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Nat’s eyes pool as she chokes on the heavy lump lodged in her throat. It wasn’t premeditated, she swears. She hadn’t planned on using the gun— she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it in the first place, really. She blinked, and one moment his hands dug into her wrists, and the next her hands gripped his gun. It was a mistake.
Her body shuddered as he had egged her on, daring her to pull the trigger. She wished she’d turned it on herself. But she hadn’t. She kept it trained on him, forcing herself to make eye contact as the click echoed in her ears. The manic smile that crept across his cheeks sank into her skin as he yanked the gun from her rattling fingers.
This is it, she thought, as he sludged outside with the gun dangling at his side. In a wave of her shame — her rage, she released a raspy retort from somewhere deep within her lungs.
“You’re the fucking useless one!” For all he knew, it was aimed at him. Maybe it was. But mostly, it was at herself, a weak attempt to get one last blow in. She expected many things, but none of them were close to what had unfolded.
He tripped— he fucking tripped. The bullet had barely whistled past her ear before she felt the splash of warm liquid. Her dad glanced up at her, at his accidental victim. It was just as she heard a loud thud behind her that she realized. No, he wasn’t looking at her; he was looking past her.
Before Nat had a chance to turn around, her father had forced himself up, unloading the remaining bullet from the gun into his hand. In one swift motion, he had turned on the safety and secured the cylinder in his pocket, sprinting through the doorway.
Nat glanced down at her arm, her eyes glossed over as she took in the red river that rushed down her bicep and dripped from her fingertips. She fought the tight muscles in her neck, her eyes falling over her shoulder to the floor behind her.
Bile crept its way up her throat, begging to be released. Natalie turned outside, emptying the contents of her stomach into the grass. She closed her eyes, but the image was seared in the inside of her eyelids. Her mother, an island in a sea of blood.
A large hand tugged her inside the house, pushing her in the direction of her room. She stumbled over her feet, her cheek colliding into the wall before she caught herself. Natalie allowed herself to slide down the wall, unable to hold herself up any longer. Over the sound of her heart in her ears and the sobs she tried to suffocate, she heard her father on the phone.
“Yeah, we just got home, and there she was—“ His heavy footsteps paced the living room. “I don’t— I don’t know what to do! I took the gun and unloaded it, I sent my kid to her room, please, just— I- I don’t know— send someone, please, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
After the call, after the sirens, the people, the paperwork, Natalie dragged her feet through her bedroom door, narrowly avoiding the floor as she collapsed onto her mattress. She was tired, but her brain didn’t stop.
The official story was that she and her dad came home and her mother had shot herself. Not him, not her, her mother. A suicide. If Nat had been anything but overcome with shock, she would have scoffed. But maybe, in a way, it was a suicide. Sure, she hadn’t pulled the trigger herself, but she had stayed around, hadn’t she? Even though she knew it was a loveless marriage with a thousand problems, she still stayed.
Natalie hated that she found herself thinking like that, but there wasn’t anything to do about it. No amount of placing the blame or imaginary scenarios would bring her back.
It should’ve been me. The words repeated in her head, overwhelming her senses. It should’ve been me.
Her dad didn’t do much to convince her otherwise. In fact, he was rather vocal, slurring and stumbling over his agreement. Night had fallen, and Nat wished he would, too.
“It shoula been you, Natty.” He stumbles, toxic breath heating her face. She flinches. “What, y’think you’re, what, too- too good for me? Huh?”
He jabs his index finger into her chest.
“Huh? You too good, Natty?” He’s yelling now, shoving her backward. Her head stings as the wall cracks behind her. He chuckles. “Oh, Natty… you thought, y-you thought you were gonna put a hole through your daddy’s head, huh?”
“N-no.“Her neck is wet. It’s not just sweat, but something more viscous, too. Something warmer. “That’s not-“
“Now lookit you,” he inches forward, his daughter frozen like a deer in headlights. If only he wasn’t a hunter. He snakes his hand behind her ear, resting his sweaty, rough palm against her neck. He brings it before her face, inspecting the blood that’s smeared across his fingers. “Like mother, like daughter I suppose.”
Everything wobbles. Nat’s head is throbbing. Fear holds her in place as the monster before her closes the gap, pressing his body against hers. The hairs on the back of her neck stand as he leans his head against her cheek, whispering something into her ear. She doesn’t hear him, though. All she can feel is the weight against her chest and the pressure of the swelling under his jeans that digs into her stomach.
He’s moving against her now, pressing her shoulders deeper into the wall. She winces, and he laughs. It’s a cruel laugh, buzzing against her bones. She shivers. He takes it personally.
With a new bump on her cheek and a few cracked ribs, Nat crumples. She can’t fight him anymore. Her father slips his hands around her thighs, lifting her up. He carries her to her room, dropping her onto her bed. She doesn’t get to feel a moment of comfort before he’s on top of her, reaching under the waistband of her pj pants.
She couldn’t fight him. She tried, but her muscles didn’t work. Before she could form a coherent thought, her clothes had formed a pile on the floor, and his wedding ring had branded her with bruises and cuts.
She bled. She cried silent tears, praying to a god she didn’t know she believed in. It didn’t matter, for he didn’t respond.
When Natalie woke, it was still dark out. Her father was passed out on top of her. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. Natalie’s lungs struggled to take air in. She began to push him off of her, nearly hitting her head on the bedside table in the process. He grunted as she freed herself, stumbling to the floor with a thud. Frantically, she yanked a shirt over her head.
“Where d’y’think y’re goin?” He taunts. “Didn’t you have fun, Natty? Huh?”
He’s mocking her now, surely. She searches for a pair of shorts, hastily pulling them on. Behind her, the bed creaks. She tries to run, but he grabs her arm. Pain shoots through her shoulder.
“You’re a fucking slut, Natty.” His fists. All she can feel is his fists, making themselves at home against her flesh. “No one will believe you, baby.”
She lets out a sob as her nose crunches under his wedding ring. Her shoulder is crushed beneath her as she makes contact with the floor. He goes to kick her, but slips on the puddle of blood that escaped her nose. This is her chance.
Natalie bolts, ignoring the pain that radiates through her body. She doesn’t care that she’s barefoot, she doesn’t care that she’s underdressed, she throws the front door open and books it down the street.
High on adrenaline, she sprints down the road, sprints out of the trailer park. With the moon as her only source of light, she pulls herself farther from her house, farther from him. She ignores the gravel that’s become embedded in the soles of her feet, pushing harder and harder. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but it doesn’t really matter.
After what seems like half an hour, the pain starts to catch up with her. Red and brown crusts her chin and the front of her shirt, but her nose is no longer bleeding.
Something whizzes past her. Jumping to a stop, Nat takes in her surroundings. A deer looks back at her, tail flicking thrice, before taking off again. She almost got decked by a fucking deer. Gasping for breath, the world becomes slanted. She’s dizzy, she’s tired, she’s in pain. But she can’t stop. The bleach blonde practically drags herself to the nearest street sign, leaning heavily against it.
After several minutes, her breathing is less forced. Looking up, she recognizes the street. Lactic weighs her legs down, but she stumbles down the street in defiance, nearly collapsing on the doorstep of the white-ass mansion.
With her forehead against the front door, Natalie knocks weakly against the window with one hand, and spamming the doorbell with the other.
It feels like there’s oobleck in her lungs. Each breath is thicker than the last.
The door unlocks, and Natalie stumbles forward as it’s opened. Black spots speckle her vision as she expects to make contact with the floor. Instead, she’s caught by lean arms.
“Nat, what the fuck—“
“Lott,” Natalie sobs. Her knees buckle. She doesn’t hit the floor.
“What the fuck, Nat.” Lottie breathes. She hugs the smaller girl as if letting go would cause her to fade into nothing.
“Just hold me.” Nat begs. She can feel Lottie’s tears falling onto her crown. With a scratchy voice, barely audible, she whimpers, “I’m sorry.”
The last few rays of sunshine cast a spotlight through the nearly bare branches as the sun dipped behind the mountains. Leaves crunched beneath Natalie’s feet, harmonizing with the chorus of chirping crickets. Whether they were cheering her on or mocking her, she couldn’t tell. She was just grateful that they temporarily quieted the commotion in her head.
The gun felt heavy in her hand as she walked. The weather had gotten colder and the days shorter. Natalie tried to keep them from starving, but game had been scarce as of late, forcing the team to ration more. They were alive, but they were all feeling it. Jackie had gotten quieter, Shauna more hostile. Coach had become more distant, while Tai and Van became closer, rarely leaving the other’s side. Most evidently, though, Lottie had gotten weirder.
They hadn’t caught anything in days, and admittedly, Nat was scared. Winter would soon be here, and though she tried, she knew she couldn’t keep doing this anymore. It was selfish, she knew that, but the decision had been calling her name since well before the crash. Hell, it had been there, in the back of her mind, gripping to her soul since before she’d first bleached her hair. The only difference now was that she’d finally had the privacy to do it.
By the time she had situated herself in a place she’d deemed secluded enough from the cabin, the sun had long been replaced by the moon. She had considered leaving a note, but Shauna had refused to rip a piece of paper from her journal. Natalie didn’t put up a fight, doubting context would've changed her mind. Maybe tomorrow she’d feel guilty, but tonight, Shauna would be content with her decision, and it would be sadistic of Nat to strip her of any sense of control out here. Then again, she was taking the selfish route and using her last ounce of control to leave them without a hunter. God, Natalie needed freedom from her stupid overthinking brain.
Tears began to dampen the bleach blonde’s cheeks, her eyes stinging from the chilled gusts that howled around her. Natalie cleared some dried leaves from a rock before sitting. Her thighs radiated with soreness, her muscles gasping for breath. Soon, she thought, they’ll breathe forever. Resting her chin on the cold medal of the barrel, Natalie briefly wondered how soon they’d find her. Would they blame her for their starvation, or would they be relieved that they were finally free of her diseased presence?
Her breath shudders as the safety is released. Her thumb brushes against the trigger. She wished things were different, that the stupid plane hadn’t crashed, that Lottie hadn’t spiraled into her voodoo bullshit.
A weak scoff escapes her lips. Even on death’s doormat, she thinks of her. Lottie. Sadness tugs at her heart. Natalie’s still not sure she believes in heaven and hell—her belief in God had barely persisted after her mother’s death, and she didn’t know if she even believed in Him anymore after the crash. Maybe her faith in Him had died with Laura Lee, in an explosion of flames as the last glimmer of hope drowned in the lake, sinking to the bottom with the scraps of debris. Alas, maybe in death she’ll be able to accept her desire as love instead of a traitorous sin that taints her Catholicism.
Natalie closes her eyes, listening to the forest around her. Before she can exhale, the woods scream with life, leaves loudly shuffling under nearing feet.
“Natalie!” Her shoulders sag. Stupid Lottie.
Overlapping voices add their two cents.
“What the fuck, Nat!”
“Holy shit.”
Reluctantly, Natalie opens her eyes. Five figures slowly come into focus, dimly illuminated by a handcrafted torch. One of them kneels beside her, turning on the safety before removing the gun from Natalie’s weak grasp.
“I’m just gonna borrow this.” Van mutters.
“Jesus Christ,” one of the girls—Mari, she thinks—beathes, “way to fucking go, gaywad.” Yep, definitely Mari.
The silhouettes before her erupt with backlash, overwhelming Nat’s ears. She just wants the noise to go away.
“Natalie, why would you try such a thing?” Lottie questions, resting a hand on her shoulder. Natalie flinches at the touch.
“She’s fucking selfish, that’s why!” Mari stabs.
“Mar—” Tai interjects.
“Oh, tell me I’m wrong!” Mari sarcastically quips. “It’s been days, and she hasn’t caught anything!”
“True.” Misty agrees. Tai and Van stare daggers at her.
“The Wilderness will-” God, Lottie, can it with the Wilderness shit already.
“I mean, she’s practically useless! And now she’s following in her mom’s footsteps!” The other four gasps, Mari’s hand flying to her mouth as she realizes how out of pocket her comment was.
Natalie feels the five pairs of eyes fall to her, waiting for her retort. Her eyes, wet and puffy, sharply pierce through Mari’s apologetic gaze.
“Fuck you, Mari.” She rasps, standing. “At least I was fucking trying. All you’ve been doing since we crashed is kiss ass and start shit.”
She steps closer, anger radiating from her heated cheeks.
“My mom was always going to die to violence. My dad will die to violence. I know I have the same fate as them, the only thing I don’t know is whether or not it’s going to be offensive or defensive, by my hand or saving someone else’s.” Natalie is practically nose to nose with her, fueled by rage and grief. “Laura Lee was always going to die innocent in a selfless act-”
“Nat-” Lottie extends a hand, but Nat slaps it away.
“You,” Natalie turns, anger shrinking Lottie into the shadows. “You know, I always assumed you’d die when medicine failed, but now I know you’ll die to your psychotic fucking woo-woo Wicca bullshit, alone and-”
“Natalie!” Taissa demands. “Enough! We’re going back to the fucking cabin, and you’re not going to leave our fucking sight!”
The girls go quiet, turning back to the cabin. The walk is silent, save for the sounds of the woods. Scars that litter Natalie’s wrists and thighs burn, Mari’s words echoing against the healed skin.
With a clenched jaw, Natalie stared at her feet as she was silently escorted back to the cabin. For about the thousandth time since the plane had fallen from the sky, she wondered why she hadn’t been one of the several people to have died in the crash. What made her deserving of life? What made her so special? Nothing, that’s what.
The events of the crash were seared onto the back of her eyelids, right next to the memories of her mother’s final moments. She’s still not sure whether or not she regrets taking that pill, the one she’d placed on her tongue without a second thought at the party the night before they left. She learned the hard way that acid stays in your system long after you’d expect the trip to be over. It made the crash confusing as fuck, but maybe it helped her get through it, even if she did hallucinate her dad. Even if the blood hadn’t been blood, but melting rainbows. Maybe it did make it worse.
They stop moving, and Nat finally looks up at the light that spills from the windows of the wooden structure. Her heart thumps loudly against her lungs. Had she always struggled to take air in?
“You,” Tai points, “are going to go inside, and you’re going to tell Coach all about your little hike.”
Nat forces herself to make eye contact, not taking her eyes off of her when Mari pushes past. Silently, she pleads to Taissa, begging her to have mercy on her, but she knows the girl, and she knows she’s far too stubborn. Taissa guides Natalie into the cabin. She doesn’t have a moment to react before she’s shoved into Ben’s room.
“Nat has something to share with you.” Tai declares.
He looks up at her. Waiting. She wills herself to open her mouth, but her ears are ringing. Pressure builds in her cheeks. Dizziness presses against the back of her eyes. Can she really do this to him?
Of all the difficult conversations they’d had, Nat decides this is the worst. He’s looking at her the same way he had during their heart-to-heart by the creek.
“Nah, I mean, it’s just…” Natalie’s breath hitched. “You never look at our boobs.”
Silence surrounds them, save for the stream that trickles by their feet. Ben doesn’t speak. Had she said something wrong?
“No, I mean, it’s cool.” She glances at her coach, practically sighing in relief when his shoulders dip as he releases the tension in them. “It’s your life, and it’s none of my business, really, but I just wanna say thanks, I guess. Don’t worry, I never told anyone, again, it’s none of my business, but yeah. I… I appreciated it.”
Ben’s eyes soften as the bleached blonde rambles to him, thankful that she never outed him, but moderately impressed at her ability to notice details and understand people.
“Thanks, y’know, for not telling anyone. I am, but… Nat…” He trailed, waiting for her eyes to meet his. He took in a deep breath, a hint of sadness shaking in his lungs. “Do they… do other coaches look at your…”
Nat turned her head before he could finish his question. She couldn’t let him see the way her eyes betrayed her. Refused to let him see the way the tip of her nose began to glisten with snot.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, snapping her attention back to him. He regretted it instantly. A pang of worry sagged in his chest as he saw the way her watery eyes constricted as she pulled away from him, how she reacted as if the mere brush of his fingertips had set her skin ablaze. He collected himself, swallowing the questions that danced on the tip of his tongue.
“Natalie…”
The girl shook slightly, wrapping her arms tightly around herself, gripping her shoulders as if her heart would break through her sternum if she let her guard down for a second.
“Yeah,” she whimpered. She didn’t trust herself to look up at him, instead opting to stare at the sunlight that sparkled the rippling water. “They do.”
A deep sigh escaped his lips before he shifted to face her. He didn’t expect her to look at him, didn’t know if she would even hear him, but he knew he couldn’t leave her drowning in whatever sea of thoughts crashed through her brain.
“That’s… that’s not okay, Nat. They shouldn’t—“
“It’s fine, Coach. Really, I’m used to it.” She rasped, hating how dry her throat was despite her face being so wet. “It happens.”
“Yeah, but it shouldn’t!” He tried to be calm. Really, he did, but he couldn’t hold back the frustration that clawed his eyebrows and scratched his voice. “Nat—“
“Coach!” She erupted, her saliva coated by a million emotions. Her shoulders rapidly rose and fell as she tried to get air into her lungs.
“I need you to listen to me.” Ben demanded. “You’re a child, Nat, they—“
“Please, Coach.” The wide-eyed girl pleaded. “I’m fine. I’ve had coaches do more, okay? It’s fine that they look, I’ve been through worse. They’ve done worse, I—“
He didn’t think as he wrapped his arms tightly around her shaking frame. He held her while she cried into his shoulder, rubbing loose circles on her back as syllables stumbled through her sobs. They sat like that for a while, neither of them caring that the air cooled a little or that the shadows had grown.
“Do you… do you remember when I joined soccer?” Natalie practically whispered, her body exhausted. He slowly nodded as she pulled away. “I… I quit cross country. Sophomore year.”
His eyes widened with realization, but he didn’t dare say anything. Not when she was being so vulnerable, so raw with him.
“C-Coach Lock, he…” Natalie paused, gathering the strength she’d never had. “We had a workout, over at the cornfields. I forgot my water bottle, so he let me take longer breaks in between reps. It was like, 90 degrees or something crazy like that. In October. I felt like I was gonna pass out.”
She paused, choosing her next words carefully. Ben hung on to every second.
“He let everyone else go back to the school for their cooldown. I was going to follow them after my last 1k, but I, uh…” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “I… didn’t get to. He… I didn’t want to, I—”
Her eyes blurred as the girls took off, dust clouding the trail behind them. Natalie was slumped under a tree, though it didn’t provide much shade. Her muscles screamed, whining for water as her skin flushed red under the blazing sun. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. She went to brush the back of her hand against her forehead, expecting it to be slick with sweat, but it came back dry. She tried to stand, but her head pounded as black dots sprinkled her vision.
With a heavy shuffle, he gripped her arms. She was too weak to fight, she could barely stand for Christ’s sake. His fingers dug deep, threatening to bruise her bones. She let her hand be guided to his crotch. She didn’t struggle as he pushed into the backseat of his car. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was the helplessness and shame that sank in her stomach.
Ben waited patiently for her to calm down, his attempts to soothe the kid before him had little effect, despite his effort. He didn’t dare interrupt her as she sputtered through the details, didn’t dare jeopardize her choice to be vulnerable with him.
“I’m sorry.” The words tugged his ears. What did she have to be sorry for?
“Nat, can you look at me?” His tone was soft, lighter than he thought he could be. “It’s not your fault. Okay? It’s not. You didn’t let him do anything, he just did it. It’s his fault and his only, you understand? You did nothing wrong. You are the strongest person I know, and I’m so proud of you for telling me.”
Natalie broke again at his sincerity, allowing herself to be held together by his embrace. She didn’t fight him, not this time. They stayed there, huddled together by the stream, until the sun fell behind the trees.
“Nat?” Ben asks, worried.
Her knees crumple as her eyes roll into her head. Tai’s arms slide beneath hers, softening her fall.
“Shit,” Tai breathes. “Lottie!”
“Misty!” Ben calls.