Natalie almost froze when she saw the gun that Coach Ben held in his hands. Memories that she tried to bury suddenly started to flare up. Her father. Her abusive father. The one she killed with a shotgun. The one who hit her, threw her around. Stomped on her mother more than once and screamed that he always had to clean things up.

Coach Ben leaned against a stump, his amputated leg from the plane crash causing him to do so. Misty stood beside him, making sure he was okay. Of course he wasn't, but at least she tried. You and girls, plus Travis and Javi, sat on the cabin porch. The cabin they had found after a little trip to the lake. It was dusty, old, a little dark and secrets buried like the bodies under the foilage, but it would do for now. You stood next to your little brother, Javi, and your other brother, Travis. "Travis is right—" Coach Ben said, to which Travis gave a smug, hidden grin. "What's the point in having this around if we aren't going to use it."

So he made everyone do a little run-through with the gun. Balance a coin on the barrel, inhale, exhale then pull the trigger. Don't let the coin fall. Easier said than done. Most failed with a little giggle, Javi refused to do so. Travis scoffed, he's been a dick ever since his dad — Coach Martinez — died in the plane crash. He took up the gun and shot it perfectly. No bullet escaped. The safety was on. Next was Natalie. She swallowed, the memories still racing in her head.

"Are you a little slut?!"

"Are you a little slut?!"

The coin fell from the barrel and plonked to the ground. Travis let out another scoff as Natalie handed it to Van. He crossed his arms and leaned over to say something, "Maybe next time we should stick to something you're actually useful for. Like folding laundry. Or, y'know, sucking dic—" you whacked him on the shoulder to shut him up.

"I want to go again." Natalie said and took the gun off of Van. She put the coin back on the barrel of the gun and shot once more. Perfect shot.