A gentle touch to her arm startles Sophia out of – a nap, apparently. Dammit, she only meant to lie down for a minute, let the painful tension bleed out of her back. It's been happening way too often as of late - both the pain and those unplanned naps.
Ugh... Wait.
"Shit- sorry." She releases Emma, pinned to the ground on instinct, and stands up.
"Yeah- no, it's- it's fine," her friend grumbles, rubbing her shoulder, as she gets off the ground to join Sophia on her bed. "Should've guessed to poke you with a stick or something."
"I said I'm sorry," she growls out. What does she want, a kiss to make it better? Well, she's not getting it! "And don't you dare ever use a stick." That's what Kid Win does, the little shit. And, of course, it was her who got in trouble when she ripped it from his hands and gave him as good as she got. Unfair, but what's new?
At least Kid uses the soft end of a broom nowadays, though Sophia suspects it's more for his own safety than concern for her comfort. Where he got the idea she'd use the same end on him should it come to it, she's no clue.
"Should I pop a bag the next time?" Idiot.
"Whatever." The Ward looks at her phone to check the hour, and grimaces. "Half an hour? What took you so long?" Now, she understands cooking is by no means Emma's forte, but making a bowl of popcorn isn't that difficult, she's done it before.
The girl shrugs. "You were asleep when I came up, so I ordered a pizza for myself." she finishes, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, fuck you." Emma's stupid smile only grows wider at the remark. "Do you know how hard it is to get back into proper diet after eating like a pig for my entire time-out?" Real hard, that's how. The sort of hard it used to be when she first started proper training, what with getting rid of the many small indulgences in her life. Most of them, at least. It's not that a piece would do any harm, it's the principle of things. Like running every single day, no exceptions, lest she sets up a precedent - and that way lies failure.
"Here, your popcorn."
"You suck."
"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss. We haven't gotten together like this for like a month, indulge me." Indulge her ass, it's always like this. The dumb-ass gets some bright idea, and then it's her who has to stick it out. Sophia sighs. It's not a big deal, just annoying. A look into the bowl confirms, at least, that Emma's done her corn the proper way.
"I'm not a sourpuss." Her friend snorts, and moves to the computer already connected to the TV, to turn on the movie – all Sophia knows is that it features gangsters and thirties. Better than what they watched the last time. Seriously, the movies with pre-parahuman time settings are the only ones worth watching nowadays, what with all the cape drama crap.
Madison loves... loved them.
A twinge of regret plucks at her chest at the girl's memory. Sure, she might not have been a predator of Sophia's kind, but there was something admirable in just how vicious Clements was in climbing the social ladder, without any regard for those in her way. Just as admirable was how she could recognize her betters, and stick with them instead of trying something stupid.
She thought for sure that she'd find her, when the girl dropped off the face of the earth. No body to be found meant that it wasn't just a case of simple mugging and/or rape and murder. Someone put in some effort. But as time went on, and she came back empty-handed from her searches - those often involving punching some two-bit ABB to a pulp - Sophia eventually accepted that all she'd find at this point, would be a body. So far, she hasn't found even that much, and she's starting to suspect it might not have been the Asian gang who got Madison. Clever of the fucker who got her, if it wasn't blind luck on their part, to target someone who got into shit with the ABB.
She wonders, had she actually found the girl, what would have Madison been like? A worthless husk of a person she once was, or a true survivor?
Doesn't matter, anymore.
"There we go," exclaims Emma as she plops down by her friend, the goddamn pizza box in her hands. She has to be doing this on purpose. Is this her way of getting back at her for all the teasing Sophia subjected her to when she was fighting her own pudge? Low blow. Makes her feel a perverse sense of pride. "Say, you started on any of the homework we got sent?"
"Nah." Oh look, a score of prisoners at the beginning of a gangster movie – gee, whatever will happen next? "I'll start something a day or two before Winslow opens up again. Take the rest off some loser. Maybe Hebert, you know, to remind her of her place. Been too long."
"True." Great, it's a Johnny Depp movie. Figures. Honestly, she can't see why Emma likes watching films with him so much. He can't do a tenth the shit she does every night. "Wouldn't take it from Hebert though, she's been dropping in quality. We should probably get some new nerd for that."
"It's about sending a message." What does she care about her grades, anyway? She's not going to college – in spite of what Mom has deluded herself into believing.
"No, I get that part. I'm just saying we could get someone else to do the stuff we hand in."
Sophia only gives a shrug for an answer, not particularly interested in the topic. She's more focused on Emma making herself comfortable beside her by pressing her shoulder into Sophia's own. An urge to shove her off clashes with the contentment in her current position. In the end, she just can't find it in herself to bother and shift away from the warmth at her side. That, and her attention swaps back to the screen, and yup. It's a prison break, starring trained guards with the aim of freaking five-year-olds with water guns. This is exactly why she doesn't pick action movies anymore. Still, it's Emma's turn, and so she'll indulge her friend's bad taste.
She's so picking something absolutely unwatchable for the next time, though.
Her mental listing of the types of movies Emma would absolutely despise is cut short when a doorbell rings downstairs.
"Oh my-" the other girl starts, and lets out a long, pained groan before hopping off the bed and pausing the movie. "I'll be right back, okay?"
"Sure." She stuffs her mouth with a fistful of popcorn, watching Emma's back as she leaves the room. The pizza shouldn't be so tempting once her stomach is full. It takes some effort, but she manages to tear her eyes away from the untended box. Fucking Oni Lee and his fucking-
A too-familiar scream has Sophia shoot off the bed. The bowl shatters to pieces on the ground as the cape startles forward, before her thoughts catch up with her body and she simply phases through the floor, before bolting towards the front door of the house.
She freezes, just for a fraction of a moment, at the sight that meets her eyes - at the familiar teen hanging over the redhead in the doorway, the cold wind blowing through the open door. At the knife – plunging in and out of her best friend's chest, at the blood already pooling around the feebly struggling girl, at the cry and look of horror so stark on the Emma's face – red coating her mouth and chin, at Madison's blank, empty eyes. Their owner raising her head, and starts towards Sophia, dripping knife in hand.
Sophia acts without a thought, and it's easy, pathetically easy, to avoid Clements' first, sluggish slash. The second one never comes – as the Ward smashes the bitch's skull against the wall before she her assailant can attack again. The knife lands on the ground, the hand which held it broken the next moment. A whimper of pain escapes Madison's lips, abruptly muffled when Sophia crashes the teen's head into the hard surface again, then again, and again, and once more, to then throw the bloodied girl to the ground, and kick her in the head for good measure, jolting it into the wall. And again. And again.
It's only when a small, pathetic rasp sounds out behind her, that Sophia's thoughts regain a semblance of clarity.
She's by Emma's side the very next second, her hands desperately trying to keep the blood from spilling from the fleshy mess that was once her friend's chest and stomach. Fuck, fuck! Alright, okay (nothing's okay!). She needs to stop the bleeding, or slow it down, at least. She needs bandages, or clothes, and doctors, and blood, and- and-
She shakes her head. First, stem the bleeding, then- then everything else.
No time to look for bandages, her own shirt is too thin to work. What else could she- they're in the anteroom. Quickly as she can, she grabs her sweatshirt off the rack where she hung it, and presses it down on Emma's- too many wounds. She- she's seen men die from less. One gut wound is all it takes, sometimes. One. There are dozens, how is she-
"Don't move." She forces the other girl's wandering arms to her sides, she needs to stay put. Every small movement can tear at her from the inside, but she can still feel the slight tensing on the girl's muscles. "Don't fucking move!" This time, Emma stops her feeble struggling, simply looking at the dark skinned girl with glassy, unfocused eyes.
She needs an ambulance, right now. Not in ten fucking minutes when it'll arrive. She needs- she can't carry her there- they won't make it in time! Fuck knows if she wouldn't make it worse too, but Emma doesn't have ten minutes! Nor the other fucking ten she'd need to get to the hospital and-
-and she's wasting time! Complaining about minutes without seconds to spare. She needs to call an ambulance, but she can't let up the pressure - there's too much blood, she needs to keep it up or her friend will bleed out by the time she's done with the call.
"Help!" The words feel unfamiliar, half forgotten on her tongue. "Somebody help!"