After the crash, nothing was the same. The soccer (football) team Y/N once knew were now slowly turning on each other. The cabin was a safe haven from the Canadian winter, but even then, no one was safe from one another.

They tried to create a sense of normality, some played cards. Some just talked. Y/N would just sit down with their Walkman and watch the world fade as the music took them to another realm.

"Im just sick of this being treated like we're the pioneers. This is dire. We could all die, and it feels like no one is paying attention to that." Y/N writes in their journal, the journal had become a sort of companion to Y/N. Someone to vent to. They kept it with them all the time. No one knew what was in it besides them. And for good reason...

February 16, 1997

Dear diary,

I can’t stand them anymore. Every word out of their mouths is like nails on glass, screeching, slicing, making my teeth grind until I think they’ll crack. They laugh like nothing is wrong. Like we aren’t starving, freezing.

The thought came last night when I was staring at the ceiling, my stomach twisting itself into knots. If one of them was gone… just one… the rest of us would have more. More food, more warmth, more silence.

I think about it too much. I picture it—how easy it would be. Some of them are already so weak. A little push, a little shove, a little knife between ribs.

Would they even miss them? Would I? I don't know who I'd get rid of... But it's a thought. A pretty thought."

The others, blissfully unaware. (Timeskip: Night)

The cabin was silent. The girls slept across the cabin, some in the rooms upstairs, some on the living room floor, and some on the sofa. Y/N, however, didn't sleep that night. Jackie was asleep on the floor. By morning, she was gone with no trace of her. A conversation broke out on the whereabouts of her.

"I went out hunting." Y/N came in the door with some meat, fresh, bloody meat. No one knew it was Jackie.