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In Shauna's hut, pages of lineless journal paper littered the floor, crumpled or ripped. Nails bit into the soft skin of your palms as you held back tears. Frustration. Anger. It had all been bottled up and had finally reached its brink. You wanted to explode. Being stuck out in the wilderness can chip away at a person, but certainly you, who had anger issues prior to the crash. However, it was easier to manage back then with distractions: school, soccer, friends. But now?
Shauna peeked her head in, resting her hand on one of the two large branches that made up the entrance. Her mouth shifted as it often would when she didn't have the words she needed. And Shauna, well, she had been quite the menace around camp. Her words terrified the others, but it was her actions that really left them shivering at the thought of her. Since losing Jackie, and the baby, she had plenty of anger of her own. The difference? Shauna didn't bottle it up like you did. She used to. She used to. But it wasn't worth it to her anymore.
Shauna crouched down beside you on the soil, not committing to sitting just yet. Her eyes fell on the papers scattered around, and she swallowed.
"I gather journaling didn't help," she said.
You sniffled, and you felt her hands on your face, brushing the tears away. "I'm so ... I'm just so...
"I know." She blinked as if there were cogs turning behind her eyes. "Here, come with me."
She took your hand in hers and pulled you to your feet before guiding you out of the hut. Your eyebrows furrowed as you opened your mouth to speak, maybe to object, but decided against it in the end. Through the trees you two went. A few of the girls watched as you left, but they didn't try to intervene. Nobody intervened when Shauna was involved.
When you two finally reached a quiet, empty area, she pointed toward a birch tree—not too wide and not nearly as tall as some of the evergreens. One thing about birch trees, though, is that their knots resemble eyes. And fuck, how you wanted to just—
"Punch it."
It was like she read your mind.
"Punch it?" you asked. "I mean, wouldn't that hurt? I don't want—"
"I'll fix you up after. I do it all the time. Look," she said, revealing her own red, scratched-up knuckles.
So that's why they look like that, you thought.
"That tree can be anyone you want it to be," she continued. "The wilderness. Your parents. Sometimes, I pretend it's Jackie..."
A beat.
"I don't know, Shaun. I..."
You felt the rage inside you simmering. All the months you'd spent out here. Alone. In the cold. Nobody to rescue you. Any of you. Starving. All the arguments. Fights. Jackie. People had died here. People important to Shauna, to you. And there was no end in sight... Your fists clenched then released. Over and over.
Shauna stepped toward you. "Let it out. You need to let it out."
Everything inside you screamed, throw the punch, but you couldn't. You weren't a violent person. You'd tried not to be. And you'd kept it bottled up for so long, it felt wrong to let it out now, no matter the circumstances. Plus, you'd be injured if you did. Why would you want to be angry and in pain? Your arms fell slack by your sides.
"I can't," you said, defeated, and Shauna rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact with you.
She felt almost as embarrassed as you did because she had shared something with you she found special: somewhere she'd go when she felt as angry as you did now. Her sacred spot. She began walking back through the trees. Without you.
"Shauna? Shauna, come on, wait ... please, don't go." You followed behind her, pushing stray branches out of your way at every turn.
She didn't say anything in response, and that made you angrier. You were already angry, but being ignored on top of it? You couldn't handle that.
"Shauna," you said once more, pressing.
Soon, camp came into view, and before you could object, Shauna was already stomping toward the hut. However, the previous day, Shauna had spit in Mari's soup, so she had been thinking, brewing, and you just so happened to be the object of her anger. Because if she hurts you, she hurts Shauna. Arms crossed, the girl swayed over to you with a snarky grin on her face.
"Hey, [y/n], out of curiosity..."
Shauna paused at the entrance to the hut. Listening. You exhaled and tried to contain yourself. Not today. Not today. The fakest smile you'd ever made appeared on your lips.
She let out a small laugh. "No, I just wanted to know ... like ... I think everyone does actually."
By this point, most of the girls had already turned their heads. Anything was entertainment to them out here. However, a few of them had their concerns, especially since Shauna would likely get involved, and they remembered what had happened with Lottie.
Your hands trembled while heat spread throughout your body, popping up like pinpricks across your flesh. You already knew whatever she had to say wouldn't be positive or kind or good. Not to say Mari was a bad person, but she had been on both yours and Shauna's radar for some time. She found joy in pissing off your girlfriend, and that didn't fly with you. Not like you'd done anything about it up until this point, though, but you wanted to.
Mari smiled. "So, does Shauna make you call her Shipman in bed or—"
There it was.
Before you could think or rationalize, your fist swung at her face, knocking her square onto her ass in the dirt. But it didn't stop there. You crawled on top of her, much like Shauna had with Lottie, and swung again and again. The knees of your jeans turned brown as she squirmed beneath you.
All of the Yellowjackets' voices faded into the background. The only one you could pick out was Van's: "Woah, hey, woah! Get off, [y/n]!" If Mari had been saying anything, you wouldn't have known it. But, as your surroundings too began to blur into the anger and the violence, you felt hands on you, pulling you off the girl.
Surprisingly, Shauna's. Turning around, you saw your girlfriend, a look of shock plastered across her face. She wrapped her arms around you and guided you into the hut in a rush, leaving everyone else in the dust. She didn't find any importance in staying or apologizing or even explaining. The others would tend to Mari, and you didn't hurt her nearly as bad as you could've. She'd be fine.
Once inside, she held your face with both hands, careful not to press too hard.
"Okay, that is not what I meant," Shauna said. "Fuck, [y/n], Jesus fucking Christ."
"Are you mad?" was all you could get out. Your mind still felt full, clouded, and your stomach twirled and knotted as you spoke.
"Mad? You're kidding, right?" Shauna's touch left your face, and her hands found yours. Your knuckles were splotchy; she was reminded of all the times hers had looked similar. They looked like that now, and it made her think: You and I are the same. She raised your fists to her mouth and pressed soft kisses on the reddening skin.
"I just didn't expect it," she added.
Your eyes looked up to meet hers. You were half-foggy now, and the sight of Shauna alone made you feel almost clear. She gazed at your mouth then your eyes and then back to your mouth before kissing you tenderly. Her lips were cracked, but so were yours, and yet they glided against each other effortlessly. Shauna wanted to take you right then and there, of course, the sight of you battering Mari was enough to turn her on. She'd been turned on from less when it came to you. However, she knew where you were mentally, and she needed you calm and okay before going there. But oh, how she wanted to so desperately. Her lips slipped away from yours, and you whined in response.
"It's okay, alright? Next time the bitch says something, let me handle it," Shauna said. "I'm supposed to be the one throwing the punches, not you."
"It felt good."
"I told you it would. But next time, let's maybe aim that anger somewhere else, yeah? I don't want you getting mixed up in all that. You've been scot-free up until now, and I'd like to keep it that way." She then added, much smaller: "Don't want you getting hurt."
"What about Mari, I—"
"Shhh," she cut you off, pressing a finger to your lips, and you could feel the warmth emanating off her. She was still so close. "I'll handle it, sweetheart. Your job is staying put."
As she turned to leave, you tried to argue, and she interrupted you once more: "Stay. Here."