STRANGERS ♱ yellowjackets

40. who the fuck is charlotte matthews

NATALIE HAD TO GET OUT OF THAT ROOM.

The room was oddly warm but simple. Natalie's wrists were strapped to the bed, the leather biting into her skin with every futile struggle. The dim light cast eerie shadows on the walls, giving the impression of a place designed more for containment than healing. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the rising panic within her. She had to get out.

Time seemed to stretch indefinitely as she lay there alone. The walls felt like they were closing in, the starkness of the room amplifying her growing anxiety. Hours might have passed—or mere minutes—she couldn't tell. Just when despair threatened to consume her, the door creaked open, and a worker entered.

The woman was dressed in an annoyingly cheerful shade of lavender that clashed sharply with the sterile environment. Natalie couldn't help but roll her eyes at the absurdity of it.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Okay, rude", the worker scoffed, as she pushed the door close behind her. Her brown eyes were glued on the woman as she took a courageous step into the room. But Natalie could sense that she feared her. "Rude? You kidnap me and strap me into a fucking bed!", Natalie exclaimed, her voice sharp as she yelled. "We were afraid you were gonna hurt yourself. Wonder where we got that idea", the worker said, tilting her head slightly.

"Who's 'we'?", Natalie asked, her voice low as she looked at the woman suspiciously. The worker shifted on her feet, shaking her head, "I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Well, you're doing a really good job of it so far. That's okay, that thing around your neck tells me all I need to know", Natalie spits out as she eyes the worker and the necklace that hangs around her neck. The symbol.

At that moment Natalie forms a plan, she has to get away from these creeps in some way.

"Oh, please, I can't do anything to you like this", Natalie scoffs as the guard squeezes her necklace in fear. The worker rolls her eyes and sets down the tray next to Natalie, "I'm not afraid of you", she says, but her voice isn't even near to convincing. Natalie licks her lips as she thinks about her next move, "but you've never done this before have you?"

The woman stays silent. "Look, you got to undo me if I'm gonna eat", Natalie says, "I mean at least undo one! I am starving."

As the worker unlocks one of Natalie's ties, the plan clears in Natalie's mind. She knows what she's going to do.

Her chance came when the worker entered the room to check on her once more. Natalie feigned calmness, her mind racing with potential escape plans. As the worker leaned in to adjust one of the straps, Natalie seized the moment. With a swift, desperate movement, she yanked her hand free and struck the woman across the face with a fork, hard enough to send her reeling. The woman fell back, clutching her cheek, and Natalie bolted for the door, the sound of her breathing loud in her ears.

Outside it was dark and the weird ambiance of wherever she was made Natalie sick to her stomach. She sprints through the thick underbrush, each step a desperate bid for freedom. The branches claw at her skin, leaving thin, stinging scratches as she dodges low-hanging limbs and jagged rocks. The night air is heavy with damp earth and the pungent scent of decaying leaves, a stark contrast to the cold sweat clinging to her skin. Her heart races, echoing the fear pounding in her chest—time feels suspended, the moon casting distorted shadows that twist around her like the twisted thoughts in her mind.

Then she freezes. In the darkness ahead, a figure stands motionless, barely distinguishable against the backdrop of trees. Every instinct screams at her to run, yet she can't look away. The figure steps into a patch of moonlight, revealing a girl whose wide, curious eyes seem to pierce through the night. Her strawberry-blonde hair glows like fire in the dark, framing a face that is both hauntingly beautiful and achingly familiar.

Natalie's stomach churns. This girl, with her fair, snow-white skin, brings a rush of memories flooding back—memories that twist like barbed wire around her heart. She feels a primal urge to scream, to lash out, but her voice falters in her throat.

"Bunny", Natalie manages to whisper, but the girl remains still, her eyes wide like a deer in headlights. The figure stares back at her, a silent recognition hanging in the air before she slowly turns and slips back into the shadows, leaving Natalie feeling hollow and lost.

A sharp pain thuds at the back of Natalie's head, like ghost pain. That jolt of pain snaps her out of her trance. Am I drugged? Panic surges through her veins, and she instinctively grabs a jagged piece of wood lying at her feet, gripping it tightly, her only means of defense. Was there something in the food she ate?

She takes off again, plunging deeper into the woods, where the haunting sounds of drums begin to pulse in the air. The rhythm is tribal, primal—a call that pulls her forward despite the terror curling in her gut. As she navigates through the tangled trees, the drumming grows louder, a heartbeat of the forest that resonates with her fear.

Eventually, she stumbles upon a clearing illuminated by flickering firelight. Her breath catches as she takes in the bizarre scene before her: a group of masked figures, their faces obscured but their movements frenzied, dance in a circle around a man who kneels at the center. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and something sweetly acrid, a ritualistic offering to the night. As the drums pound in time with her racing heart, she watches in horror as the crowd begins to bury the man alive, earth clumping in his hair, obscuring his terrified face.

And then she sees her—a flash of familiarity that ignites a firestorm of emotions within Natalie. There, at the edge of the circle, stands Charlotte Matthews, her once-friend now an enigma wrapped in shadows. Anger ignites in Natalie's veins, hot and consuming. "Lottie!" she yells, her voice breaking through the chaos, raw and desperate.

Charlotte turns slowly, the professional mask slipping away for a moment, revealing wide, startled eyes. For a heartbeat, time halts; the world around them fades into a blur, leaving only the two of them suspended in this dark, twisted nightmare. Natalie steps out of the shadows, fueled by fury and fear, every instinct screaming to rescue her friend from whatever fate awaits her here.

As Natalie runs forward she is attacked by a few of the people who stand around Lottie. "It's okay, it's okay", Charlotte says raising her hand.

"She's my friend", Charlotte says, her tone calm as she speaks. Natalie cocks her head, their history hanging heavy between the two. "Is that what we are?", Natalie asks, her voice sharp like a blade. Charlotte tilts her head, letting out a small sigh.

"Natalie", Charlotte sighs.

"You give me one good reason why I shouldn't cave your head in and put in in that hole", Natalie warns.

Lottie stood there, waiting. The woman who had once been her friend is now a stranger in so many ways. Lottie's presence was commanding, yet serene. She seemed almost ethereal, a beacon of calm amidst the chaos. Her eyes met Natalie's with a softness that was disarming, but Natalie's suspicion flared. It had been almost 25 years since they had last seen each other, and the woman before her now was a far cry from the wild, unpredictable girl she remembered. This wouldn't be easy, Natalie knew it.

"Because I have a message for you", Charlotte says with a smile as she looks at Natalie. Natalie breathes out in anger, holding the stick up in the air like it will do something if these people decide to attack her. "From Travis... And Susann-Rose."