Who Am I

Cake

The wind toyed with her light blond hair, seeming to caress her. Fields of wheat stretched all around. Blaire pushed past the swaying crops. She stepped forward, eyes riveted on her older sister.

"Marie?" Marie grabbed her arm, laughing as she whisked them into a waltz.

"Do you want to know a secret?" Blaire nodded. She furrowed her eyebrows.

I should know this. Right? But I'm four? No. I'm twenty.......twenty something. No. Marie isn't even that old? How could I be?

Marie leaned in close.

"I've always wanted to dance in a ball."

Blaire gasped.

I am old!

A red cut appeared. The thin line slowly opened. Within seconds, blood covered Marie's hips. She smiled, pulling Blaire closer. Blaire struggled, gasping for air as the sky darkened and blood seeped through her clothes.

"I haven't seen you for a week. I'm sorry. I was at a lovely skiing trip you see. But I thought of you the whole time I was there." Marie's soft voice beamed through a delicate face. The face suddenly bloomed with blood. Her eyes dimmed. Blaire squirmed. The ripped open hands gripped her tighter. Blaire could feel sharp bone pressing against her soft, child hands. She screamed.

What's happening? Why..... Oh. Oh. The crash. She looks like.....

Red dots spread through her hair, as her legs snapped. Her lanky body somehow kept up a smooth pace. One eyeball burst, spraying all over Blaire. Blaire heaved breaths as tears fell. Marie nestled her mauled face against Blaire's struggling shoulder.

"Don't worry. I'll-"

Blaire jerked free from the talking corpse, turning around. She sprinted over the crops. She could feel the warm blood drying on her scalp.

Run. I need to go. Oh, Marie. Her blood is all over. It feels so, so wet.

She shook her head, rust colored flakes sprinkling the dirt beneath. A familiar man stood at the edges of the crop. His firm shoulders and sharp profile made Blaire sob out of relief. She threw herself into his outstretched arms. Her hands frantically gripped his stiff arms, blood smearing the tan skin. She looked up.

"Jason." A hand firmly stroked her back.

"I know." A sharp pain hit her in the stomach. She looked down. A kitchen knife was shoved into her kidney. A scream was pushed out by a gurgle of blood. Jason let go. She fell.

Jason.

What did I do?

"Blaire!" Blaire's blurred gaze slowly adjusted to a white, popcorn ceiling. A faint beeping noise forced her to look to the side. Ivan sat next to her. She looked around. "You're in a hospital." She opened her mouth. Her eyes widened as she spoke.

"Why?" Ivan glanced fearfully at an IV.

"Drug overdose. We don't know why you lost your voice." Blaire stared at the ceiling. The chair squeked as Ivan stood up. He circled around the bed. The beeping quickened. Ivan leaned close, his habdsome face shuttered and cold. He traced her arm with a featherlight touch. She shivered. His hand delicately grasped the needle puncturing her skin. He fingered the plastic piece. The beeping quickened. She relaxed.

If it's Ivan, it must be for a good reason.

Blaire peacefully watched him. Ivan took a deep breath. His hands shook. Blaire gazed at her best friend, a pitiful look in her eyes. The beeping slowed.

With a sob, Ivan leg go, collapsing on the floor. He covered his head in his hands as Blaire closed her eyes.

Thank God-

Click.

Blaire's eyes flew open. The bullet shot into her chest. The bed beneath gave way. Blaire screamed silently as she fell through a deep abyss.

"Do be more quiet. It hurts my ears when you scream." Cora's voice cut Blaire into silence. She got off the recliner. The world spun.

Flick.

Blaire closed her eyes as the faint, running sound of a liquid being poured washed over her.

Tap.

"Get up. I have a drink for you." Blaire sat up as Cora handed her a sparkling glass of wine. She sipped hers. "Delicious," she murmured. Blaire looked down. Her haggard face sullenly stared back. She lifted the glass to her lips.

A sweet, syrupy taste slid through her mouth. Blaire sighed contentedly. Cora smiled.

Stomp.

Stomp.

Cora frowned at the sound. "Why would anyone need to stomp? Do I look like someone who would have mafia connections?" The door slammed open. Cora narrowed her eyes as she held the glass up to her lips. "The next time you cone here, do be more polite and knock-"

The glass exploded. Cora's head hit the recliner back. Blaire turned, dress soaked in wine.

It's warm.

A blond woman smirked.

"Best aim," she said. Blaire's eyes widened. She watched as Sonya reloaded the gun and aimed at her face.

"When should we get her to eat?"

"We've been arguing for literally three hours. She's not hungry!"

"That doesn't mean she had to fast. And besides, Jason, though a hesitated businessmen, is smart enough to keep his head. She doesn't need to grieve an excessive amount."

"You know about Marie. Don't think she reacts the same way as everyone else-"

"I'm hungry."

The two jumped. Blaire's stomach growled. Ivan nodded.

"I'll get something right away. Anything you would like?" Cora sighed.

"Ivan, she's not picky. When you're sad, it's simply a necessity-"

"Cake. Strawberry and cream." Ivan ran out. He returned. A few minutes later, a small frosted cake in hand. He wacked a cake knife into it, sawing off a gooey piece. Blaire licked the icing. Her eyes lit up.

Cora gave him a triumphant look. Ivan simply stared at Blaire, worry marring his features. Blaire finished the cake in minutes. She turned to Ivan.

"Thank you." He smiled, shoulders relaxing.

"No problem."

Surprising? Or boring?