We were alone in our cabin. Sitting, talking, not laughing. Maybe it's easier to be brazen online? Easier to not care about what others think?

Discussing how we would go into town tomorrow and ask around. Try and find out the kid's name.

Maddy got really quiet and left.

Came back soon. Not too soon.

Grabbed Patrick by his neck and pressed a gun to the side of his head.

Told all of us not to bother running. There was forest around all of us for miles.

Fred and I got up. She screamed at us to "sit the fuck down." We did that.

Fred's a quiet kid. He started yelling back in a falsetto voice. Asked her what she's trying to do.

She started.

"I need to make sure first. I need to make sure that what we THINK happened to that kid did or did not happen."

We were sitting ducks. Sitting there as she got out the jumper cables.

I ran. I ran hard and fast. Threw an old, ratty chair through the window. Cut myself on the way out.

She shot me. Shot my left leg.

I was limping through the woods and then found myself here. In this fucking backwater town that I nearly died over.

There's nothing here! There's never been anything here! You people don't have fucking identities! "Needlepoint"?! You're just piggybacking off of the Space Needle!

It wasn't worth it to almost die here!

It wasn't worth it to not know

if my friends are dead in some ratty cabin.

Oh god. Patrick. Fred.

I feel

so bad for everyone who's died in this town where nothing happens.

Where death doesn't actually mean anything,

and kids claw at their windows ready to grow up.

Desperately. So, so desperately.

...You know, I grew up in a town like this one.

Spent the whole time wanting nothing more than to grow up as soon as possible.

I used to draw a lot. I always drew myself with spread wings.

If I spent another moment in that town

I convinced myself it would kill me.

My worst fears came true.