CHAPTER SYNOPSIS — In 1996, they looked to you for answers that you pretended to know. In 2021, they looked to you for answers you didn't have.
2021
Some nights, you used to stare at your dollhouse.
It was very big, with a garden, beds more comfortable than your own and even an attic (where no doll was allowed to go, but it mattered that it was there).
There was a doll with brown hair in the bed, she was always there, always warm and inside the place (you were not allowed to move her, not even if you truly wanted to).
Some nights, you would wake up and watch the dolls move on their own. A little Shauna walking around the kitchen, a tiny Van hopping the stairs.
But little Jackie never moved, she always stayed where you let her: on the bed, on the blanket. You used to cry about it, now you enjoyed the sight: she was safe, she was warm and, most importantly of it all, she was out of your grip.
Staring at your ceiling, you wonder if this was on God's plan.
You remember the cold lonely nights, the sins and blessings. How Lottie would hug you closely or how Jackie would dry your tears with shaking hands. How everyone was so happy dancing, how Misty called you nice and hugged you so dearly.
Or how, on the first nights, you didn't even eat, only to leave more for Lottie, in case she felt hungry.
God treats everyone as sons. Wasn't he the one to make the cross?
When you woke up from your memory, your fingers were stained with blood. Your belly was bloody too, with a few drops getting onto the bed below you. In your skin it was marked, again, the symbol of the trees.
1996
You walked over in Jackie's direction, seeing her alone in the cabin. You smile at her, seeing her trying to do the same, but not succeeding very well. You keep quiet, just doing your chores of cleaning berries and leaves by her side, hoping your presence would be enough.
— This is all so fucking weird — she said, a sour taste on her mouth as she looked at you doing your tasks — I wish I could just live like you all do, but it's all disgusting and too hot.
You giggle lowly, and she stares at you a bit mad, but then you both laugh.
— I just pretend, actually — you confess — I pretend I'm in a vintage dollhouse and I need to leave like a barbie doll... except like the house is in the middle of nowhere, with only two ken's and there's not even plastic food...
At that, Jackie laughs loudly, shaking her head at your words.
— You truly know how to live in a fantasy world, tiq.
She called you the nickname she had given you when you entered the team, tiq because of the tic tac of a clock, since you would make the sound every time you were nervous —that and your crippling anxiety over routine and times, you always wanted everyone in the field at least fifteen minutes before the game started.
— We need this, you know... there's no way of this working if we don't stay positive — you say, pressing your lips together as you put the good berries on a different cup, the bad ones on another so you could make jam or something like that — I put on ribbons and pretty dresses, and pretend I'm just going to a party on the woods... pretend I'm just... just the same.
Jackie walks over at you, sitting by your side and hugging you. She kisses your forehead, taking a deep breath.
— You know... you could put some ribbons on my hair...
Your eyes lighted up and you quickly put the cups on the bed, running to your bag and getting up a set of white ribbons, giggling as you sat behind Jackie, ready to doll her up.
The first nights were okay, the other ones were bearable, but these? Oh, these were horrifying... Charlotte could not even grasp when or where it all changed, but what seemed to be a fun trip to the woods, where they forgot all of their resources, turned into a fulltime nightmare, where not even sleeping she was free... Perhaps, she just had finally stopped being able to fool herself.
What made it possible for her to not lose herself to madness was the lake. A place where she was reborn —and washed away from her sins.
No, not all her sins, she was still alive after all.
Where to go when you are lost on yourself?
That's right, you stay stuck —and thats what she felt, floating on the cold water of the river, wishing for things to change. Just wishing and wishing with nothing happening.
Charlotte always tried her best to help people out, to make the tragedies that she felt turn into something useful, but to no avail, no one ever listened to what she had to warn.
"Why do you insist on saving the sacrificial lamb, Charlotte?"
Well, don't all living things deserve a chance to live?
Half of Lottie wanted to take the lamb upon her arms and watch it grow into a pretty sheep. The other half was ready to lick its bones.
Lottie loved the gray skies way more than people seemed to love those orange-pink sunsets. She pictured the Gods watching over humans with a filter lens —because yes, she thought that there was more than only one God, no, she prayed for it; Maybe in a trial, she would have more chances of forgiveness.
— What are your thoughts on loneliness, Laura?
She looked over at Laura Lee, expectantly, always imagining the girl had all of the answers.
— I don't know, it's hard to talk about loneliness when I don't feel it.
— You never feel alone? — Charlotte asks, frowning. It felt impossible to her.
— I'm never really alone, I walk along with God and anywhere I go, I follow.
The answer left Charlotte quiet for a few moments, trying to look at the skies with hooded eyes.
— I'm afraid I've been sent to this earth to only feel hurt.
— That's not true, Lottie.
— How can you know?
— no one uses the sheep as the purification offer. It is the reparation one. It only comes after the sin is already made.
— Perhaps the sheep is the sin itself, that's why it burns.
— If you are used to the fire, why would you scream while being burned?
— You scream of fear, not out of pain.
— Are you a shepherd or a farmer, Lottie?
— What? — she stared at her friend, confused.
— You can stay and be anxious about your lands or you can go and only worry about the sheeps.
— I feel like there's only one correct answer to that question — and she also felt like the one she was going to give, wasn't it.
— Well, we all deserve the opportunity to do something... and also to choose to do nothing at all — Laura replied, a faint, but genuine, smile on her lips.— Life is just what happens after you do one of the two.
Some nights, you went to the lake.
You liked the idea of having so much water around you. You float around, taking deep breaths, you are lost in thoughts, your mind going to your half written poem —one you only had the end of.
"And her teeth bite into my flesh.
And he complains that I can't talk about loving without talking about devouring.
I have myself on my tongue, I bite until I feel red: I leave bite marks on everything I desire.
My mind tries to convince me:
it's okay to get out, there's no point in eating if you're already full;
And a part of my mind speaks out loud:
emptiness is not filled with food;
I have love on my table, and all I can see is the guests eating.
I smile with the satisfaction of being a great hostess —at the same time as I hope I've seasoned it with poison."
Your attention was lost when you saw a shining thing on the depth of the lake. Shine enough to be seen only with the moon light. Your fingertips moved to get close to it, but the more you swam, the more far it seemed to be.
You reached it, and when you felt the pang on your finger it was too late. You looked at the bloody point of it, staring at the little Victorian looking pin on your palm. A little lamb with some shining pearls on it.
Some nights, Charlotte sleepwalked. She said weird stuff and looked at you in a different way. She was here today, the sudden presence scaring you, but you instantly relaxed when you saw Lottie. You could never be afraid of her.
Charlotte looked at you, tilting her head as you opened your mouth to ask. She was quicker.
— and what is nature for you?
You got scared by her voice, a hoarse voice, deep and steady, like a knife cutting meat. Her eyes were scanning you.
— I love the wind.
— No. — she said, her words so convicted that even you doubted your own — what's in you?
What could she possibly mean by it? natural behavior? You didn't know if you actually believed that, on things coming within us when we are born. You wished your nature was to be light and fond and kind, but deep down, really deep, within the catacombs of your stomach, you knew your nature was to have a tight grip around your heart —always wishing for that deep breath of release.
— hunger.
2021
When you opened the door of your house, the last thing you expected to see was a trio of women with angry faces shooting you inside your house.
— I'm almost sure this is a property invasion.
— The last thing you'll need to worry about is a property invasion once I put my hands on your fucking neck! — Natalie said, but she didn't move, only walked close behind you as you went to your colorful living room, in a huge contrast to the clothes of the other women.
You sit on the couch, taking your cup of tea and sipping it, trying to gain some time. You looked at them, waiting for them to speak.
— I might know why you all came here, but I must say, it's nice to see you all again! — you smiled genuinely, although truly nervous behind your faucet.
— oh, cut the shit off, y/n! What is up with that? — Taissa asked, throwing the newspaper with a big picture of you on it.
"Former Yellowjackets member might reveal the truth at an art show?"
You stared at the piece of paper. It was a nice pic of you, not your favorite, but a nice one.
— It's a newspaper... I don't really read it, with internet and all, I kind of-
— What the fuck are you thinking?! "reveal the truth"? Have you lost your mind?
You frowned, sighing.
— I never said I was gonna reveal anything! They just assumed that!
— And you didn't deny it!
You shake your head, getting up from the couch and going to the bookshelf on the corner of the room. Your necklace holds the key to one of the secret places, and you open it, taking the postcard out of it.
— I'm not the one threatening to reveal the truth!
You accuse them, not sure which one you look at.
Shauna frowns, sharing looks with Taissa and Natalie. You used to love them. You now wish to have them out of your skin, of your mannerisms and past. You wish to bleed all your blood so you could take away your shared sins.
— You received one too.
— a couple of days ago, yes, — you answer, putting it on the table — it was at my backstage with flowers with it.
Natalie took it, analyzing the image.
— Why is yours different?
She stares at you, wishing for answers. Answers you did not have.
— What do you mean? Different from what?
— From ours. Yours have a lamb at the corner and these numbers, what does that mean?
You take the card out of her hands, looking at it carefully again. A lamb with the numbers 119:50. What could that mean?
— I... I have no idea...