When you’re feeling safe in your skin
shauna doesn’t even think about it anymore. her hands just move.
the knife carves through muscle, through tendon, splitting open flesh like it’s second nature. the deer is fresh—nat brought it in earlier, an arrow straight through the heart. a clean kill. shauna should be grateful for that. it makes her job easier.
but as she peels back the skin, as she slides the blade along bone, something in her feels… distant. like she’s not here. like she’s just watching herself do this, watching the blood slick her hands, watching the red pool on the table like it always does.
she presses the tip of the knife into the muscle, testing the resistance, the give.
it’s so easy. all of it. it barely takes any effort at all.
shauna exhales. shifts her grip—
—and then the blade is at her wrist.
her whole body stills.
the metal is cold, despite the blood. the point rests right against the vein, light as a whisper.
her pulse is steady. too steady. she should be scared, shouldn’t she? she should care.
but she doesn’t.
all she can think about is how easy it would be.
she’s done this to so many things. rabbits, birds, deer. even javi. and in the end, it was all just… meat.
so what’s the difference?
her fingers tighten around the handle.
just a little pressure. just enough to—
“what the fuck?”
shauna flinches. the knife clatters to the floor.
her head snaps up, and nat is standing there, eyes wide, breathing uneven, like she’s trying to decide whether to be pissed or horrified.
for a second, neither of them speak.
then—
“jesus christ, shauna,” nat breathes, stepping forward too fast. “what the fuck was that?”
shauna shakes her head automatically. “nothing.”
nat scoffs, eyes flicking to the knife, then back to shauna’s wrist. “that didn’t look like fucking nothing.”
shauna swallows. her mouth is dry. she looks down at her hands, at the blood staining her fingers.
“i wasn’t gonna do anything,” she mutters.
nat doesn’t look convinced. “yeah?” her voice is sharper now. “so you just happened to have a knife at your wrist for fun?”
shauna exhales hard through her nose, reaching down to grab the knife. her grip is too tight. “i don’t know,” she says, and it’s the truth. she doesn’t know. she doesn’t even remember making the choice. one second, she was skinning the deer. the next, she was—
nat grabs her wrist.
not hard, not rough, but firm enough to make shauna freeze.
“hey,” nat says, softer now, like she’s trying to ground her. “talk to me.”
shauna stares at her. she hates this. the way nat is looking at her. like she’s breakable. like she cares.
she doesn’t want to talk about it. she wants nat to drop it, to turn around and leave, to pretend she never saw.
but nat doesn’t. she just holds shauna’s wrist, waiting.
shauna exhales. her shoulders drop, just slightly.
“i just wanted to know,” she says finally, voice quiet.
nat frowns. “know what?”
shauna hesitates. Then, barely above a whisper—
“if i’m the same as everything else.”
nat goes still.
her grip on shauna’s wrist doesn’t tighten, doesn’t loosen.
shauna doesn’t know what she expects her to say. maybe nothing. maybe something meaningless, something empty. maybe she expects her to just let go.
but then nat exhales, long and slow.
and she doesn’t let go.
“you’re not,” she says, voice steady, certain. “you’re not just… fucking meat, shauna.”
shauna swallows. looks away.
she wants to believe that.
but she’s not sure she does.