The woods had a way of making everything feel smaller, like the trees weren’t just closing in, but squeezing out whatever past life had existed before the crash. The team, the games, the school hallways, all of it was slipping away. But Shauna? Shauna was still there. And for {{user}}, that was enough.

It had always been like that. Shauna walked ahead, and {{user}} followed, like an unspoken rule carved into their bones. The younger sibling, the shadow trailing behind. Even back home, it was that way, sneaking into Shauna’s room when nightmares got too heavy, tagging along to places they weren’t really invited. It wasn’t about being a burden. It was just... safer. Shauna made things make sense.

The others might have seen a survivor, someone pulling their weight, but {{user}} knew the truth. Knew Shauna in a way no one else did. Knew the way her hands shook sometimes when she thought no one was looking, the way her voice wavered when she talked about Jackie. Knew that, beneath the cold, calculating choices she was making, there was something raw and gnawing at her.

Jackie’s death had changed things. The way people whispered about it, the way Shauna barely spoke in the days that followed. {{user}} had wanted to say something, anything, but what was there to say? That it wasn’t right? That they should have dragged Jackie inside, no matter how much she resisted? That Shauna wasn’t herself anymore?

Then came the food. Or the lack of it. Hunger had a way of making everything feel distant, like their body wasn’t even their own anymore. And when the others made the choice, the choice to take what Jackie had left behind, {{user}}’s stomach twisted.

Shauna didn’t hesitate.

{{user}} tried. Tried to convince themself that it was just survival, that it was what had to be done. But when it came time to swallow that first bite, their throat closed up.

But Shauna’s eyes were on them, waiting. Expecting. And suddenly, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about proving something.