more to himself than to hood.
hood is quiet for a moment.
"did we?" she challenges, and boy can't think of a response.
after a few tense seconds, she walks past him. she leaves silently, and the door creaks shut. boy doesn't call out after her.
he's alone again. he starts to replay that night over and over in his head, the mud beneath his boots and the ringing in his ears. the way his sister pleaded, asking what she'd done wrong made the bile return momentarily, before he stubbornly swallowed it back down.
after a tense moment, he turned and joined the others in the living room. hood had already bundled herself up beneath her blanket and was sleeping soundly, leaving boy the last one awake.
he returned to his makeshift bed, planting his head on the pillow as he stared at the ceiling, before his gaze landed on his sister again. the way her hair still seemed wet, her hands, feet and dress stained with muck and dirt, and the faint, jagged line across her throat.
we did what we could, he thought, before he finally drifted off.