doomsday. [ yellowjackets ]

trente-trois.

xxx.

chapter trente-trois.
chapter thirty three.

1996.

xxx.

         Alex didn't know that a body frozen for over two months could still drip blood. She had never thought to imagine it before, but she would've guessed that the blood would've been frozen too, or dried up; she never paid attention in anatomy class, she wouldn't know. She also didn't know what a body, completely stripped of its flesh, muscles, tendons— everything but the blacked bones —would look like either, and now, she had a front row seat to it.

As she sat crouched by the funeral pyre, her hands clasped in front of her face and her head leaning against them, she thought another apology to Jackie. She was sorry that she didn't try to stop them, even though she was petrified in the moment; now, she wasn't. She didn't care that the rest of them had ravaged Jackie's body for every inch of edible meat left on her frail bones, she wasn't afraid of them.

But it was hard to explain what she was feeling.

The dripping had become so rhythmic and constant that Alex almost didn't even notice it, nor the smoked, gory smell radiating in the area. She had already thrown up what little contents of food remained in her stomach as soon as she forced herself to walk outside early that morning, wanting to be awake before the others; she refused to let them be up first and have the say of what to do with Jackie's bones now that they had infested her body. For all she knew, they'd try to use her fingers as toothpicks.

The morbid thought drew Alex out of her cavern, making the short hair girl stand back up. She pulled her beanie off and ran her hands over her head before she slipped it back on and tugged it further down her ears. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her letterman jacket, posing her finger against the fabric anxiously.

She was, however, afraid of what was to come when they all woke up. Not for herself, she could handle her own shit, and honestly, Alex would love for one of them to come anywhere near her with intent to harm so she could finally have something to take out her burdens on. No, she was afraid of the unknown, the uncertainty of it all. Would they all wake up, bloodthirsty and looking for more to devour and tear down to the bone? Would they pretend like it didn't happen? Act like they 'did what they had to do'?

Coach Scott had been awake when Alex got up, but when she tried to whisper to him so they could talk about what happened the night prior, he ignored her; not maliciously, but in a way like he hadn't even heard or noticed her. There was a far out state settled in his eyes, and he remained motionless, and Alex chose to leave him be as to not dwell on the potential outcome too long. Natalie was also up shortly after that, she was used to getting up at the crack of dawn to go out on hunts with Travis and Sam.

The bleached blonde squatted on the stairs of the porch then as the snow gently fell in front of her. Natalie's anxiously rocked on her heels and held her fists together, staring at Jackie's leftover corpse with innate understanding of what they had done.

Alex didn't speak to her, even though maybe twenty minutes had passed between the both of them sitting outside. She didn't know what to say, honestly. She was angry, beyond furious and pissed off, and equally as disgusted with the rest of them, and while Alex would never back down from what she believed, she also saw a very familiar situation in her future. If she acted just like Jackie had the night after Doomcoming, they'll likely ice her out, too.