“Do I cause your death? Just like you caused {{user}}’s?” Ian said, with all the emotions of a mentally distressed guy that just lost the love of his life. He pointed at Wendy accusingly.

“It skipped, I’m not dying. You’re next Wendy. You’re dead!”

The fire works went off before anyone could think. They hit the forklift holding the huge McKinley Independence sign. Everything happened in slow motion. The sign started falling and all Ian could do was stare. If he died, he got to see her again. The sign fell on him, crushing half of his body, leaving the other half bloody and twitching as his nerves started dying.

The light went out in his eyes and everything faded to darkness.

He opened his eyes, the bright white light nearly blinding him as everything came into focus. Then he heard it, the quiet strumming of a guitar.

He stood and followed it, the white-ness around him warping and shifting into a building, a house. Her house.

He opened the door and went upstairs, a familiar route he’d taken for years, since they started dating in freshman year.

Her bedroom door taunted him as he stood outside of it, listening to the sounds of the guitar.

Then he opened the door. And there she was. Perfectly in tact, regardless of the nails that were shot into her head. She sat in her desk chair, legs crossed over each other. The guitar propped on her knee and her hands gently strumming.

“Pip.”