Hey guys, Phoenix here!

This is a weird story about Janna and Marco getting stuck in the snow.

Marco sneaks out while she's asleep and the worst happens.

**Warning: This story contains the death of a major character, cannibalism, and possible necrophilia depending on how twisted your own mind is. So please read at your own discretion!**

She had stripped his body of clothes, but had to keep him in the truck, or else he would be buried under all that snow. She was now wearing his layers on top of hers to try and stay warm. She was still cold, but at least her teeth quit chattering. Looking out the window got boring fast, as she only could see heavy snow falling, bathing her senses in an oppressive white light. She couldn't bear to look at Marco, her Marco, at first. His skin devoid of the natural bronze color his Hispanic heritage offered, lips blue, in an awkward position that wouldn't be comfortable for anyone.

She had cried for what felt like hours, though tears were few and far between. No doubt dehydration setting in. Janna finally willed herself to pay attention to her fiance. He almost looked like he was just sleeping. She shuffled towards him, closing the already short distance between them. She studied his face, and drank in every detail, his cute little mole, his slightly pointy nose, and his perfect lips.

For as long as she could remember, Janna dreamed about those lips. Growing up around him, it was always her favorite feature on him. When he talked, she was drawn to watching how his mouth had often fantasized about what Marco tasted like. Was his kiss exotic? Did it taste vaguely like chocolate?

She had finally gotten the answer hours ago. It tasted like the granola bar he had eaten before they had realized the desperate nature of their situation.

Transfixed on his lips, a bitter thought popped into her head. She would never get to kiss her fiance, Marco Diaz, ever again... Or would she? No one was here to look on or judge her actions. She quickly made her mind up and leaned in.

It was the hunger that was starting to drive her crazy. She had found a couple of

water bottles under her seat, and knew it would help her survive a bit longer, but it would be tough to say how long exactly. What was it Marco had said about the rule of two's for survival? Youd die without air for two minutes, without water for two hours, and without food for two days?

She really wished she hadn't been paying so much attention to the way his eyes lit up when he was talking. Had she known what was in store, she'd have paid a bit more attention to what he'd said. How many days had passed with nothing but deep snow and Marco's body to keep her company? Was she destined to join him and die here in the cold? There were moments that the morbid thought seemed almost preferable to the living hell she was in.

Her stomach was badly cramped due to hunger pangs. She started searching through his clothes that she was wearing, desperate to find even the tiniest morsel of food. She was so hungry! The only things she could find in his pockets were: 53 cents, a lime-green skittle she quickly ate, and a swiss army knife.

If she remembered correctly, Marco had gotten the knife as a present from his dad on his twelfth birthday. Ever the safe kid, Marco had kept it in a glass case (to safeguard against accidents!) until chasing Hekapoo for 16 years let him realize how important a knife could potentially be. Ever since he got back, it had been a constant on him.

Looking around the truck, she started to really consider alternatives to food. Just something to quell her stomach for a little while. Janna had reluctantly cut a piece of the foam padding out of one of the headrests. It took a good five minutes to build up the nerve to stick it in her mouth, but she finally did. The taste was awful, and left much to be desired. She had imagined the texture to be similar to cotton candy, but given the age of the material, the foam was hard and turned to sand when she started chewing.

She spit it out. No matter how hard she tried, her body would not let her swallow it. The change was next. She actually somehow managed to get the pennies down, it left a predictably copper taste in her mouth, and just upset her stomach further. She punched the seat in frustration. She should've been the one to die. Marco was the one with the practical survival skills! Marco was-

She froze as she remembered something she had read a long time ago. In the '70s, a group of rugby players were in a plane crash in the mountains. They had to survive in the cold for over two months with no food or shelter. Only a few out of the original 45 people who boarded the plane made it out alive between the crash, avalanches, frostbite etc. When they realized they had no food, they turned to those who had already died and made a choice. Eat them and live, or don't and die alongside them. So they did.

She looked over at her beloved, so lifeless on the other side of the truck. She couldn't do that! A loud growl from her stomach and subsequent cramps happened in succession, as if to punish her for denying herself something potentially edible. Janna looked back down at the knife in her hand, and really thought about it. What would Marco want her to do? Would he be horrified by her even entertaining the idea? Would he encourage her because he wasn't coming back?

Janna wasn't really ever sure if she believed in God, and this situation just made her that much more divided. Part of her wanted to believe that she'd see Marco again, but then her head hurt trying to figure out where they'd stand in Eternity since Jackie would be there too. Then again, if God existed, why would he do this to her? To him?

The cold, rational part of her said that Marco was gone and that nothing would change that. If she wanted to live, then she needed to do something. An odd question popped into her head. If she did try to survive, what part of Marco would offend him the least if she ate it?

After a few more hours of debating, her mind was made up. With weak and shaky limbs, she reached out. Lovingly, she pulled his arm towards her and gently rubbed his cold hand against her face. She closed her eyes and pretended that him touching her affectionately was real.

Janna had no real experience with butchering anything, so cutting the meat off of his hand was kind of a hack job. Thankfully, he kept the blade sharpened or it would have been much worse. She now had a small pile of meat from Marco's hand sitting on the dash in front of her. Well, it was now or never. She said a silent prayer just in case someone was listening, then grabbed a piece and popped it into her mouth.

It was cold, and the texture was stringy and chewy, but as the heat from her mouth started to warm the meat, it wasn't inedible. It kind of vaguely reminded her of like veal or pork, but not quite. As she was chewing, she turned away from her fiancé because it felt wrong and gross.

Finishing what she had accumulated, Janna's stomach pains finally subsided for the moment. She didnt know how much longer she could go on, but she'd give it her all for Marco. She now had a good supply of food, she realized she could fill one of the empty water bottles with snow and it would eventually melt enough to drink. She estimated that she could survive another week or so if she had to.

So umm, yeah... That was an interesting thing to write.