"You know, you didn't have to join us," Lottie whispered. Still, you willingly climbed up the creaky ladder to accompany literal human remains resting on the chair with the rest of the team. Sighing, Lottie surrendered to the ritual, marking your forehead with an imperfect 'x' using a concoction of dirt and deer blood.

You didn't have to be member of this low budget horror shitshow.

Yet, observing the faint creases forming on your troubled brows, tainted by the dripping dark liquid like somber snowflakes, she knew you heard her unspoken fears.

Her medication's been sucked dry since the plane's collision on unknown soil of this cursed land.

You were the sole member she only ever entrusted with her diagnosis, yet your bond hid from prying eyes, for society sees it as a pair of mismatched socks.

"Are we all going to die out here?" Javi shattered the jovial giggles that once dominated the room, jolting Lottie back to attention.

Her eyes fixated on the dangling dagger, a makeshift for a pendulum, as it circled the cabin floors like a monotonous rollercoaster, only to offer neither a 'no' or a 'yes.'

An infinity.

Surprise strike her as she swiveled towards the window. One blink, it was closed; in the next, the frigid air assaulted her in the face, knocking the window's mouth agape in its wake. Candlelight, once a beacon of warm glows, now waned and left behind.

It's here.

And it's found home in Lottie.

Her blood-curdling scream pierced the dimness, scurrying onlookers away from the horrors. Yet, you stayed—making members hold onto questions for your sudden compassion.

"Lottie!" Your voice reverberated, your grasp firm as you shook her shoulders, desperately attempting to break her from the trance that held her captive.

But a sinister whisper crept into her ear, drowning out your fervent pleas.

Lottie can only scream the chorus of tortured souls. Her body convulsed with violent thrashes in your arms, murmuring foreign incantations in your ear.

She's lost her mind—trapped in the depths of despair.