✧ idk how tf to tag this. this post won't be for everyone, and that's ok !! what a way to say "i'm back, guys!!" ✧
shauna who is hysteric when you die, balling her fists, wailing, screaming. she grips your letterman jacket and shakes you as she begs for you to wake up. but all your body does is rock side to side in the snow. taissa consoles her, wiping the tears away, moving her hair out of her face. but it was over now. one fight, one negligent action, and you were gone.
shauna who couldn't speak for days. she brought you inside the cabin for an hour or so and propped you up against her as she sat with her head against a wooden wall. but it got awkward. the girls whispered. gave her sad looks. she didn't care, though, so long as you were there beside her. but then taissa approached her slow, crouching down on the floor.
"shauna," tai said softly. "i know how much... i know how hard this must be for you—"
"no, you don't." silence.
"if you need time with..." taissa couldn't say your name. maybe a part of her was being eaten alive with guilt as well. "the meat shed would better preserve her. i'll help you, okay?"
shauna nodded and allowed taissa to move your body, though her arm never left your waist.
shauna spent days, nights, weeks, in the shed with you. talking to you. playing mash. showing you little doodles she made in an attempt to make you laugh. maybe in her head, you were laughing. maybe shauna could still see the version of you she remembered: alive, effervescent, the girl she'd fallen in love with all those years ago. nobody really knew but her.
shauna who would cup your face gently, searching your eyes for signs of life. she never really accepted your death, even after the weeks trailed on. she'd smile to herself as she felt your once-smooth skin. she remembers cupping you face while kissing you—for practice, of course. the slumber-party makeouts were just practice, but you'd let out these sweet sounds as she cupped your jaw, her other hand on your waist. and it wasn't practice for her. maybe it wasn't for you either, but now she'll never know.
shauna who gets bold after a while, high off her delusions and psychosis. she starts off kissing your cheeks, then your forehead, then your hands—so soft and dainty in hers—before finally moving to your lips. they're cold, frozen, and she cries the first time she does it, half-expecting them to be warm and soft like they used to be. tears stream down her face as she wails loud enough for a couple of the girls outside to hear. but after a while, the delusions cloud that reality as well, and she feels the warmth of you, maybe even feels you kiss back. it doesn't matter because to her you're alive, you're alive, you're alive.
shauna who tells you how she really feels, now that there's no judgment, no fear.
"i really ... i really love you, y/n." she never dips into the past tense, not once. "and i'm sorry for everything. i wanted you. all i ever wanted was you." her voice breaks as she holds your hands in hers, your eyes shut and frozen that way. "i'm so sorry. i'm so fucking sorry, angel."
that's what she always wanted to call you, angel. and as you watch her from above, that's exactly what you are for her. whether she feels you or not.
shauna who cuddles with you to sleep each night. it's cold, and she has to get multiple blankets, not just for her. she lowers you onto the ground beside her and pulls the warm clothes and plane blankets over both of you. she can't sleep unless she knows you're warm too. each morning, she wakes up with her arm draped around your middle and her nose pressed against your arm. normally, your legs would be entangled, but you can't move them anymore, and how can she blame you?
shauna who, when you're sitting up, hugs you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. your clothes still faintly smell of you, and if she closes her eyes for long enough, she can transport herself to your room back in wiskayok.
shauna who does your makeup, of course. you loved makeup, and though you didn't wear a lot of it, you enjoyed looking pretty. and now it's messed up. your makeup is messed up, just like this situation is, and shauna can't do makeup. not like you could. so as she tries to fix it for you, it's a bit wrong. and every time she kisses you, your lipstick smudges, and it leaves her pacing in the shed, wondering what the fuck she's doing. they're gonna know she's kissing you with your makeup smudged like this. she panics before the panic eventually subsides and she's in her own wonderland again.
shauna who gets hungry, so fucking hungry, and starts small with pieces of you. small bits from your arm, your ear that fell off a while back. it's hard to tell and her mind thankfully hides her from the truth of it all. underneath your clothes, you're probably missing multiple squares of skin, if shauna's really being honest. but it comforts her to know you're a part of her now, in some fucked up way. you're the reason she's still alive.
shauna who curls her head up on your lap like a kicked puppy when she's feeling extra guilty and drowned with grief. she imagines you stroking her hair, whispering sweet nothings to her.
"we'll get through this, shaunie," your voice tells her. "you're gonna get through this." and maybe this time, your voice isn't just a hallucination.
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