Archive of Our Own

When the shadow of night fell, with the specter of death looming on the midnight horizon, Shauna had to be pried off of Jackie's body. Taissa had come up behind Shauna and extended a gentle hand, placing it on her shoulder as if to silently beg her to come back inside. In truth, Shauna felt as if nothing in the world could take her away from Jackie, from the crumpled form that, 36 hours ago, she had imagined had been her best friend.

When Shauna attempted to pull away from her, she quickly found that, in the devastatingly freezing chill of the night air, her fingertips had affixed themselves to the fabric and metal button clasps of Jackie's letterman jacket. As she rose, her atrophied legs crackling and popping, her fingertips bled.

Shauna didn't allow herself to speak. Deep down, she imagined that if she were allowed to speak, Jackie's voice would echo through her rotted windpipe, and Jackie's breath would spill from her lungs.

Taissa gently led Shauna up the porch to the front door of the cabin, swinging it open with her free hand, and gently squeezing Shauna's with her other, as if to signal to her that it was okay to step inside. That it was okay to leave her behind. In truth, Shauna had vanished long ago. The simulacrum that Taissa ferried across the threshold bore only Shauna's shape, her name under her tongue. But it was Shauna in name and name alone; the amalgam it represented was just as much the husk of Shauna as it was the frozen, still, dead girl that lay outside, half-sunken in the snowbank, and bearing scarlet fingerprints on the brilliant yellow of her jacket.

The wooden door of the cabin gently swung shut behind the two girls, dampening the howl of the gusts of midnight wind that shot through the branches of the trees like invisible bullets. The Shauna husk was met with a warm room lit with an amber glow, and the unshaking gazes of a dozen girls, all looking directly at the corpse that had walked through the door. Not a single one spoke; none were brave enough to break the silence that followed. Taissa's hand gently slipped away from Shauna's, and hung limply by her side as she gave Shauna a confusing expression; Shauna thought it looked like pity, or maybe disappointment, or maybe grief. Shauna supposed there was little difference.

Taissa turned and gently cut a way through the maze of sleeping bags that dotted the floor, stalking through the room and silently taking her place by her lover's side. In contrast, Shauna remained resolute, frozen just inside the doorway. She wished with all her heart that she could make up her mind, that she could throw open the door again and run back outside into the blizzard, fall onto her hands and knees, and stay with Jackie throughout the night. If she died, Shauna thought, she died. For her to pass with Jackie, like Jackie, as Jackie, she surmised, would be the greatest honor. She would stay with Jackie as the wind howled, as the pair fell below the surface of the snowbank, drowning in the open air and freezing from the inside out, in the arms of the one person who would make her death worth it.

Shauna would kiss Jackie's frostbitten lips for any residual drops of poison, hoping against hope that she would ingest enough for a painless sleep.

But Shauna stood just inside the door, and as she watched, the eyes of her friends turned from her to the fire in the fireplace, to the faces of the other girls flickering in the flames, to the branches scratching like decayed fingerbones against the windows of the cabin. The only one who refused to shift her gaze, who kept her eyes fixated on the apparition of Shauna, was Misty fucking Quigley.

“We need to move her.”

The sun had risen in the time it took for Shauna to blink. She was sitting on a rickety stool by the window, cheek in her hand, and she was gazing through the foggy glass at the place she knew Jackie was buried. At these words, however, her head snapped to attention to lock eyes on Taissa, who had stood above the rest and had spoken more to Shauna directly than to the room at large.

“What do you mean, move her?” Shauna replied, voice croaky and cracking from lack of use.

“We need to move her,“ Taissa repeated. ”We need to make sure nothing takes her. It's amazing she's still out there as it is.“

”What are you going to do to her?“ Shauna said, her words tinged with anger. She thought about standing to confront Taissa properly, but she didn't think her legs capable of moving.

Taissa shifted her weight from leg to leg, unsure of how to proceed. She'd captured the attention of the room by this point, though nobody found themselves bold enough to speak up.

When it became obvious that Taissa had made up her mind, she put her hands on her hips and bit her lip in that way that was so infuriatingly 'Taissa.'

“We could put her in the meat shed,” she whispered out.

Now Shauna did stand, placing her hands on her knees to both steady herself and to propel herself upwards. “We are not keeping her in there,” she said, hoping against hope that her voice conveyed the venom she'd intended it to. “We're not treating her like another piece of bear meat.”

“I'm not saying that, Shauna,” Taissa said. “I'm saying that, for our safety, and for Jackie's safety—”

“Who are you to consider her safety?” Shauna spat back, finally drawing herself up to her full height. “Last I checked, Tai, you made no effort to stop her before she left, so I don't think you deserve a say in this.”

There was a flurry of motion as another girl stepped in between Shauna and Taissa; Natalie Scatorccio held out both hands, trying to keep the pair apart. “Whoah, Shauna, listen to me,” she said sternly. “This is not about who gets a say, okay? This is Taissa trying to keep us safe. I absolutely promise you that, whatever we do with Jackie, she'll be safe. Just like you're trying to ensure, too. Okay?”

Shauna bit her lip, trying to silence her angry breaths; when she felt the fire die down, she took a shaky step backwards and gently nodded in agreement. Natalie nodded in return, piquing her eyebrows before turning back to Taissa. ”Tai,“ she said, ”do you think the meat shed is the best idea?“

Taissa crossed her arms. ”It's the only idea,“ she said resolutely, already having made up her mind. ”We have barely any space as it is, and we're not exactly close to any morgues, so...“

Taissa took a breath and trailed off. Shauna felt her cheeks heat with indignation, felt the urge to speak out in contrarian anger against the word 'morgue' for no other reason than to cause more turmoil.

But Shauna knew better.

”We can't keep her in the cabin,“ Taissa said, trying to finish her previous thought.

“Why not?” Shauna asked before she could stop herself.

“Um,” Taissa responded, stepping forward in anger again, “because Jackie is fucking dead? That's why?”

Shauna took a step forward to match Tai's aggression, but met only Natalie's outstretched hand as it pushed back against her chest. “Listen!” Natalie yelled out, trying again to separate the pair of them. She turned to Taissa and gave her an incredibly stern look, then turned away, refusing to make eye contact with Shauna.

A beat of silence, before Natalie continued.

“I know that this must be super fucking hard for you, Shauna,” she said in that slow, gravelly drawl that the whole cabin knew as her 'serious voice.' As she spoke, she lowered her hands gently, trusting Tai and Shauna not to maul each other the second she let her guard down. “I know this must be hard, because I know what it feels like to lose someone. I'm not talking outta my ass here, Shipman; I know what I'm talking about. And, as much as it must suck to hear, Tai's right. We can't keep Jackie in here. Once she... you know...”

Natalie nervously shifted.

“Once she... warms up, it'll be dangerous for us to keep her in here, even if we might want to. We have no medicine around, and if one of us gets sick, we'll have nothing to treat it with. I really do think it's best to keep her somewhere where we can keep an eye on her and make sure she stays safe.”

“But—” Shauna started, but Nat held up her hand again and Shauna fell silent.

Another beat.

“She's right,” came another voice from behind Taissa, and Shauna looked past her to see Van take a gentle step forward. “I know you don't wanna hear it, Shauna, but it's what's best for Jackie. It'll help keep the predators away from us, and it'll help us keep her safe, too. Especially now that we know that there are bears in these woods, I think the less we do to tempt them to us, the better.”

Shauna's gaze flitted from one to the other, from Van, to Taissa, to Natalie, and back.

“So that's it?” she proposed to the room. “So we hide her away like some kind of, what... some kind of shameful fucking secret? We keep her in the shed next to our bear chunks?“

”Shauna—“ Tai began, but Shauna's tirade had just begun.

”I cannot believe that you all would throw Jackie away like that. I can't believe you all would insinuate that that's where she belongs, after all she fucking did for us—“

”She didn't do shit,“ another voice piped up from the crowd; Mari propped herself up on her elbows, her face adorned with that smug expression Shauna hated, and Shauna swore she could've decked her. Choosing to ignore the snide comment, however, Shauna took a deep breath and continued.

”You all were so eager to let her stay out there, and it's thanks to you that she didn't feel safe enough to come back in. If you all hadn't been such bitches to her these past few months—“

Now, Taissa was beginning to get angry, too. ”Listen, Shipman,“ she began, stepping forward and shoving away Natalie's hand. ”You're not so squeaky-clean here either, or did you forget that it was your ass that argued with her that night? If it wasn't for you and your little tantrum, Jackie wouldn't have left in the first place, so don't you try and place the blame on us because you know damn well you're just as guilty as the rest of us.“

Shauna turned her attention to Taissa and scoffed out loud, making sure the entire room heard it. ”I'm just as guilty as you are, Tai? What, you think I don't know that? You think I'm not well fucking aware of what I said and did to her that night? I know what I did and I know what I said, and I have spent every second of the past thirty-six fucking hours wishing that I could take it back, but I can't. Because we're stuck here in this godforsaken house, and I'm stuck here with all of you, and it feels like I'm the only one who wants to treat Jackie with the fucking dignity she deserves, instead of relegating her to the frozen food aisle.“

Van couldn't help the snicker from leaving her lips.

”So yes, Taissa,“ Shauna continued, ”I am well aware of what I said to her. I would do anything to take it back, but I can't, so please fucking forgive me if I want to treat my best friend with the respect she deserves.“

The silence that enveloped the main room of the cabin was so thick that Shauna could imagine slitting its throat.

”I can help move her,” Misty said, breaking the silence with that annoyingly chipper voice.

Shauna wanted to scream. She wanted so badly to storm up to Misty and scream directly into her face, so loudly it deafened her; she wanted to ball her fists and plunge them as deeply into Taissa's cheek as she possibly could, over and over and over again until Taissa was no longer Taissa, until she could've been anyone underneath Shauna's bloodied knuckles. She wanted to wrap her hands around Natalie's throat and squeeze, squeeze until her eyes went blood-red and her fingernails scrabbled at Shauna's hands and her heels kicked against the floorboards.

Shauna didn't care who she had to hurt; she only knew that she needed to hit someone, and hit them fucking hard.

Instead the apparition of Shauna straightened her back, breathed out a long breath of resignation, and said a single sentence to the roomful of girls waiting with bated breath.

“If anyone is going to be moving her, I'm going to do it.”

Taissa stepped forward and her lips began to form a protest, but Shauna held up her hand just as Natalie had done, and stopped her dead in her tracks. Shauna's fingers closed around the doorknob of the front door and turned it, but kept the door shut. When she turned to face the room, and when she turned to face Taissa, there was a calculated coldness in her eyes, a look of pure spite that was at once both searing with rage and icy-cold as death itself.

“None of you deserve to touch her.”

As the cabin door swung open, and as the gust of bitter morning cold swept its way through the room, Shauna stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind her. Not one of the girls dared follow her, either for fear of invoking Taissa's ire or Shauna's anger. But in truth, Shauna didn't expect them to help. She didn't want them to help. So as she marched forward alone, freshly fallen snow crunching underfoot, walking towards the shock of bright blue poking through the glare of the sunlight, she steeled herself for what she was to find. As she strode forward, she grasped at the knitted wool of her cap, and slid it slowly down over her eyes, leaving just enough space to be able to slowly maneuver around the small logs surrounding the long-since-snuffed campfire.

As she stood over Jackie's form, she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She remembered Jackie as being larger. She seemed so small in the cold.

Bending down, she slid her hands into the freezing snow, underneath what was visible of Jackie's uniform, and gently pushed them through to the other side; her pale fingers poked through the snow as she slid her forearms under Jackie's neck and through the crook in her stiffened legs. Then, with a monumental grunt of effort, she straightened her back and staggered to her feet, carrying Jackie's body with her, and as slowly as she possibly could, she began to trudge through the calf-high snow towards the meat shed on the edge of the clearing.

Jackie's head bounced gently against Shauna's collarbone, her neck muscles taut and erect. Flecks of snow still clung to the tips of Jackie's eyelids. Shauna considered wiping them clean.

When the pair reached the small wooden structure, Shauna realized the predicament that lay ahead of her: opening the door while maintaining a grip on Jackie. Bracing Jackie securely against her chest, she lifted a shaking leg and pressed her shoe against the slab of metal that served as the makeshift door and pushed. It didn't budge. Shauna exhaled an exasperated breath. She kicked the door, hard. It didn't budge. Shauna groaned an exasperated groan. She tried to kick again, and the door remained stubbornly closed. Shauna contemplated dropping Jackie, but as soon as the thought entered her mind, she shut it out.

Then a hand crept into view on her right shoulder, and Shauna slid her mask up and turned to see Natalie standing behind her, her eyes dull and apologetic, her face lined and sorrowful. Shauna was admittedly surprised to see her, but understood why she had come and stepped out of the way, careful to hide Jackie's face from her. Natalie gently brushed past Shauna and jiggled the door open, swinging it open wide enough for the pair of them to fit through. Natalie's eyes met Shauna's again, and Shauna felt a tinge of embarrassed heat in her cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered out. Natalie said nothing but gave Shauna a small nod of understanding, before turning on her heel and carving a path back to the cabin.

Shauna turned back to the shed and, as deftly as she could, slid through the open threshold, Jackie's body still in her arms. It was a few degrees warmer in the shed, and as she stood just past the door, Shauna supposed that it wasn't the worst place in the world for Jackie to rest.

Van's words echoed in her mind, and she suddenly contemplated the thought of hulking lumbering masses of brown fur and black eyes sinking their inches-long fangs into Jackie's frozen skin and dragging her away, back to their den to feed their young. Shauna felt her stomach twist.

Gently stepping through the interior of the meat shed, Shauna carried Jackie to the far wall, where a small blue cushion sat propped up against the wooden logs. With a final deep breath of exertion, Shauna crouched down and gently slid Jackie's body from her arms onto the cushion below, praying with everything she had that she would remain upright. The back of Jackie's head hit the wall with a dull thumping sound, but she didn't budge, and she didn't topple to one side. She simply sat there, pale, and stiff... and cold...

Shauna stepped back and gazed down at Jackie, propped up against the wood, her frozen hair in a perpetual frizz around her bluish face, arms positioned awkwardly at her sides, and her jacket still dripping fresh snow onto the warmer dirt floor.

Shauna felt as if she would be sick. She found herself wanting, desperately needing to run, to run as fast and as far as she possibly could, away from this specter, this shadow of what Jackie used to be. This imitation Jackie that seemed more like a doll than a person, this Jackie that would never feel like a person again.

Jackie would never feel like a person again, even if she were in Shauna's arms. That thought nearly tore Shauna open.

Before she knew it, Shauna's shoulders were heaving, her breath was catching in her lungs, and sobs were wracking her throat. She felt her legs begin to shake and her knees begin to wobble, and before she knew it, she was kneeling on the floor, staring at the no-longer-Jackie through thick, wet, runny tears, and nearly screaming her throat raw with long harsh sobs and deep belly-gasps.

The door to the shed lazily drifted to and fro in the harsh, biting winter wind, and it blew through the open door and through the cracks in the logs that made up the shed, and Shauna could feel it ruffling her hair and stinging against the back of her exposed neck, but she was too lost in herself to care.

Natalie and Taissa both sat side by side by the front door of the cabin, listening with tears in their eyes to the wails echoing through the trees from the sanctity of the meat shed, but Shauna was too lost in herself to care.

Jackie's arm shifted and relaxed in the minute temperature difference between outside and in, and her curled hand fell from its position on her frozen thigh onto the dirt floor below with a tiny thud, but Shauna was too lost in herself to care.

In truth, Shauna didn't know how long she spent crumpled in half in the meat shed, sobbing her broken heart out to her best friend. When she finally stood and walked with shaking legs back out to the campsite, and when she shut the door behind her with a metallic thud, all she knew was that the sun had vanished behind the mountain peaks, and had been replaced with the deep and brilliant purples of the late sunset. Maybe, she reasoned, she'd spent an entire day in there with her. Maybe she had ceased to be a person for a day, and instead become a monument, an avatar of the suffering of mortals. Shauna didn't know whether or not she liked that idea.

When Shauna had taken her place in the attic of the cabin, silent and stoic by the window on the far side of the room, she watched night slip over the snow below. She watched the walls of the meat shed, hoping against hope that she would see stirring within, that she would hear the shuffling of Jackie's undead feet sliding against the dirt. She could see it clear as day: Jackie's corpse sliding the airplane door against the snow, pushing it up in little peaks, as she shambled across the clearing and stared upwards with cold, empty, lifeless eyes at Shauna's face in the window.

For the second night in a row, Shauna Shipman didn't sleep.

“It's been three hours, Natalie. This is not healthy for her.“

”Taissa, listen to me: you do not know what you're talking about. She is grieving. This is important for her; she has to learn how to process this.“

”She's been in the shed for three hours! She only barely bundled up before she left, and if she's not careful she's gonna freeze out there just like Jackie did. We have to bring her back inside.“

Natalie turned her gaze out the cabin window to the meat shed, just visible through the foggy glass. Earlier this morning Shauna had slid down the attic ladder in silence, slipped open the door, and shut it behind her with a desperately muffled click that suggested she wasn't too eager to be questioned or followed. To Taissa’s dismay that had been more than three hours ago, and none of the girls had heard a sound from her since.

Taissa didn't want to admit that she was worried for Shauna, but as she watched the falling snow out front, she had learned to swallow her pride.

Natalie bit her lip, and when she spoke, it was in her serious voice. “I understand it's scary, Tai, but this is normal. Grief is normal. It fucks with your head in ways you might not understand, and that's okay, Tai, because you haven't experienced it like I have. Like we have.“

Natalie paused, and then turned back to face Taissa again. ”We just... have to let her exist. She'll come back to us when she's ready.“

Taissa exhaled dejectedly, before closing her eyes and nodding in resignation. Natalie's lips pursed as she turned back to the shed, hoping desperately to see some kind of movement through the cracks in the wall, some reassurance that her friend was okay.

She knew the meat shed was warmer than the outside, but rational thinking did little to calm the irrational nagging worry.

Under her breath, she said a prayer for Shauna's safety. If anyone in the room had been bold enough to listen in, Natalie would've knocked their fucking teeth out.

Shauna's eyes hadn't left Jackie's corpse in three hours. She was simply sitting on the floor, staring Jackie directly in the face, as if burning her nightmarish expression into her memory, ensuring that for as long as she lived, she would never forget what she looked like in this very moment. Her breath came shallow and slow, barely puffing up in front of her, and her eyelids had drooped as dissociation had seized her. Shauna felt as if she were barely conscious at this point.

And yet, she found it difficult to care.

Shauna found it impossible to tear her eyes away. She felt her stomach sitting heavily in her, now unsettlingly accustomed to the sight of Jackie. She felt as if staring at Jackie was the only thing keeping her from losing herself completely, from falling through the floor and surrendering to the oblivion. As long as she held eye contact, she would never have to leave that shed again.

She could be with Jackie until the end of time, until her breath stopped coming and their flesh sloughed away and their bones tumbled to the floor in two neat, tidy little piles.

She contemplated tearing her own skin open, but decided that staring would suffice. The two were not so different after all, she rationalized.

From the woods outside the shed came a sudden burst of noise, and a flock of birds took startled flight from a tree nearby, and Shauna's head snapped to the side as she realized it was Crystal's singing, and when her gaze returned to Jackie she saw that her head had turned as well.

Shauna scrambled forward, eyes wide in horrified disbelief, and she reached out to grab Jackie's shoulders and shake her awake, but as she took her jacket in her freezing hands and blinked to clear the dissociation from her vision, she saw that Jackie's head was as still and resolute as ever, still framed by her frozen brown locks, buffered against the wooden wall in the same place it had been only seconds before.

Shauna sat back on her heels, staring in horror at the stillness of Jackie's face. She watched it closer than ever, trying desperately to catch any motion, the slightest hint of any sign of life.

None came.

Shauna felt the burning sensation of bile rising in her throat.

Though she had told herself she had accepted reality, as she sat there staring at the devastatingly still Jackie, the realization of her death seemed to hit her all over again, powerful enough to make her feel like her lungs were being crushed, like her heartbeat was stuttering into sickening atrophy.

Jackie Taylor was fucking dead.

If, in that moment, Shauna had had any tears left to cry, she would find they stubbornly refused to come, for she had forgotten how to let them.

She wasn't exactly sure what possessed her to do it. But her lips had moved of their own accord, forming Jackie's name between them and whispering it to the silence of the shed, spoken in a tone that suggested Shauna was terrified to let anyone apart from Jackie hear. Part of Shauna knew that she couldn't respond, that Jackie's lips were frozen shut, that no matter how much she tried and whatever she said, there would be nothing for Jackie to say in return.

And yet, here she was, kneeling in the dirt, dazed and barely conscious, whispering her name almost as if in reverence, and hoping against hope that the body would stir. Would stand. Would open its eyes, would grab Shauna's hand, anything. Anything to prove that the sight Shauna had become eerily used to was an illusion.

Shauna prayed for a break in reality, prayed for a vision, prayed for reassurance that she was not as dreadfully and horribly alone as she felt.

Shauna Shipman prayed that the girl she loved would rise to meet her.

But Jackie Taylor was dead. She was cold and lifeless, laying against the wall of a meat shed in the middle of fucking nowhere, and provided she would last the winter, when spring came, she would be dragged away, devoured, and would return to the earth as bear shit.

Shauna lost count of how many times she'd said Jackie's name. She'd lost count of how many times she'd turned the rosary beads over in her hands.

When her eyelids fluttered open and beheld her altar, Jackie was staring directly back at her, misted and lifeless eyes wide open and locked dreadfully on Shauna in a twisted expression of pure, accusatory rage.

Shauna let out a terrified shriek and leapt to her feet, running as fast as she could for the door to the shed, pushing it open and practically throwing herself into the snow outside, before slamming it shut behind her and staggering backwards away from the shed. The reintroduction to the freezing winter air pierced Shauna's lungs and burned her throat and nose as she took huge, panicked breaths, trying desperately to rid herself of the image of Jackie's dead, rotting eyes boring holes through her.

For all the hours she had spent staring at Jackie's face, the only thing she now felt herself capable of remembering were those horrific eyes.

There was a commotion behind her as Taissa jumped through the doorway of the cabin and ran outside in a panic, trying to ascertain the source of the shriek; when she saw Shauna nearly bent double, shaking like a leaf in the wind, she ran up to her side and placed an arm around her in a firm but (hopefully) comforting grip. Taissa was trying to ask if Shauna was alright, but Shauna had forgotten how to form anything apart from Jackie's name, and so she repeated it over and over, the name tumbling through her lips in some sick perversion of the prayer she had just whispered to the empty room.

Was she responsible for Jackie opening her eyes? Was that a sign?

The thought hadn't occurred to Shauna, as the fear and adrenaline had easily removed every trace of rational thought from her mind, but the longer Shauna thought about it, the longer she was held in Taissa's embrace...

No.

No. This was some shit Lottie would've thought up. Dead people don't open their eyes, Shauna rationalized.

As soon as that thought entered her mind, though, she was forced to follow the thought, and make a conclusion about what that meant about her. What that meant about her own sanity.

Shauna felt her blood turn to ice.

Taissa's hands rose to Shauna's cheeks and she held them gently, trying to center her gaze and speaking in a soft voice. “Shauna, what happened? What did you see?”

Shauna's eyes darted to and fro, left and right, before settling finally on Taissa's face. She looked concerned.

”I saw Jackie,“ Shauna whispered out. Taissa furrowed her eyebrows and blinked once in disbelief, not comprehending what she had just heard.

”I saw Jackie,“ Shauna repeated, her tone stronger this time. “She opened her eyes.”

Now Taissa was genuinely concerned.

“What do you mean, she opened her eyes, Shauna? Jackie's dead; she can't open her eyes.”

Natalie, Van, Misty, Travis, Gen, and Mari had slipped through the door as well and gathered on the porch, watching the scene unfold.

“I know,” Shauna said hurriedly, “I know she can't and I know she's...”

The word did not want to volunteer itself to be spoken.

“I know she can't,” Shauna continued, swallowing the awful feeling that surfaced at the thought of saying that word out loud. “But I saw it, Tai, I saw her open her eyes and look at me. I—I saw it, Tai, I swear to God, I saw it—”

Taissa wrapped her arms around Shauna and pulled her into a tight embrace. Shauna stood baffled for a moment before awkwardly returning the gesture and hugging Taissa back, mumbling incoherently into her shoulder, keeping her eyes wide open.

Taissa was looking past Shauna, her gaze locked on the metal door of the meat shed.

While the other girls gorged themselves on strips and chunks of seared bear meat, Shauna stayed upstairs in the attic, sitting on a stool by the window, and gazing out at the wooden walls of the meat shed. This had become her element, she figured; this is what she was meant to do, was to gaze longingly and sadly at the meat shed. Maybe that was pathetic, she told herself. Maybe she didn't give a shit.

Whenever Shauna blinked or tried to shuffle off the pervasive gnawing feeling of sleep deprivation, the only things she could see in that half-second of blackness were Jackie's staring eyes. Predatory, animalistic, and filled with a vitriolic anger that Shauna had never seen. She wished with all her heart that she could've left that memory in the shed.

She thought back to the argument on the night Jackie died. She cursed herself for allowing her friendship to be ruined by her own bottled-up emotions. She cursed herself for leaving a paper trail. She should've known better.

Shauna then proceeded to kick herself in the ass for realizing her disappointment about leaving a paper trail in that fucking journal rivalled her grief about losing her best friend since childhood.

Shauna took a deep breath and stared out the window, shallow, exhausted breath clouding the panes. She wished she could apologize. If she couldn't apologize, she wished she could take it back. If she couldn't take it back... well, she reasoned, she already couldn't take it back. Apologizing to Jackie was the easy part, she thought. All she had to do was pop in the meat shed and spill her heart to the apparition in Jackie's place. Maybe it would be easier to be honest, knowing Jackie's fierce bite wouldn't come, no matter what she said.

And then she thought of her eyes again, and all thoughts of existing in the same space as the not-Jackie vanished from her mind.

Shauna wished she had alcohol.

From behind her came two soft raps on the wooden floor, so quiet that Shauna might've easily missed them had she been even slightly more incoherent, but as it was, she turned to see Natalie's blonde hair poking up through the attic entrance. She was wearing the same expression as during the meeting at the meat shed earlier, that mix of pity and grief that Shauna had supposed she was likely wearing too.

“Can I come up?” Natalie asked gently. Shauna nodded and turned back to the windowpane.

Hoisting herself up the ladder, Natalie slowly made her way over to the window to stand beside Shauna, silent the entire time. Once she took her place, leaning against the wall with her thumbs in her pants pockets, she said in a quiet voice, “How're ya doing, Shipman?”

Shauna almost chuckled at the sincerity and innocence of the question. “Well, let's see,” she began, in a voice far too jovial for what she was about to say. “I'm exhausted, I've had it up to here with Crystal's singing, and I hallucinated my best friend coming back from the dead today. Sounds like a pretty typical weekday for me.”

Natalie actually did chuckle at this, and Shauna felt the corners of her mouth lift ever so slightly. If nothing else, she supposed, Natalie was the perfect person to make dark jokes with. “Sounds like a normal day for the de facto captain of the best high-school soccer team in the nation,” Natalie said, letting her own infectious smile permeate her words in that special brand of Scatorccio sarcasm that Shauna was secretly ridiculously fond of.

“Yeah, no fuckin' kidding,“ Shauna replied.

A beat of silence.

”Listen,“ Natalie said, ”I know you didn't hear it because you were out with Jackie, but... I wanted to say that I talked to Tai while you were out there.“

”Yeah?“ Shauna prodded.

”Yeah,“ Natalie replied, a tinge of nervousness to her voice. ”And I wanted to say that... I understand. I get how hard it is to cope with grief like this.“

Shauna scoffed, and Natalie play-punched her in the shoulder. ”Don't be fucking rude!“ she said, and Shauna felt herself smile, genuinely smile, for the first time in days.

”I'm not gonna come up here and say that I know every single thing you're feeling,“ Natalie said, ”because I don't. I'm not you and I'm not in your head. But what I do know is that I've been in your shoes before, Ship. I get how grief can fuck with you. Trust me.“

Shauna turned to face Natalie and furrowed her eyebrows ever so slightly, silently asking Natalie to elaborate. Natalie immediately broke eye contact.

”I know that you and Jackie were close,” Natalie said, probably in an effort to break the tension. “I'm not gonna ask how close, but I can see that this is really fucking with you. I heard what you said happened earlier in the shed, and I wanted you to know that I don't think you imagined it.”

Shauna immediately looked up, locking eyes again with Nat. “What do you mean, you don't think I imagined it?”

“Well, I mean,” Natalie stumbled, “like I said. Grief can fuck you up. It makes you see shit sometimes. Hear shit, feel shit. It's not uncommon.”

Shauna fell back on her stool, as if considering the possibility. An incredibly odd feeling stirred in her chest, and the longer Shauna sat with it, the more comfortable she felt with calling it vindication.

“If you think you saw something,“ Natalie continued, ”then I'm not gonna be the one to deny it. I got your back, Shipman. You get a pass to process this shit however you can, as long as you promise to come out the other side.“

Another beat of silence, broken this time by Shauna. “Why do you care what happens once I process this?”

“Because you're my friend, dumbass.”

Shauna looked at Natalie incredulously. ”I didn't think you still wanted to be friends, Nat... I mean, after the whole thing with Travis at Doomcoming, I know I probably really fucked with you—“

Natalie reached out and placed a hand on Shauna's shoulder. ”Listen, Shauna. You fucked up. You almost did something really fucked up to someone I care about, probably more than I'd care to admit to him.“

Shauna felt the heat of embarrassment prickle at the back of her neck, feeling sheepish as she allowed herself to experience such a simple reaction after an act of attempted murder.

”But,“ Natalie continued, ”there's one crucial fact that has to be taken into account. You didn't. You didn't hurt him, and you didn't kill him. You let him go, even with all that shit in your system. That counts for something.”

Natalie pulled her hand away and took a gentle step back. “So, yes, even though I'm pissed at you for almost slitting Travis' throat, you get a pass just this once. Because your best friend just got turned into a fucking Popsicle.”

Shauna snorted with laughter at this, and immediately wished she hadn't, but honestly felt she desperately needed the laugh as well. Natalie showed Shauna a gentle smile, then in a single motion, a single, slightly halting, slightly hesitant motion, took Shauna in her arms and hugged her close.

Shauna immediately and without question returned the hug, holding Natalie to her and reaching up to brush a thumb against her hair.

Warmth radiated through the entire attic, and Shauna felt as if she could drown in it.

“I trust you, Shauna,” came Natalie's muffled voice, low and husky and soft. “I believe you. Even if the other girls don't, I do.”

Shauna felt tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes, so she took the opportunity to hug Natalie harder.

The two girls stayed locked in each other's arms for a long moment, before Natalie gently and slowly pulled away. Shauna wiped away the tears before Natalie could see, and let out a deep breath. “Thank you, Nat,” she said in the most apologetic and sincere voice she could muster. “Really, thank you.”

Natalie gently clapped Shauna on the shoulder and smiled again. “That's what friends are for, Ship.”

As she turned and walked away, back to the ladder to downstairs, in a voice just quiet enough for Shauna to hear, “If you tell the other girls that I said all that shit, I'll kick your ass.”

Shauna held up a weak thumbs up, before realizing how stupid of a gesture that was and bringing her hand back down. “Y—yeah. Of course, Nat. I promise.”

Natalie chuckled again and started her descent down, but paused halfway down to take one more glance at Shauna.

“Take care of yourself, Shipman.”

And with that, she ducked out of view and was gone.

Shauna's eyes held on the spot Natalie disappeared, as she felt the calm glow of a much-needed hug wash over her. She had been absolutely certain that Natalie would've harbored some lifelong grudge against her for what she'd tried to do to Travis, and the news that Natalie was not only capable of setting that aside, but also of holding Shauna in a positive light... for the first time in quite a while, Shauna felt a glimmer of hope spark to life within her chest.

It was almost a foreign feeling to her after these harsh, devastating months alone, but one she cherished nonetheless.

As she turned back to the cloudy window to gaze at Jackie's shed again, she felt a comfortable resolve, fueled by the knowledge that her seeing Jackie move was indeed in her brain, but wasn't something to be afraid of. Like Natalie said, it was a manifestation of the grief that she had felt, and an example of just how much she cared for Jackie.

Without Shauna's care, without her love, Jackie would be lost forever. She would stay in the shed, cold, stiff, blue, and alone. It was only within the realm of Shauna's gaze that Jackie would be anchored back to reality, seized by the scruff of her neck and pulled back into the land of the living.

If Shauna wasn't Shauna without Jackie, she reasoned, Jackie wasn't Jackie without Shauna.

Shauna felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

Without Shauna's love, Jackie would disappear.

Shauna would do anything to make sure that wouldn't happen.

It was an unfortunate reality of the situation that the downstairs living room of the cabin where most of the girls congregated was, in fact, quite small. Despite how it might've looked on the outside, after weeks of solitude and cabin fever, the room seemed to curl in on itself a few inches more every day.

As such, when Van needed to have a private talk with Taissa the following morning, she had little choice but to relegate the pair of them to a corner of the room and hold an entire conversation in whispers.

It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they could do.

When Van had asked to talk in a private corner in the best hushed tone she could manage, Taissa had gently sat down across from her, holding eye contact and raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

When Van spoke, it was in the tone of a child confessing an accident to a parent.

“I think I'm gonna talk to Lottie about this.”

Taissa immediately had to stifle her incredulity. ”W—what? About the deal with Jackie and Shauna? What the fuck, Van? Why on earth would you want to drag her into this?”

“You said it yourself, Tai, she spent three hours out there with her in the shed, God knows what she actually did with her—”

“She was grieving, Natalie told me! She said it was normal! If Lottie gets involved, who knows what that'll do to Shauna's head.”

Van took a deep breath before speaking in that halting, hesitant tone she used when trying to keep an argument from happening. “I just think... that Lottie might want to know about it. Maybe she could help Shauna through this, help her process it a bit more.”

Taissa sat back and said nothing, considering the pros and cons of roping in the cabin's professional mystic. Van placed a gentle hand on Taissa's knee. “Maybe, she could give Shauna some advice. Maybe even give her one of those pendants, huh? Keep her safe?”

Taissa scoffed and spoke without thinking. ”Yeah, because they worked so well the last time.“

As soon as the words passed through her lips, Taissa wished she could've taken them back. Van immediately retracted her hand; her face changed into an expression of confusion and resentment. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” she whispered out.

Taissa took a breath and turned to face her again. “I didn't mean... I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out like that, but it's just...”

Taissa trailed off, staring at a spot just beyond Van's shoulder and trying to figure out how to convey what she was thinking in a way that didn't make her sound like an accusatory asshole.

She took a deep breath and started slow.

”When I woke up in the tree that night,“ she began, ”I was wearing the pendant she gave you. I don't know how I got it, I don't know when I got it, but when I woke up, I was up there and it was around my neck. And because it was with me, that means it wasn't with you, and if it was with you, then maybe... maybe, y'know...“

”I wouldn't have been attacked,“ Van supplied. Taissa nodded.

”So you think,“ Van said quietly, ”that you're responsible for what happened to my face?“

Taissa stood stock still, eyes fixed at the space between her feet, giving no answer. Van leaned back on her palms and sighed out a long breath. ”That's pretty hardcore, Tai.“

Taissa turned to her, eyebrows furrowed. ”What do you mean, 'hardcore?' Is it that hard to believe that I feel at least a little bit responsible for it?”

Van closed the space again, in what Tai supposed could be nervously fidgeting. “No, Tai, no no no. That's not hard to believe, that's not what I was saying. I was just saying that, given the fact that it was wolves that attacked us and not you, y'know... you shouldn't feel personally responsible for something that wasn't personally your fault.“

Taissa felt that pressure behind her eyes that meant tears were coming. ”Van, I do feel personally responsible. I was supposed to keep watch and warn you all if something happened, and because of my fucked up brain, I put you all in danger; I almost got you killed, for Christ’s sakes. And Van, I don't ascribe to Lottie's bullshit but I can't deny that there's a part of me, a decent part of me, that thinks that if you... if you had that pendant before they came at you, then maybe it wouldn't have happened.“

Van took Taissa's hands in her own, rubbing her thumbs gently across her skin. When she spoke, it was quiet and calming, a stark contrast to Taissa's panic.

“You are not to blame for that, Tai. You didn't send those things after us, did you? You didn't lead them to us, did you? You tried your best to keep us safe, and you took on the role of a fucking leader.” Her voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, a small smile crossing her face. “And in the end, you ended up saving my life, and doing so in an incredibly sexy way that I still find myself thinking about.”

Taissa, so lost in her own spiral, involuntarily let out a small chuckle at that.

“I didn't know that you've been holding onto this guilt, baby.”

The petname made Taissa's cheeks flush. Van moved, sliding next to Taissa rather than across from her, and took one of her hands in both of her own.

”But even if you are holding onto this, you are not to blame. The pendant is not to blame. It was a really shitty, harrowing accident, but that's all it was. And if you think the pendant played a role in it, and if it would make you upset to see it again, then I'll do the honorable thing and... keep Lottie out of it.“

Tai turned to face Van in surprise, her face apologetic and streaked with tear tracks. At the sight of her, Van quickly pulled her into a tight embrace, one that Taissa returned with shaking breaths. The two shared the silent hug, and Taissa felt more tears drip down her cheeks.

”Thank you,“ Taissa said into Van's shoulder. Van nodded and planted a small, discreet kiss on Taissa's cheek, before burying her face in her Tai again.

When the pair broke apart, Taissa took Van's hands and traced small patterns over her skin with her thumb. ”If...“ she began, trying to keep the tears from bleeding into her words. ”If you want to get Lottie involved, then you can go ahead. It shouldn't be up to me to determine how you go about caring for your friend. If you think the pendant would work, then you have the right to be open about it. Considering what you've been through, I trust your word more than mine at this point.”

Van scoffed. “I just said that the pendant's no big deal, baby! If you're not comfy with it, then I'll let Shauna deal with it however she wants to. It's not up to me, either.”

Taissa, taken aback, started to babble out a rebuttal, and Van chuckled at the sight and continued. “Shauna's her own person, Tai, and I trust her to cope however she can. As long as it's not hurting anybody, I mean... how much harm could she really do to herself?”

Taissa bit her lip in the way that Van thought was so beautifully 'Taissa.'

“Okay,” she whispered out. “I trust Shauna. If she's doing something that'll hurt herself, she'll tell us. She'll reach out.”

“She'll reach out,” Van echoed. “She's a smart girl. Like you.”

Taissa nodded. Van scooted closer until she was leaning up against Taissa, and the change in proximity made Taissa's breath hitch.

“So... will you come to my rescue again if anything else tries to eat me out here? Or will you be the one trying to eat me?”

Van wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Taissa almost decked her, choosing instead to dissolve into a fit of nervous giggling and playfully pushing Van away. Van smiled a huge smile, before leaning over and resting her head on Tai's shoulder.

In the space between them, hidden in the shadows from everyone in the room but the pair of them, Van held Tai's hand a little tighter than usual.

From the other side of the room, Lottie stopped listening.

The sight of the airplane door made Shauna want to run. It filled her with a nauseating sense of dread that quickened her breath and flexed her calves, and filled her brain with visions of not-Jackie's murderous eyes.

But Shauna knew she couldn't run. She knew she couldn't avoid this, couldn't not face this. She couldn't let not-Jackie sit in there alone by herself forever, until some hulking, snuffling, ravenous thing came and stole away the one chance Shauna had to apologize.

No. She deserved better than that. They both deserved better than that.

Shauna extended a quivering hand and grabbed the handle, and it creaked in her palm as she slowly and gently pulled the door away from the wall, and then the door was open, and there was nothing separating Shauna from not-Jackie.

And so Shauna strode inside, and she closed her eyes as tightly as she possibly could. She squeezed them until they hurt, until her body begged her to open her eyes again and behold the sight of not-her, sitting there and waiting for Shauna.

Her eyes fluttered open, and beheld what was left of the bear carcass, filaments and tendons hanging loosely over dense, packed strips of maroon muscle.

When Shauna turned, she saw not-Jackie.

When Shauna turned, Jackie saw her.

The horrified scream froze in Shauna's throat before she had a chance to scream it, and so she waited, and she dug her heels into the ground in an effort to keep herself from turning and fleeing again. Not-Jackie was sitting where Shauna had left her, hands on her thighs, hair frozen in tendrils around her, and her eyes were open again. Not-Jackie stared directly at Shauna, through Shauna, bearing the same horrific, twisted expression on her face, that same furious anger in her clouded sightless eyes.

She must not run. Look away if you have to, but don't you dare run.

Shauna stared at the floor and took a step on trembling legs, and it felt as if it took an eternity. Not-Jackie only stared.

Shauna took another step. Not-Jackie stared.

Shauna took a final step. Not-Jackie stared.

Shauna sat down and took a place directly in front of not-Jackie, still doing everything she could to avoid looking directly at her. She was building her strength for the moment where she would be left with no other choice.

And when that moment came, Shauna's eyes locked with Jackie's.

The two girls stared at each other, Shauna too terrified to say a word, Jackie too incensed to.

The seconds droned by. The leaves outside rustled in the freezing afternoon air.

”Hi,“ Shauna whispered out.

Shauna imagined Jackie saying, ”Shipman.“

Fuck. Even in Shauna's imagination, Jackie was still capable of being a callous bitch.

”How are you?“ Shauna asked, in a tone utterly unbefitting the situation.

”How am I?“ Shauna imagined. ”I'm just peachy, Shipman. Though I'm feeling a bit chilly, does this place feel drafty to you?“

”Very funny,“ Shauna snapped back.

”I can't believe this is what you're choosing to do.“

”I don't think I have a choice, Jax.“

”Oh, don't start with the fucking nicknames, Shipman. You know I fucking hated that nickname.“

”No, you didn't.“

”Yes, I did. I only put up with it because you seemed to be utterly incapable of coming up with anything else to call me.“

”Okay, so... do you wanna fix that? What do you want me to call you?“

”Why do you have to call me anything other than 'Jackie?'“

”Jackie works.“

”Fine.“

Silence.

”Are you cold?“ Shauna asked. ”I can bring you a blanket from inside.“

”I honestly don't think it'd do me much good, Shipman.“

”Okay. God, I just asked if you were cold, you don't have to be a bitch about it.“

”I'm not being a bitch.“

”Yes, you are.“

”No, I'm not. If I'm being a bitch, it's because you're imagining me being a bitch. Or did you forget that you're in total control of this situation?“

Shauna bit her lip.

“Puppeting me around like a fuckin... sock puppet. Hand up the ass and everything.”

Shauna nearly got up to leave. ”Y'know, I didn't want to have to do this. I thought you'd be more understanding of this.“

Shauna scoffed. “Oh, you thought I'd be understanding of this? Why's that, Shipman? Because I didn't have a choice? Because you're in control here? Because I don't have a fucking mouth anymore? I'm not going along with whatever crazy shit you have up in your head, and I'm not gonna be the perfect little princess you so obviously think I am.”

A flash of the argument in Shauna's mind.

”Look, I... I didn't mean that. I—“

”Aww, are you gonna tell me that you didn't mean what you said in the argument you started right before I fucking died? Right before I froze to death because you were too much of a coward to come out and bring me back in? I thought you were supposed to be my friend, Shipman, and friends don't stab each other in the fucking back.“

A tear slipped down Shauna's cheek; before it could fall, the winter air seeping through the shed froze it solid.

”I'm sorry, Jackie.“

”Prove it.“

A beat of silence. Shauna drew a deep, shuddering breath.

Release.

”That's better,“ Jackie said. ”Jeez, the least you could've done is give me some of my own agency here.“

”I'm sorry,“ Shauna squeaked out.

”And can you stop fucking apologizing over every little thing? It's making you sound like a housewife.“

Shauna nodded. Jackie propped herself up against the wall, crossing her feet at the ankles and resting her hands in her lap.

”So what now, Shipman? You gonna try and work through your issues with me? Gonna try a little talk therapy?”

“I wanted to apologize,” Shauna said, a little more confidently.

“Ooh, that sounds fun,” said Jackie. “Should I set up a campfire in here? Should I sing Kumbaya?”

“I wanted to apologize for the argument,” Shauna continued, disregarding Jackie's snide comment, “and I wanted to apologize about Jeff.”

Jackie scoffed. ”You can fuckin' have Jeff; I don't think he'll be that distraught over losing me anyway when obviously he was more into you to begin with.“

“Don't say that—”

“Or maybe,” Jackie continued, leaning forward and gazing off into the distance, “maybe he's just that hypnotized by you. Plain, simple, reliable, boring you. Y'know what? In that regard you two are a perfect match.”

Shauna felt the back of her neck fizzle with embarrassment. “It wasn't like that, Jackie...”

“It wasn't like that?” Jackie said, locking eyes on Shauna and leaning forward in confusion. “You stole him out from under me and you're having his fucking baby in the middle of the wilderness. He was too much of a bitch to be with me, so you swooped in and took advantage of him because you knew how I felt about him.”

“That's not what happened—”

“Or maybe, just maybe, you were so eager to be with him because that was the closest you were ever gonna get to being me. Couldn't measure up to one of the hot ones, so you did the next best thing and fucked her boyfriend, who would inevitably be too stupid to deny free pussy.“

Shauna felt like hitting her.

Jackie's lips curled in a pitying smile. ”Did I touch a nerve? Sorry. I don't have working nerves anymore, so feel free to cut into me any time.”

“You know what?” Shauna spat, holding up her hands in indignation. “Yeah. I fucked Jeff. I fucked him after that stupid party just before the flight, right after I dropped you off at your house and before he drove me home. We pulled off to the side of the road and he fucked the shit outta me.”

Jackie's face contorted in equal measures of disgust and fury.

“I initiated because I wanted to feel what it was like to fuck somebody who loved me. I wanted him to love me. I asked him to say that while he did it.”

“Okay, Jesus, Shipman. I don't need the fucking play-by-play, you're gonna make me wish I was able to blow chunks, and that's just fuckin' sad.”

“Because I don't know what the fuck I'm feeling,” Shauna continued, again ignoring Jackie's protestations. ”Because I am so fucking wrapped up in my own shit that I just... needed it. I needed someone to tell me they loved me.“

Jackie's eyebrows arched. ”Never mind. That's the saddest thing about this.“

”Why is that sad, Jackie?“ Shauna asked breathlessly. ”Why is it sad for someone to want to be loved by someone who actually gives a shit?”

“Because love doesn't fucking matter, Shipman,” Jackie spat back. “You did a fantastic job of proving that yourself.”

Shauna was silent. Jackie rolled her eyes and sat back against the wall. ”Love doesn't matter, because if it did, Jeff would've said no. If it did, you would've stayed true to me, and not stolen that experience away from me.“

”What do you—“

”Oh, come ON, Shipman!“ Jackie said indignantly. ”You knew Jeff was a virgin before you! You knew I was too because I told you fucking everything! You KNEW that I wanted to be Jeff's first, and you stole that away from me so that you could get your emotional fix for the night. That's a fucked thing to do, Shauna.“

Jackie's use of her first name sent a shiver down Shauna's spine. It sounded far too familiar. Far too intimate.

”I know,“ Shauna admitted. ”I know it's fucked. I know I fucked up, and I know I can't take it back, and I know I'm gonna give birth to this fucking baby out here and it's gonna be hell, but... the whole reason I came out here, the whole reason I'm talking to you now is so that I can apologize for it.“

Jackie stayed quiet, but gazed at Shauna in curiosity.

“I'm sorry,” Shauna continued. “I'm sorry I slept with Jeff. I put my needs before your wants and that was never how our friendship was supposed to be.”

Jackie raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I have spent so fucking long wishing that I could take it back, Jackie. I get how messed up it is, I understand. And I never wanted to hurt you; I didn't do any of this to hurt you. I was just...”

“Just?”

“I was...”

Shauna couldn't give an answer.

Jackie sighed disappointedly and said nothing. Shauna contemplated moving closer and begging on her hands and knees. If that's what it took, she supposed.

“Maybe I'm just a shitty person,” Shauna conceded. “Maybe I did wanna hurt you because... I'm just awful.”

“Oh, give me a fucking break,” said Jackie. “Don't start with the self-pitying shit. You're too smart for that.”

Shauna's eyes darted up to meet Jackie's.

“Listen,” Jackie said. “I... I'm still fucking pissed at you for Jeff. I think I'm gonna be pissed for a long time. I don't know if I'll ever not be pissed. But... I guess...”

Jackie shifted uncomfortably.

“Maybe you don't deserve all the blame here.”

Shauna felt that little glimmer of hope inside her chest again.

”I guess... I could've... been nicer to you. Bringing it up in front of everyone for the sake of that argument was a shitty thing to do, too. I could've at least given you the pleasure of kicking your ass and breaking up with you in private.“

Shauna choked out a small chuckle.

Jackie's tone changed.

“Why does it make you laugh to hear me talk about breaking up with you, Shipman?”

Shauna froze. “W—what..?”

“Why do you want me to talk about breaking up with you? Did you forget that you're in control here?”

Shauna spluttered. “I... I didn't—”

Jackie leaned forward again. “Or did you forget that you're making me say all this?”

Shauna's eyes widened in horror.

“This is how you want me to talk. This isn't how I would normally talk to you, Shipman, and you know that. This isn't real. I'm not real.”

Shauna moved away from not-Jackie. “What the fuck do you mean?”

“None of this is real, Shipman. I'm dead, remember?“

Silence.

”Wow...“ Shauna imagined. ”We'll, uhm. We'll discuss that later. That and the breaking up thing.“

A tear fell and froze before it hit the ground.

”What the fuck do you want from me?“ Shauna asked, her voice quivering with terror.

Not-Jackie lunged forward.

Shauna barely had time to react before not-Jackie's frozen corpse was on top of her, pinning her back to the ground under a million pounds of dead weight, her frozen decaying hand holding Shauna's mouth shut, lifeless and pale eyes open garishly wide and staring directly into Shauna's terrified ones.

Shauna couldn't remember ever being more scared.

Not-Jackie's head began to drop down towards Shauna, down, down, down, closer and closer and closer...

As Shauna watched, not-Jackie's frozen lips made contact with the hand covering Shauna's mouth, and held that position, still and freezing cold.

Shauna would feel disgusted if she was capable of feeling anything apart from abject terror.

Not-Jackie's fingers dug into Shauna's cheek, her lips almost frozen to the skin of her hand, and then Shauna closed her eyes as tightly as she possibly could, and when she felt brave enough to open them not-Jackie was sitting back against the wall of the cabin, lifeless and frozen and blue, hands resting on her thighs and hair frozen around her face.

Shauna had forgotten how to breathe.

Her eyes were incapable of seeing anything but not-Jackie.

From outside the shed, a bird called, and snow fell from a branch onto the frozen ground below.

Shauna wished she were dead.

The baby kicked.