ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴠᴇ— 2023 ⮑STOP ALL THE CLOCKS — BOSTON, MASS
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LENNON MARIANO'S LUCK WITH MUSEUMS HAD RUN OUT TWO YEARS AGO IN DOWNTOWN BOSTON. The very mention of the word brought her back to those moments— her frail body enveloped in blood, trapped by painful convulsions as her knuckles turned white around the knife.
Staring up at the colossal red brick building, a once magnificent repository of history that had since been overtaken by two decades of cordyceps growth, she's reminded not just of her own history— but her shortcomings.
Then, there had still been a strum of naive hope that echoed through her veins. It had been enough of an ache to blur her doubts about the situation, thoughts that would have kept them safe. Alive.
That night, Lennon had cut that part of herself out too, and she'd vowed to never pick it back up. It was the only way to keep everybody she cared about safe. To keep everybody she cared about alive.
The toe of her duty converse sink into the ashy gray tendrils of the cordyceps, which stretched through the open door and spilled onto the gravel below. As the vines turn to dust beneath her, her knowing gaze turns to the two adults, "Bone dry," She says, motioning towards the museum, "If we're lucky they're all dead inside."
Joel throws her a look and she sighs, swinging her backpack around to hang against her chest. Her actions mirrored by the two adults, Joel casts a glance toward the youngest girl, her hands bare. Raising his own flashlight up in response, he asks, "Marlene pack you one of these, or just sandwiches?"
"Yeah," Ellie responds, rolling her eyes in annoyance.
She swings her own backpack around, unzipping the faded green bag caked by years of dirt and blood. Fingers rifling through the contents, two half folded comic books, an extra sandwich, too many reminders of Lennon, and an array of cool rocks she'd collected through the years, her movements slow to a sudden stop as she grazes the soft fur of a stuffed animal.
Through years of nightly cuddles, Wilson's curls have matted into a rigid mess. A few pieces of fraying thread stick out from the two decades old stitching, yet Lennons initials remained imprinted into his paw in bold red thread. Ellie had run her thumb over the paw enough that the letters were engraved in her mind, a reminder that Ellie would never be able to fully escape the girl— Something she still didn't know how to feel about.
Retracting her hand, Ellie's eyes shoot up to catch the redhead hot on Joel's heels, already following Joel into the arrivals of whatever horrors lay ahead. The brunette rips the flashlight from her bag, and swings the green canvas behind her, stumbling over her own feet as she climbs up the stairway entrance just behind Tess.
The inside of the museum is in worse shape than the outside— Floor to ceiling engulfed in decades old tendrils, years of dried dirt and blood staining the floor. Engulfed in darkness, Ellie passes her flashlight over the redhead a few feet in front of her. Every nervous tic Ellie had come to recognize exudes from the older girls every move, her eyes anxiously darting around the building as her finger rubs the cold metal of the weapon in her right hand.
