"There was no FUCKING reason that she needed to die!"
Nea and Dwight stood aside each other as Meg screamed in their faces, her own face hot red and drenched in tears. Neither spoke. A mutual feeling of shame was spreading between them all.
"I just needed help," Meg cried, bending over for a second to wail toward the dirt before snapping back up. "I can't fucking believe we lost her. I can't believe we lost them both!"
She turned around and aimlessly walked and turned in feverish circles near the fire. "Why? Why? Why? Oh my God…"
Over time, Meg slinked toward the ground and became quieter and quieter, until she was sniffling into her arms while she was all wrapped up in the fetal position, tangled in anguish.
Meanwhile, Dwight and Nea shared an uncomfortable silence. Nea didn't really know Claudette, so she wasn't quite affected in the same ways as the others, though she was experiencing a lot of other feelings. Numb was the main one. She figured that her body was doing its best to cope with what it had just witnessed. The whole trial was one terror after another, then it was topped off with gruesome murder. So what more could her mind conjure up other than numbness. It was the only thing that could keep the fear and the trauma at bay.
Dwight, on the other hand, couldn't stop the cycle of fresh images of Claudette dying from flashing behind his eyes. And then Meg's endless cries weren't any help in the hopes to forget about it all. He knew it ultimately wasn't possible to act like it didn't happen, but he had no other idea of how to push past it. Deep down, Dwight knew that he needed to get used to the people around him dying.
It always felt like they could've done more, but by the time Dwight arrived at the scene, he knew that there was no saving Claudette. If they had seriously tried, there would've been more than one person succumbing to the trial. He was certain of that. But no matter how much he rationalized with himself, it didn't mend any of the pain. There really wasn't any winning. That was just part of the game.
He didn't know what else to do. Standing there wasn't helping anyone. So he crept over to Meg and sat in the dirt beside her. Carefully, he lifted her head and laid it in his lap. She didn't resist, rather she nestled tightly into his side, face smushed into his abdomen while her legs curled around his back. Dwight let his hand rest on her shoulder blade, the other gently combing through her ginger hair, which had escaped its braided style at some point during the previous trial.
Nea watched Dwight and Meg get cozy, which cracked open a rift within her. She missed Stella. She missed her more than she ever thought possible. And so rather than watch them and wish she could have that sort of affection, Nea moved so that the fire was directly between them and they were out of view. Then she sat on a log with the mission to zone out when-
A waterfall of yellow and chunky vomit spilled all over the log beside her. Nea zipped away and watched as a figure on the edge of the shadows stumbled toward the light.
"Yo, what the fuck man?" She said loudly, arms extended outward at her sides. Her eyes roamed the person, concluding it was indeed a man. And as he straightened, she realized he was old. This guy's luck must've been in the gutter.
A wheezy and raspy laugh escaped the stranger as he spared the pile of vomit an amused glance, then looked at Nea through his shades.
"Rough night," He chuckled, Spanish accent adding a sweet twist to his hardy voice. Nea didn't know how to respond, so she just crossed her arms and watched him. He'd realize sooner or later that something was horribly wrong with his situation. She wasn't in the mood to sit and hold his hand and let him know he was indeed fucked.
The stranger cleared his throat, then spat out whatever bile was left in his mouth. As the sudden sickness of his seemed to dissipate, his sleazy grin grew.
"Why so serious, Princesa?" He crooned in the direction of Nea, who all but snarled right back.
"I'm not your pet. Don't call me names you old fuck," She growled. He laughed and held his hands in the air, surrendering to her command.
"Alright, alright," He said with the same shit-eating grin. "So what is this, eh? They get you?"
Nea shook her head slightly, not understanding. He gestured to her bloodied clothes. "Los Lobos," then he rolled his eyes, "The Wolves."
"No, there's no wolves out here."
He clicked his tongue and held a finger in the air. "Ah, ah- They're worse. Especially when you owe them money. You look like you've paid some sort of debt. Where are they? What are they keeping us cozy at the fire for?"
"Shut the fuck up," Nea snapped, tired of hearing his voice. "I know nothin' about whatever Scarface shit you're talking about."
He hummed nonchalantly, jutted his chin out. "It's a good film."
Nea didn't entertain him a second longer. She couldn't bear it. So she marched around the fire and went right up to Dwight, who still was tangled up with Meg on the floor, a big pile of sappiness that nearly made her sick to the stomach, mainly out of yearning for Stella.
"Cuddle time is done. I need you to deal with the new guy."
Dwight squinted up at her in confusion, then his face shifted as Nea felt a presence behind her. She instinctively stepped away and reared around quickly, watching the stranger approach. He slinked over to them as if nothing was amiss, then retrieved a flask from within his frayed, tan coat. His wrinkled fingers unscrewed the cap with ease.
"The best cure for a hangover is to keep drinking, they say," He remarked then chuckled loudly, which faded into a short wheeze until he plugged his mouth with the flask, tipping it back. Dwight and Nea both watched as an amber bead of whiskey slipped out of the corner of his mouth and disappeared into his gray goatee. His throat bulged as he gulped down the liquor.
"Ahh." Satisfied, he capped the flask and shoved it back in his coat. Dwight sighed. Meg sat up as he did so, tearily assessing the newcomer. They both stood up together, at which point Dwight faced the other man fully.
"What's your name?"
"Ace," He answered as if he were passing along invaluable information. "Ace Visconti." Then Ace pushed his sunglasses to the tip of his nose. Finally, he grew serious as he realized just how much blood and carnage was all over the three survivors. "What's going on?"
Meg didn't have any interest in being a part of the conversation. She walked around the fire and dipped her toes into the shadows on the edge of their orange firelight, calmly facing the foreboding darkness. Unresolved was her earlier experience. The one where she was certain that someone had contacted her from beyond- Somewhere that she felt was home. Meg couldn't be sure if the fog had been the key factor. Being in between realities may have unlocked a door, but she couldn't give credence to that until she gave it another shot.
Stained in her mind were those images. They were vivid, sharp yet wispy and hazy. Hard to explain, but she was able to dig deep into her subconscious and use her own imagination to give them life. And those eyes. Those bright, petrified, sapphire eyes.
She took a step into the darkness. Without thinking, her lids fell shut, and she began to call out to whoever it was. At first she felt immensely silly, but Meg determined there should be no stone left uncovered. They needed to do everything possible to escape. Believing she could psychically summon an outsider into her mind may have been delusional, but she didn't care.
Fully enveloped in the shadows, she continued to call. She envisioned those eyes, the bedroom, the fear that they had harbored deep within. Her heartbeat slowed. She honed in on it. Her mind felt free yet focused and seemed to transcend her the longer she strayed in the pitch black.
Just like that, the familiar voice floated through her head in a way indescribable to Meg.
'Hello, again…' It whispered seamlessly from within.
Meg's brows pulled together. 'I need help, please help me…'
'Who are you? Why do I keep seeing you?'
A tear slid down Meg's face, all but unbeknownst to her as she was so enveloped by the experience. 'I'm Meg,' She answered, that name sounding hollow, like it no longer belonged to her. She didn't feel like Megan Thomas anymore. She was defiled, hardly human, it seemed.
A gasp. It was small but dripped with terror. 'I'm sorry,' They responded, horrified. 'I'm so sorry.'
'Help me get out. Show me how I can go home. Please, please!' Meg pleaded, a burning blossoming within her chest, the maddening desire to just go home. To escape the suffering and decay.
'I don't… I don't know… Wait-' Their voice echoed and faded when a storm of images shot into Meg's head.
A laboratory. Wrecked beyond belief. Shattered glass littered the floor. There were organic substances scattered about the carnage. On the back wall were metallic stairs leading up- A flower. Bright orange, with a glowing golden ring where the petals met the seeds- A man sitting in a red leather armchair, opposite a roaring fireplace that lit up a shadowy room, something glowing and hovering above his hand which rested on the armchair-
Meg's eyes flew open. She hurriedly stepped out of the dark woods and returned to the campfire, breathing somewhat heavy as she walked right up to Dwight, who was deep in a conversation with Ace.
"-And you know my second ex-wife went through the same thing and I just couldn't bear it. She wouldn't take her meds, too holistic and free spirited that she just assumed she was above everyone else. You need help my friend, you can't go down her path," Ace rambled before plopping a fatherly hand onto Dwight's shoulder, who flinched and just looked over at Meg.
She didn't know what to say at first, pretty confused by whatever she walked in on, but then settled for a casual, "Can we talk?"
He nodded and walked with her to the other side of the fire. Once they were alone, Meg sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"What was that about?" She asked him.
Dwight crossed his arms and leaned in. "He's trying to smoothly call us insane and thinks we are in some kind of cult and that we are on drugs."
Meg shrugged. "If only he were right."
"Mhm," Dwight hummed quickly before getting serious again. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Don't call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure someone is talking to me in my head."
They both stared at each other. Dwight's expression instantly betrayed his doubt, but he did his best to understand. "What do you mean?"
"Like, I am able to talk to someone outside of here. At least I think they're outside. I know it sounds super stupid but I'm serious. I asked for help just now and they showed me things. I saw this- this lab, or something. And a flower and a man and it all seems too real to just be me going insane."
"I mean, okay," Dwight's nervous fingers went to his chin, "That's great but what are we supposed to do with what you saw?"
Meg deflated. "I don't know. I'll just keep an eye out for any of it, I guess. I just wanted to tell you because, well, y'know… We're in this together. I trust you."
A slight smile ghosted over his lips. "Yeah, I know."
A moment of silence passed through their conversation before Meg sighed again. "Are you doing okay?"
His mouth drew thin. "No. Are you?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I'm sorry… about Claudette," He admitted sorrowfully. Her eyes landed on the ground.
"It's fine, we both lost her. I feel like we didn't need to. But that's just the game- This shitty, fucking game."
"I know. I-" He looked at her and paused, paused long enough for Meg to curiously look up. He wanted to say what he wanted to say, but he couldn't. He couldn't get it out. "I know that we have to get used to this, but I don't think it'll ever get better."
Meg didn't say anything, just nodded in agreement. Dwight then awkwardly slapped his hands together.
"Well, I guess let me know if you talk to any more people in your head."
She brought her index finger to her lips, shushing him, "Keep it between you and me, please. I don't want anyone to get weird over it."
He pushed his blood spotted glasses up his nose. "Sure, yeah, whatever you want."
"Hey!" A shout from afar. They both looked over to see Nea standing there, a desperate look on her rugged face. "I didn't sign up for this. He's over here telling me about his glory days at the casino."
"Oh good God," Dwight muttered under his breath.
Ace strolled into view, a couple feet behind Nea, flask in hand. "Aghh, c'mon Princesa! Have some of this, you need to loosen up!"
Nea whipped around and was about to yell at him when suddenly a flurry of playing cards fell out of his sleeve, adding more fuel to her fire. "Glory days at the casino?! I'm guessing you got kicked out you fucking fraud."
Ace laughed loudly as he took a swig then bent over to grab his cards from the dirt. But the shifting black fog rolled right over them, forcing confusion to slip onto his tan face. Ace went to look up at the others only to find the fog was climbing higher and higher until everything went black…