"You have to go." Lottie hisses, breath steaming in the bitter cold.

You haven't even tried to wrap your head around the full extent of Lottie's off-meds pysche— but you're not going to leave her. You're lost, but at least you're lost together.

"It's the full moon, soon." She mumbles, like that means something. "I can't—control myself, around you." Her nails dig into her palms.

You still don't get it. You and Lottie stopped being close long before the plane crashed.