Something to Bond Over || Until Dawn Jossam

The Martyr [Part 03]

I wonder what kind of dark hole these two are falling in since neither of them are reacting to me walking up to them.

"Mike, Sam," I start, and as if I said a magic spell, they both look up at me at the same time in alarming speed, surprise etched on their features. I thought they'd have whiplash from the movement, and I'm just grateful that neither of them had the instinct to kill me... especially since these two are the ones who managed to kill wendigos.

"Chris," Mike whispers in a tone I can't decipher—as if my name physical hurts him to say somehow.

"Hey," Sam replies, "how're you doing?" she asks worriedly, moving a seat away from Mike and gently pulling me down to sit on the space between them.

"That's actually my line, and I can't believe you're stealing it, so screw you, Samantha," I joke to lessen the tension a bit.

Sam gives a small smile. "Well, you should pick better likes, Christopher, if they're so easy to steal." I smile at that but her face morphs back to being serious. "But seriously though, are you all right? You had us all worried for a bit there, you know."

I sigh. "I'm..." I shake my head. "It's just sinking in—what happened in and out of the lodge, I mean."

"Yeah, it was all so surreal," Sam agrees.

"No, I mean... I still don't believe it happened."

"Oh, right," she whispers, knowing that I am the most skeptic of the supernatural amongst our group.

Hell, I mocked the supernatural... and look where that got me.

"So, how are you two holding up?" I ask them just as I had asked Ashley, just wanting to know their mental state.

"I'm fine," Sam replies firmly. She's been saying that since we left the lodge.

Mike gives out a humorless snort, shaking his head. It's now obvious that this is the argument they were having earlier, and if I know Sam...

"Yeah, sure, I'm fine, too, then," I mock, rolling my eyes.

"I guess we're all fucking fine tonight," Mike says sharply.

Remembering his flinch earlier. I'm not surprised he's hating the word fine right now. They've definitely had this conversation before, and I'm betting Mike was not fine with it. I decide not to say that out loud.

Mike sighs beside me. "Chris, man, look," he starts, "I'm—"

"He's going to apologize to you," Sam cuts in.

"...Why?" I ask Mike directly.

"It's about... It's about Josh," he whispers.

Once again, hearing my best friend's name makes me want to... I don't know really... "What about him?" I ask, my throat dry and my voice broken.

"Look, I'm sorry for leaving him in the—"

"Mike, you didn't know what would have happened," Sam intervenes beside me.

"Sam, Chris and I tied him up like a little Christmas present for that motherfucking wendigo," he argues.

My hand shakes at that statement. Oh, holy shit, he's goddamn right about that, isn't he? Jo—He even complained about how tight the ropes were... and I even nearly hit him in the head with a plank of wood.

I knew I could do it. I was about to do it, but at the last second, I quickly changed my mind and disarmed Mike instead... but I knew I had it in me to hit him unconscious.

I was a part of the reason why he was taken to the mines.

"—found him in the mines. He was okay," I hear Sam beside me continue.

"Yeah, and I left him there to die, too," Mike replies with an edge to his tone.

"Mike," Sam whispers in shock.

I would have been shocked at his words, too, but I'm too busy trying to control my breathing. I look up to see that Mike has unshed tears in his eyes as he looks away. This is only getting worse for everyone.

We left my best friend to die. I let him down. We all let him down and now he's dead.

"Chris, you okay?" Sam asks beside me.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I automatically reply because that's the standard reply to when you're not feeling fine.

"There's that fucking word again," Mike grumbles. "He's your goddamn best friend, Chris."

"Mike," Sam scolds.

"God, Jesus, Mike, you think I don't know that?" I reply hotly before letting out another heavy sigh to calm myself.

Strong. I need to be strong.

"...But you're right. It's why I came here in the first place anyway—to talk about... about them. I can't stop thinking about them."

"Yeah, neither can we," Mike replies, looking at Sam from the corner of his eyes.

I look at her to see her lips pursed, eyes downcast, and back to the position she was in before I intervened their silence.

"Josh," Mike mouths at me, and I nod in reply.

Shit. I never even knew Sam had feelings for him, too. All I know is about Josh's feelings for Sam (which Josh himself didn't know). We never knew it was reciprocated. But there are no more chances for them to be together.

Because he's dead.

Dead like the Flamethrower Guy. Josh and Jess. All three of them torn apart. Skins ripped off while they scream. Organs taken apart and eaten. I think I'm gonna be sick.

"Christ Jesus, man, breathe!" I hear Mike yell beside me.

"Chris!" I see Ashley kneeling in front of me.

"God... when's this gonna stop?" I complain angrily when my breathing is nearing fine. "My lungs are fucking demanding," I joke without humor.

"Chris, it's okay—"

"No, it's not," I say calmly. "Why am I the only one hyperventilating around like a socially awkward little kid being forced to sing in front of a hundred people?" I ask no one, rubbing my face with my palms.

I am met with silence.

"Chris, what are you thinking about when you are panicking?" Ashley asks me again.

I shift uncomfortably at Mike's and Sam's stares. "I told you... I think about the three of them."

"Chris, besides Josh's faked death, you're the only one who actually saw someone die," Sam whispers in shock—as if she found the key to the whole puzzle.

In fact, she did. I am. I'm the only one who saw someone actually die.

And I'm the only one who knows how the wendigos eat their prey. How Beth, Jess, and Josh were handled upon their deaths. I'm the only one who knows about them.

And I can't let them know. It'll break them, too.

"Chris, what do you know about their deaths?" Mike asks.

"No, bro, I'm not gonna talk about that."

"Chris—" Mike starts again.

"No. Let's not... Let's not talk about this anymore. I'm done. I'm tired," I tell them honestly.

"I thought you came here to talk about—"

"Well, I can be an idiot sometimes, you know," I say sharply.

"Chris," Ashley scolds in a quiet tone.

"No, I'm serious. Talking about it is a mistake. I'm not. I don't want to deal with this shit right now..."

Sam nods. "Yeah, none of us are."

Then the doors open.

And Mr. and Mrs. Washington enter.