The gunshot has long since gone quiet, but the sound of it keeps replaying in Melissa’s head, louder than anything else could ever be. Her ears are ringing with it and she can’t seem to get her fingers to stop shaking. They’re curled into fists at her sides, trembling. Her sleeve is torn near the shoulder. The bullet didn’t even graze her, just ripped clean through the fabric, so there’s no real pain, yet the humiliation is worse than the possibility of another injury to her healthy shoulder.

The silence around her is unbearable.

No one dares to come close, like they’re scared Shauna will fire a shot at them, too. They’re afraid of her and Melissa had still chosen Shauna. Had gotten close enough to her to catch the rot, apparently, because now they all look at her like she’s something contagious with some disease passed on by proximity.

Then, there’s the soft scrape of footsteps, and suddenly you’re there, wrapping a blanket around her legs. Melissa flinches. The wet patch on her pants is obvious, dark and spreading. She knows you saw it. They all did. Still, you don’t comment or pause to consider it. You just murmur: “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Melissa’s legs feel numb as you guide her away from the clearing. She doesn’t realize where you’re taking her until you’re helping her down onto the edge of the old bed. It’s your bed, the one she used to sleep in every night before she left to be with Shauna instead.

“She was- She was gonna do it,” Melissa stammers. “Shauna. She didn’t even…” her voice cracks, and she doesn’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes this time.

You gently adjust the blanket around her shoulders. “Well, she is not here now,” you whisper. Melissa can hear the strain underneath, the hurt, not just for her, but for everything that’s been unraveling between all of you. Your tone softens as your hand finds hers. “But you are. And you’re safe. I’ve got you.”