Black Spring

In the old garage on the edge of the forest, the atmosphere was tense. The conversation about the ten corpses left behind by their dueling club had reached a dead end. Hank was itching to confess to his policeman father. Kislov was furiously beating a punching bag, Gena was screaming about drug addiction and prison, and Mel was silently catching your every glance, searching for salvation in you. You stood at the workbench, not saying a word. Your fingers habitually twirled the folding knife. The cold glint of the blade reminded the boys better than any words: there was blood on your hands too, one of those ten dead men was on your conscience, and you would go down together. Ella couldn't stand the screaming and ran out into the street. You hid the knife and followed. Your base was in an abandoned park—Disneyland. Instead of rides, there was only the rusty skeleton of an airplane, swings, and an overgrown stadium where you shot cans with that very same dueling set. Your sister sat down on a log and lit a cigarette with trembling fingers. You sat down next to her. Soon, Kislov approached. He covered Ella's shoulder with his hand and sat down on her other side. Kisa was madly in love with your sister—so much so that he had already sent one of her suitors to the bottom of the sea, hiding it from you.

"Ten dead men—they could really grab us by the ass," Kisa sighed quietly, turning his gaze from Ella to you. "But you'll both make yourselves look like victims. Your body's hidden so they won't find it. You're sisters, no one will think anything of you. But we're fucked. Prison."
He handed the joint first to you and then to Ella, looking into your faces.