it had been forty five minutes she’d locked herself within the bathroom. tissue ferociously dotting against wetted cheek as the young female remains hidden from the crowds. refusing to show her weakness, emily vividly remembers the last encounter with the deceased. gun quivering before her face, questions flying back and forth followed by false accusations. she watched him take off out the door; heroic and courageous, something she wouldn’t expect anything less of. it had been a week since her life ended, since the broken shatters into several pieces. emily reminds herself of the last moments, she reminds herself that she could have been the one in the casket and she begins to wonder why she’s even there. lifting her gaze, emily looks within the mirror as puffy bloodshot gaze peers back. a stray tear is quickly dotted up by tissue, silver glinting back as chain jingles to capture her attention.
a bracelet matt gave to her; she loses it once more.
his face haunts her dreams and even within vivid nightmares, he’s always there in the shadows. emily hears the growling, ripping of jagged teeth and she can only lead up assumption to what happened to her boyfriend. woulda ( coulda ) shouldas seem to creep up within the wandering dwellings of a darkened mind. what if she could have saved him, what if she went back into the mine. there were a lot of what ifs surrounding the situation and the young survivor begins to regret her decision of coming to mike’s funeral. maybe, she could sneak out without anyone noticing her being there. it was an hour before ceremony, who else would be there now.
fingertips press to the door and she takes a breath; open.
the halls were quiet, not a soul in sight between her and the door at the end of the passage. heels lightly click against tile, light sniffles stifled within a lingering tissue as she passes each closed door room, quickly. one remains open, she begs herself not to look into in out of fear. going against her common sense, mocha hues peer into the room as she passes to see a young woman. recognizable, long blonde hair and petite within her stance; though she looks damaged. she stops, heart heavy and sinking because emily is aware of exactly who it was. the ashes of a friendship blown away by the guilt of a simple prank that got them all into this. she pleads with herself not to interrupt, she could still make an easy getaway; vanish.
❛ Didn’t think anyone else would be here this early. ❜
it had been nothing but sleepless nights and tired eyes for jessica since the trip they’d taken to mount washington. no matter how much the blonde wanted to forget, her mind had cemented itself in a constant loop of anxiety and pain. an exasperated sigh respired from jessica’s mouth as legs swung her out of bed, the wooden floor of her bedroom cold on her feet. pajamas stripped from her slender physique as she made her way to the bathroom, standing opposite her worst enemy in nothing besides her undergarments. the mirror. no longer was she met with the beauty queen she’d been staring back at her, but instead a ruination of herself. face and body mutilated with cuts from being dragged through the snow, from falling down a mineshaft. she’d been sure she would never make it off that mountain, but yet there she was, standing and staring at herself in front of a mirror.
some referred to it as a miracle. she could never see it that way, if not for matt, she would be dead along with the rest of them. matt’s death, matt’s sacrifice, arguably weighed down on jessica most heavily. he’d died so she could live, distracting the wendigo so she could make her escape. it was a heroic move, noble, and she wished every day that he’d of just let her go instead and he could be the one standing here. knowing matt, he would probably be handling it a hell of a lot better than she herself was. she was haunted by the sounds of the wendigo’s screech, his final scream as she ran (more like stumbled) out of the mines. she remembered it vividly. it’s not the type of thing a person could ever really allow themselves to forget. it was jessica’s responsibility now, to make sure matt’s sacrifice had not been for naught.
delicate fingers twist the bathtub knob, water pouring out and the air filling with steam. jessica dips her toes into the hot water first, allowing herself to soak as she sinks further down. it’d be easy to stay in that bath, soaking away her thoughts and problems. preferable even. she’s dreading what comes next when she steps out -- towel wrapped around her small frame. she doesn’t take long to get ready, doesn’t even bother to braid her blonde locks after she’s done blow drying. an attempt is made to cover the cuts on her face with concealer, but they remain visible to the naked eye. a fresh coat of pink lip gloss and she’s ready to walk out the door. dressed in a little black dress and black heels. the sound of a horn honking outside lets her know it’s time to go.
quickly before jessica exits the house, she swallows down two pills. one for anxiety and one for pain. she’s positive it’s the only way she’ll make it through this funeral at all without becoming a complete mess. the ride to the funeral home was a short one, but a torturous one all the same. trees blurred past as they drove, nearing closer to their destination. dread fills the young woman when the car parks and she steps out without a word. while the service doesn’t start for another hour, jessica wanted time of her own with the deceased. where she could talk openly and freely. she just missed talking to mike was all, and this was the closest she could get. still, she needs a moment. ducking into the first open room she found, jessica sits with her face buried in the palms of her hands. the sound of a voice taking her by surprise as it sneaks up on her from behind. it’s a voice she would recognize anywhere, the voice of a best friend she wasn’t sure she had any longer. ❛ i thought i’d come and -- i don’t know, talk to him. ❜ saying it out loud sounded so dumb. it wasn’t like he’d be listening anyway.
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