Work Text:
The hallways are labyrinthian, a smooth white-gray covered in the shadows of sunlight through an afternoon window. It’s as if she’s running through a house, never reaching the next room. Breathing hard, she knows her cheeks are getting redder, her legs heavier. But ahead of her, disappearing around the corner, there She is. The sunny, fresh green of the dress and light tinkling giggles contrast the monochrome walls and heaviness that envelops Shauna. So much is running down her cheeks, she can’t tell if it’s sweat or tears. Mostly tears, it registers somewhere in the back of her head, close to her spine. “-Please!,” she calls out, “wait! Jackie --Stop!”
The hallway is long now, but Shauna is no closer. She knows this position all too well. She was always in control, always the hunter, always the one chasing her prey. Why does she feel powerless now? This chase has no thrill, and her prey, that she wants to grip in her hunter’s hands, her butcher’s hands, mocks her with sing-song laughs and teasing glances. She longs for before, for her chase, where her legs never tired, and her breath was smooth.
Jersey, rags, flannel, party dress. Rags, jersey, party dress, flannel. Shauna is desperate. She can feel herself falter through her memories as the chase continues. Untouchable Jackie, immortal Jackie begins to sing her name. Her dress billows all around her, a siren floating just beneath the surface of a calm sea, a monster in a beautiful disguise, and Shauna is bending down to kiss her anyway.
Party dress, flannel, jersey, rags. Shauna has her spear in hand and pierces her prey. It spins around, shocked, eyes wide. It falls backwards, smearing blood down the spear’s shaft as it slides to the floor. Shauna sees those warm fingers, nails still stained with chipped pink polish, and reaches out her hand, and it is Jackie, not prey, and it is Jackie that pulls Shauna down the spear with her into a bloodstained embrace.