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Melissa isn't stupid. She doesn’t tell Gen why she wants the front pieces of her hair braided that day.
“Like, this much?”
Gen is crouched in front of her in the dirt, her own dark hair twisted into a complicated fishtail style. She's holding a small handful of Melissa's blonde waves aloft.
Melissa nods. About that much seems right.
“I can't believe you never learned to do this,” Gen mutters, mostly to herself. “How?”
It's not a real question because they both already know the answer. Melissa has grown up only with older brothers, has always been a tomboy, has never much cared one way or another about fancy hairstyles.
For Gen, these things come easy. It only takes her a couple of moments to pull and twist the strands of hair into even shapes.
“There,” she says, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “Looks cute on you, Mel.”
Melissa blushes, and Gen's cheshire-cat grin only grows. Melissa isn't stupid, so she hasn’t told her, but she suspects Gen might have guessed. And maybe Melissa isn't being all that subtle, staring and stumbling all week.
She kissed Shauna Shipman! She did that! How could Melissa possibly stay low-key about that?
It's been at least twenty minutes since Shauna took her journal and slipped away from the rest of them. Enough time has passed for Melissa to follow her while still remaining appropriately nonchalant and hopefully not looking too stalker-y. Because she's playing it cool. Keeping things casual.
Trying not to make it obvious that she's totally and completely freaking the freak out about this plan actually maybe working?
Melissa touches her braids one more time, satisfied. Then she scrambles upright, brushing the dirt from her clothes and grabbing her hat.
“Thanks,” she says to Gen, grinning, mind on Shauna.
For a moment, even in her distracted state, Melissa notices Gen's face fall and settle into something stony. Wary, even. As if she wants to say don't do it. As if she wants to say be careful.
But it's just for a moment. Just a tiny, fleeting moment.
“Catch you later for dinner,” Melissa says, and Gen nods in assent. The bright smile is back in place.
Turning on her heel, Melissa follows Shauna's tracks from twenty minutes earlier. She recognises her shoeprints on the camp's dirt floor. Crap, that sounds totally stalker-y, doesn’t it? I'm screwed, aren't I?
A few paces away, Mari and her posse snigger.
Double crap. Has she been talking to herself out loud? Idiot. Melissa slams on her hat to cover up her blushing.
“Hey! Don't you dare put that filthy old thing on top of my masterpiece!” Gen calls from the other side of camp, mockingly pleading. Melissa doesn’t listen. Out here no hairstyle, not even a girly one like this, feels complete without the hat.
It's dark, they're all gathered around the campfire, and Melissa is buzzing.
Shauna had held her hand in front of everyone! Hers! In front of everyone!
Sure, it had been a little unconventional. Certainly not what Gen would describe as a romantic moment, the kind they sometimes fantasise about having one day if they manage to make it back to their real high school lives. None of those imagined scenarios have ever involved an arsonist coach on trial or a bunch of girls shouting at each other over whether he should live or die.
No, holding hands with Shauna Shipman wasn’t like a fantasy. In Melissa's opinion, it was better. Far better.
Not only are the others starting to see what Melissa's always known, that Shauna is innately more powerful and influential than any of the rest of them, but they're also now learning exactly where Melissa stands: right by Shauna's side.
Not powerful herself, but conveniently power adjacent. Melissa's going to be the Kingmaker (or queen-maker, maybe?), exactly the way she likes it. Part protector, part protected. It's fucking perfect.
None of the others seem to be sharing Melissa's enthusiasm. Maybe because their adrenaline's been worn down by the day's events: the buildup to Coach's near-execution, the shock of Lottie and Akilah's sudden intervention. Melissa's definitely getting a weird look or two from the likes of Robin and Mari; even she can admit it's a strange time to be biting down a smile.
Even Shauna, who's standing across from her, seems distant. Drawn into herself, arms crossed. Melissa burns with the desire to know exactly what she's thinking about. Coach? Lottie and Akilah's weirder-than-usual weirdness? Or maybe… is she thinking about me?
Probably not. Melissa's hopeful, and maybe she's naïve, but she isn't stupid.
The group is discussing Coach. They're going to lock him up with the animals, apparently, but they're divided on whether this will be enough to stop him escaping and making attempt number two at murdering them all as they sleep.
“We took his leg, we took his crutches, he's tied up.” Natalie sounds exhausted, defensive. It's probably the tenth time she's made this point. “C'mon, guys. It's Coach. We know he's not gonna try anything stupid.”
“He tried to set us on fire,” Gen hisses from Melissa's left, “He's basically, like, a serial killer. We have no idea what else he's capable of. I say we make it two for two, take his other leg.”
Melissa shoots Gen a look, sees her seething with white-hot anger. She isn't joking. This girl? This is the Gen who's capable of shooting a deer between the eyes without flinching, not the one who giggles for hours with Melissa about boys and girls late into the night.
As per usual, nobody really shares Gen's sudden penchant for extreme violence. A few of them, like Mari and Robin, look completely revolted. Van, meanwhile, is rolling her eyes with an audible scoff.
“There's no need to be wasteful,” Tai says, disdainful, “but if Coach Ben really is some kind of bridge to us getting rescue…”
Akilah tucks her head in, looks down.
“It's true,” Lottie answers for her, voice quiet. It's her only contribution to this discussion so far.
“Then we need to be one hundred percent certain he can't possibly escape,” Tai finishes. Tai, she's got this weird ability to make anything sound serious and important. People just follow her orders on impulse, even Melissa.
Everyone thinks on it for a moment. Shauna's still distant, Akilah seems confused and Misty's started crying in an obnoxious way they've all learned to ignore. Everyone else's eyes are on Natalie. She’s been knocked down a peg or two during the trial, sure, but it's obvious they're still supposed to wait for her approval.
“Fine,” she says eventually. There's visible contempt in her eyes even as she's conceding the point. “Cut him, or something.” And just like that their esteemed leader, however reluctantly, has spoken.
There's another weirdly silent moment. This time, they're not looking at Natalie. They're looking at Shauna, Melissa included.
It takes seconds for Shauna to break out of her reverie, but when she does, her expression quickly shifts from distant to resigned. She draws her knife, lets it hang by her side as Natalie gives her a sharp, jerky little nod.
Permission granted to once again be the do-er of everyone else's dirty work, although Melissa suspects Shauna will enjoy performing this task a little more than others. To Shauna this will be vengeance. Payback for the part Coach played in the loss of her baby.
As expected, Shauna stomps off in the direction of the animal pen, but she barely makes it four steps before she turns back. Her eyes flick up to meet Melissa's. For a fleeting moment, her face is open, plaintive. Please, it says.
Melissa's heart must be beating at twice its normal pace, and her palms are sweating even as she balls her hands into fists. It's scary, more than scary, but this is her chance. There's no way Jackie would've gone with her to do this; that bitch could barely stomach the sight of raw meat.
Melissa is going to be more. Better.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she scurries across the dirt to meet Shauna. They cut down Coach in the animal pen together. And nerves aside, Melissa fucking loves it.
Sleeping in Shauna's hut is… strange. Scary. Incredible. Thrilling. And a thousand other words Melissa can't come up with. As far as rewards for cutting a man's Achilles go, this is a pretty incredible one, but at the same time it's fucking terrifying.
The entire first week, Melissa spends most of the night lying awake in the dark, her eyes stubbornly closed, trying hard not to move or breathe loudly or do anything else that might lead to her being kicked out into the cold.
She doesn't get a wink of sleep, but it's worth it. Worth it for the privilege of sleeping on the dirt at Shauna's right. At the literal right hand of the most powerful person out here. Okay sure, maybe the others don't see that part just yet; all that matters right now is that Melissa does.
The next week, things are a little better. Maybe because on the ninth day of cohabitation, Shauna falls asleep with their fingers still interlaced, and Melissa figures this means that she doesn’t have to spend every second agonising over whether or not they're allowed to touch.
By the third week, Melissa manages to fall asleep most nights. At least, she's stopped biting Gen's head off for every minor infraction, so she's clearly a little less exhausted.
Right at the end of that week, though, something else seems to keep her awake.
Maybe it's the moon, round and full and bright, shining through the cracks in the hut's exterior. Or maybe it's her swollen lips and the memory of Shauna's hands on her. Either way, she lies on her back for what feels like hours, until Shauna's breathing evens out and nobody is awake but her and the animals.
It's chilly outside, but somehow the longer Melissa tries to lie still, the hotter and sweatier she feels. Giving up, she inches back, slowly and carefully. She's learned over the last three weeks that Shauna is a light sleeper, but not so sensitive that she'll wake up at the tiniest sound. Melissa can move without disturbing her, but not too much and not too quickly. It's a balancing act.
Once she's an arm's length away, Melissa sits up, pushes herself against the hut's back wall. For a second or two, she holds her breath, but thankfully Shauna doesn’t so much as stir. She still hasn’t learned what will happen if she does disturb Shauna's sleep. She doubts she'll be kicked out into the night, but who'd know?
Drawing her knees up to her chest and scooting as far into the corner as she can get, Melissa leans her head against the hut wall. It's been a strange, exhilarating few weeks. There's barely been a moment to catch her breath.
Part of her wonders what Gen is doing now. Whether she's awake, whether she's missing having Melissa there at her side. Gen never has been able to sleep well when the moon is as bright and full as it is tonight; they've spent many nights like this one talking about nothing and stifling giggles into the early hours of the morning.
Before the crash, Melissa hadn't really had girl-friends. Now that she does, she finds it's become something important to her. She doesn’t want to have to let go of her friendship with Gen just because of whatever this is that's growing with Shauna.
But she can't let go of this, either. It's far too precious, too important. Glancing away from the hut wall and back in Shauna's direction, Melissa can't help but stare.
She sleeps on her side, facing toward the wall and away from Melissa. She always does. Melissa had once made the mistake of sharing that fact with the others when they'd grilled her for details, and a smirking Van had been quick to remind everyone that Shauna had always slept facing toward Jackie, but it doesn’t really matter.
Or Melissa tells herself it doesn’t, anyway. She doesn’t need to measure up to Jackie, because what they share is different. Different in a way that means more, and better. It has to be.
The moonlight flickers, reflecting off of something by Shauna's side. Interest piqued, Melissa holds her breath, leans over a little to try and make out what the offending object is.
Oh. It's the knife. She's holding onto the knife in her sleep. That's, um. Wow.
Against her better judgement, Melissa leans over a little more, sees Shauna's face. Her brow is furrowed, as if she's angry even while unconscious. The fingers of her right hand are wrapped tightly around the knife's hilt.
Melissa wonders if maybe she's dreaming about something scary. Or maybe she fell asleep thinking about the scariness in their real lives.
Either way, this is the real Shauna, Melissa decides. A girl who sleeps curled up to protect herself, holding onto her knife with a white-knuckled grip. That's why Melissa is doing this. Shauna's not a monster, not really. She's hurt, and vulnerable, and was treated like shit—and yes, sure, she's not afraid to lash out—but only at people who deserve it. Well, okay, usually at people who deserve it.
She seems smaller in sleep. Melissa remembers being six or seven and guarding one of her cats, Toffee, from being hurt in one of her older brothers' rough games. Toffee had been hissy and feral in the daytime and vulnerable in sleep, too.
She'd spent hours stubbornly sat in front of the cardboard box where Toffee slept, telling her brothers over and over again to leave him alone, play chasey with someone your own size. Her brothers had scoffed and said you're such a girl, such a cry-baby, but for once Melissa hadn't minded.
You can sleep, she'd whispered in Toffee's furry ear, I'll make sure they don’t get ya.
It seems ridiculous to even imagine doing the same for Shauna. For once thing, she'd definitely be booted out of here if she tried whispering anything sappy like that in Shauna's general direction.
Still, Melissa thinks, she'd maybe like to try.
Honestly, when Natalie stumbles from the animal pen with blood streaked across her face, Melissa is sort of impressed. She didn’t think Natalie the saint had it in her, and definitely not with Coach. Of course, once Gen arrives at her side, snarling with anger, Melissa remembers to be furious.
She's not really sure whether she ever believed in the whole 'bridge' thing (Gen definitely did, Shauna didn’t) but even so, it's a crazy kind of hypocritical for Natalie to just go ahead and murder him without even trying to consult the group.
It feels good to tell Natalie to shut the fuck up. It feels even better to watch Gen shove her to the ground.
Are they finally seeing it now? Natalie isn't the glorious leader they were all led to revere. She isn't anything, really. Nothing like Shauna. She's weak. She's useless, and she's selfish.
Melissa doesn’t listen to much of the fighting after that, even though Gen and Misty and some of the others are most definitely itching to tear Natalie from limb to limb. The only words that Melissa really cares to hear are Lottie's.
Shauna will lead us.
When everyone's dispersed to go and prepare for their feast, to gather their ceremonial cloaks and weave feathers into their hair, Melissa stays by Shauna's side. Smiles up at her, a warm and uninhibited smile. This is it. This is what Melissa knows Shauna's been waiting for.
Shauna doesn’t smile back exactly, but the icy coldness of her eyes thaws a little, and her face softens. While the others might see callousness mixed with determination, Melissa knows her better than that. This moment is relief, it's long-awaited vindication. And in Shauna's mind, maybe it's even justice.
Melissa reaches out, grabs Shauna's hand for just a second or two and holds it tight. She's done it. Queen-made. She's been waiting for this moment too, in her own way. She's safe.
As Shauna lets go of her hand with a ghost of a smile, walks over to start Natalie's punishment, Melissa wonders: is this what safety feels like?
It's still a little scary, just scary in a different way. Maybe because Melissa knows that with one wrong move, one false play, it could still all be ripped out from under her. Today's events, the abruptness of Natalie's fall from grace, only serve to prove that.
Is this it? Am I safe?
I’m safe. She’s safe, and everything’s been worth it. Melissa needs to believe that.
Shauna comes back to camp holding a woman hostage at knifepoint. She looks Melissa right in the eye as she's hunched over on the ground, bleeding, a bloody hole left in her shoulder where the arrow's been shoved out, and she says nothing. Nothing.
She just takes Hannah the hostage and walks off, without so much as glancing backward. Melissa wonders if she's imagining Gen's breath catching at the sight of it, Gen grabbing her uninjured arm and squeezing for just a minute.
For a while, Melissa busies herself with useless thoughts. Like: what if Shauna just needs to get the immediate threat (Hannah) under control, and then she'll come and check on me? Or: what if Shauna just didn’t notice that I'm, like, bleeding out over here?
But a while passes, and then a little longer, and Melissa now knows that Shauna isn't coming.
Once the bleeding stops for long enough to be deemed satisfactory, Gen and Mari help bandage Melissa's shoulder, and Shauna isn't there. By daybreak, they've managed to put her arm in a sling, stolen from the scientists' medical kit. On Gen's suggestion, they're now braiding her hair in two big chunks to keep it out of the way.
Gen orders Melissa to sit down on an upturned log, which is if nothing else an improvement from the dirt floor. She takes half Melissa's hair, and Mari takes the other half, and Shauna still isn't there.
Melissa knows her hair-braiding now, Gen's been teaching her. It's actually not that hard. You take three chunks of hair, all about the same size. Over and under, over and under, until you get to the straggly bits at the end, and then you know it's time to tie it all off.
Sure, she can't do fancy French braids or fishtail styles like Gen's, but she's proudly managed to get the basics down. It's easier than the sailor's knots she'd learned long ago from her boy-scout brothers.
Even the simplest style is almost impossible, though, with only one working arm.
Gen's fingers are slow and gentle on one side of her head, while Mari's are almost frenetic on the other.
“Fuck this stupid place, fuck Lottie, fuck all of this fucking bullshit,” Mari is cursing viciously under her breath, tugging a little harder than necessary at Melissa's hair, until Gen gives her a shove.
“Not helping, Mar.”
Mar is only here with them because Shauna threatened her, Melissa knows, but it wouldn’t really do any good for either of them to point that out.
Gen ties off her braided section first. Melissa suspects Mari has undone and redone hers several times in frustration.
“Hey,” Gen whispers, touching Melissa's non-injured shoulder with a feather-light hand. She's trying very hard to smile, although Melissa can see her lip is quivering and her face is streaked with tear tracks. “You're gonna be okay, Melly.”
A nickname her father had once used for her when she was very small, before her brothers caught on and started teasing her for it.
“Yeah,” Melissa chokes out, doing her best to smile too. “Yeah. I got this.”
The group is congregating near Hannah, some taking long drinks of water after the chase, others debating where and how to restrain her. Hannah herself looks wide-eyed and petrified.
“We should help them with that,” Mari says, finally tying off her braid. “Now that you're, um. Okay. Or okay-ish, I guess.” With one last look at Melissa, Mari stands and jogs back to the group. Gen stands too, but looks uncertain.
“Are you coming, Mel?”
She probably should, but she still feels like standing up might be a bad idea.
“It's okay,” Melissa says, “I'm just gonna sit for a minute. You can go. Come get me if shit goes down, though.”
Truth be told, Melissa needs a minute to take a breath. She's just barely feeling strong enough to move without blacking out from the pain.
Gen looks like she might protest, but then she seems to catch sight of something just outside of Melissa’s peripheral vision. Carefully, she picks up the hat from where it’d been lying abandoned in the dirt, balances it gently on Melissa’s head. Then she hovers another moment or two, biting her lip, her brow still creased with worry.
“Go on,” Melissa shoves her with her uninjured hand. “Go. I'll be there in a second.”
For a moment it still looks like Gen might insist on staying, but eventually she seems to give in.
“Okay. See you soon.”
A rustle of fabric and Gen's off in the direction Mari had gone, back to the group to get the full lowdown on Hannah the hostage.
Shauna's not with them.
With the tip of her shoe, Melissa absentmindedly draws nonsense patterns in the dirt. Where the hell is Shauna? Hiding in the hut? Why hasn’t she come over to check on me? After all this, doesn't she even care? Not even a little bit?
The space in front of her doesn’t stay empty for long. There's another rustling, and a pair of shoes, and Melissa's heart starts beating like crazy. She's here. Thank God, she's here, she's—
“Hey.”
Oh. It isn't Shauna.
Once her heart rate's back under control, Melissa chances a glance upward just as Natalie of all people comes into view, crouching two paces in front of her.
Melissa can't help but tense up on instinct. Natalie was a crappy leader, weak and easily swayed, and yet somehow, Melissa is still a little intimidated by her.
Sure, at times she's been far more terrified of Shauna. Everyone knows or suspects that Shauna has the potential to do something terrible, and walks on eggshells around her because of it, but that's exactly what Melissa is drawn to.
Shauna’s power, that potent fear. It has always been a thrill. Has always been captivating.
With Natalie, things are different. The problem with Natalie is that Melissa knows that even after all the bullshit, she's still a good person. Natalie is innately moral and brave in a way that Melissa has never felt one bit deserving of. That kind of power isn’t exciting, it just makes Melissa feel vaguely ashamed of herself. And then the shame just morphs into anger.
“Your arm,” Natalie says, with a glancing gesture at her overlarge sling. “Are you okay?”
Melissa looks back at Natalie, slightly open-mouthed. Does such a stupid question really require an answer? Obviously, she's not fucking okay. She doubts she'll ever be able to forget the sensation of her flesh ripping as Gen and Mari shoved the arrow through.
At the same time, part of her knows that if it had been Shauna asking, Melissa wouldn’t have been irritated. She'd have been relieved. At the thought of this, Melissa kicks the dirt again, hard. See, Shauna? See how easy it was to ask even one stupid little question?
“Why do you even fucking care?” She spits the words without really thinking them through. She's angry at Natalie for no justifiable reason, and it's something Shauna might say.
And well, it’s true, isn’t it? Natalie doesn’t care, and why would she? It's not like Melissa and Natalie have had more than like, a handful of actual real conversations in all the months they've spent out here. Melissa has always had Gen to talk to, and now there's Shauna, and between the two of them that's all she really needs.
Natalie sighs.
“Of course I care. Fuck, we all do.” Which is bullshit if Melissa's ever heard it.
“Listen,” Natalie goes on, her voice lowered. “What happened to you is fucked up. What Lottie did to that guy was fucked up. But I'm gonna get us out, okay? All of us, we're gonna get out of here. For real this time. We're gonna do this. And you're gonna see a real doctor, who will fix that fucked up arm for good, alright? Okay?”
She's speaking fast, her promise like an oath, and her brown eyes are darting back and forth searchingly. It's intense. Being under Natalie's scrutiny like this is almost as scary as sleeping next to Shauna had once been. It's even scarier than the day Shauna held a knife to her throat, because at least then Melissa knew how to react.
“Um…” Strong words from the one who killed the bridge. And yet the same way Tai's voice is naturally authoritative and commanding, Natalie has an uncanny ability to come across as completely honest and trustworthy.
“Melissa!”
Her head snaps up. That's her, unmistakably. Shauna, calling from the doorway of their hut. Fucking finally. She scrambles upright, feeling her resolve to be cold and angry that had been bolstered by Gen and Mari already starting to fade. Halfway to bolting across camp, though, Melissa freezes.
Natalie is still crouched in front of her. They were mid-conversation, after all. Melissa doesn’t want to keep Shauna waiting, but she doesn’t quite dare to be rude to Natalie, either.
Crap. What now?
But Natalie stands, brushes off her clothes. There's an unreadable expression on her face as her eyes flick in Shauna's direction.
“It's fine. Go.”
She's been saved from formulating a response. Not wanting to waste her luck, Melissa darts through camp as quickly as she can while trying not to jostle her stupid injured arm or do anything even more stupid like faint. Keeping her head down, she tells herself it doesn’t matter whether or not Natalie's really right about rescue, as long as Shauna cares if she's okay.
Of course, when she gets there, all Shauna wants to talk about is getting everyone together to interrogate Hannah, and whether or not the others have chased down the man yet. There's not one question about her shoulder. Not one apology for running away. For not checking on her straight away when she got back.
You're so naïve, Melly. So stupid! Such a stupid, trusting little girl.
Damn it, maybe Melissa was wrong. Maybe Melissa is stupid. Maybe she should've listened to her brothers back then.
She's in this shit deep now, and there's no way out but further down.
Shauna shot at her. She shot at her. She really, actually did that.
Blood is rushing to Melissa's feet. All the bravery and defiance from a few minutes ago seem to have deserted her, leaving her nauseous and lightheaded, as if she might faint right here on the spot. Her world is painted in shades of black and white, and is also spinning violently. Is Shauna still there? Melissa can't see.
“C'mon,” a soft voice is saying, “let's go. C'mon.”
Someone else is taking her hand. It's warm. It's not Shauna, then. Shauna’s hands are always cold. Good, that's good, it's not Shauna. Shauna shot at her. Melissa knows it's true, but it's still not making any sense. Her brain hasn’t yet caught up to her body.
The person holding her hand is pulling her along, and with a supreme effort Melissa forces her legs to take a step, then another. She'll have to trust that the hand's owner knows where they’re going, because Melissa's vision is still totally malfunctioning. The world is nothing but a sickening whirlwind of shapes. She shuts her eyes, tight.
Could it be Gen holding her hand? That might be nice. Gen’s her friend. Except no, not anymore. They’ve been fighting, fighting because of Shauna.
Shauna!
“Can't go back,” Melissa says in a sudden panic, voice hoarse and eyes squeezed shut. “Can't. Don't take me back. Not to Shauna.”
She'll kill me.
Melissa needs to accept that as fact now.
Don't make me go back. She'll kill me.
“Of course not,” the voice says, sounding affronted. “C'mon, just a little further.”
“She’s in shock or something. She should sit down.” A second voice, which is also not Shauna's.
“Here.” The first voice again. Someone, or maybe two someones, guide Melissa slowly downward until she's falling into a sitting position.
“Give her a sec.”
Melissa takes one, gladly. She shoves her head down, down to her knees, and tries to breathe.
The ground beneath her is solid and cold. Not the camp's compacted dirt, but something else. Rock, maybe. The voices are whispering to each other, but not loudly enough to block the sound of rushing water nearby.
Oh. We're by the river, I think. And Shauna isn't here. Good.
I cross her again, she'll kill me.
Sitting seems to have helped a little with the light-headedness. Melissa tests that theory by slowly opening one eye, just enough to see that the world's been restored to colour, and has stopped spinning. And Shauna's not here.
Bolstered, Melissa sucks in a breath, opens her eyes proper.
The familiar riverbank slowly comes into focus before her. There's rock underneath her, two of their water buckets stacked on her left, and some of their clothes are strung up to dry just a few paces away to her right. Lottie’s floral dress, one of Gen’s vests. Shauna’s red flannel.
A deep breath, two. Shauna's not here. She shot at you, but she didn’t actually shoot you. You’re alive. You’re fine.
Then Melissa looks down, and notices something else. Heat quickly rushes to her cheeks. You wet yourself, and you didn’t even notice? So pathetic. Such a baby.
The voices. Whose had they been? Where are they now? Melissa turns. Tai and Van break off their whispered conversation to awkwardly stare at her, arms crossed.
“Fuck,” Melissa exhales, the full reality of it hitting her.
“Yup,” Van agrees. “Fuck is right.”
“Um. Sorry. About…” She trails off. They've seen it.
“Don't apologise,” Tai says, voice sharp. Melissa ducks her head. “Just… we'll go. Let you clean up.”
“Take care of yourself,” Van adds. “You looked pretty out of it back there.”
Stay, the childish part of her wants to plead, but they’re already turning away.
Melissa turns back to the water, doesn't watch as Tai and Van slowly retreat back to camp. The rock's surface is cool and rough beneath her fingertips. Grounding.
I fucked up. I got in too deep. She gets a chance, she’ll kill me and feel justified doing it. What happens now?
By nightfall, Melissa's made up her mind. She's poured everything she has into Shauna, and what's it got her? Nothing but enemies and a rip in her shirt. The sex wasn’t even that great, just a meaningless distraction really.
And any promise of safety was just a delusion in the end.
This is it. No take-backs now. No apologies. This is it, life or death.
Sucking in a breath, Melissa yanks open the hut's cloth door. She watches as Gen jumps, grabs for a weapon, until she registers that it's Melissa and her expression changes from fear to confusion.
“Fuck Shauna. Whatever's going on, I want in.”
Gen looks up at her. Blinks. And then, if Melissa's not mistaken, there's the tiniest ghost of a smile spreading across her face. Melissa smiles right back.
She'll kill me.
It's true. Melissa knows Shauna better than any other living person out here. Shauna was bluffing today, but she won’t miss the shot a second time, that'd make her look weak. The way Melissa sees it, Shauna doesn't exactly want to kill, but her fear of being perceived as vulnerable can and will override that.
And maybe Melissa's been a little stupid recently, but she won't make that mistake again anytime soon.
She'll kill me? Sure, maybe. But I’m sure as hell not going to lie back and let her.