heavenward | n.scatorccio

The road stretched before them like an old scar, cracked and split, nature slowly reclaiming what was once man-made. The pavement was littered with the remnants of a world that no longer belonged to them—rusted-out cars, shattered glass, the occasional skeleton of something long-dead and unburied. Buildings stood empty and yawning, their insides gutted, windows like empty eye sockets. A stop sign lay half-buried in the dirt, warning them to halt long after it had lost its authority.

Julianna walked through it all without really seeing it.

She heard her own footsteps, the rhythmic scuff of her boots against broken asphalt, the crunch of debris beneath her soles. She heard Javi's breath, slow and uneven beside her, his arm brushing hers every few steps. She heard Natalie ahead of them, the click of her crossbow shifting in her hands, the way she occasionally cleared her throat like she wanted to say something but never did.

She heard Misty too, trying—God, trying—to keep things from falling apart at the seams.

"Okay, I know morale's kinda eh right now, but hey, we haven't seen anything super bad today, right? Just a couple runners, and bam—handled. Efficient. We're basically pros at this now."

Silence.

Misty huffed. "Tough crowd."

Jackie, arms crossed, scoffed. "Maybe take the hint and stop talking."

Misty's expression flickered, just for a second, but then she straightened her shoulders, puffed out her chest, and went on like she hadn't heard.

"I mean, sure, things could be better," she continued, "but they could also be so much worse! Like, we could be lost in the middle of a blizzard. Or one of us could be infected. Or—"

"Misty," Shauna cut in, voice dry. "Shut the fuck up."

Misty rolled her eyes but finally let the conversation die.

Julianna's mind felt like a house stripped bare, empty rooms, hollowed-out hallways. Sometimes, the wind would pass through, and the doors would creak on their hinges, reminding her of the ghost of something that used to live there.

Something like Jeff's laugh, low and warm.

Something like his voice, nudging into her thoughts.

"Jesus, Jules, you look like you haven't slept in a decade."

She blinked, and he was gone.

Javi's fingers brushed against hers to which she didn't pull away.

Ahead, Shauna and Jackie walked on opposite sides of the road, their silence louder than words. The space between them was malevolent and wounding, filled with things unsaid. Shauna's gaze was cold as steel, fixed where the sky bled into the earth in a jagged line of uncertainty, colors swirling from soft pinks to bruised purples, as if the horizon itself was torn between worlds, unwilling to choose a side.

Jackie, like a statue carved from grief and silence, kept her arms wound tight around herself, her face a flawless mask of indifference, betraying nothing of the seething void lurking beneath, a chasm of sorrow that no one would ever dare come close enough to touch.

Lottie drifted between conversations like a ghost, touching Jackie's shoulder, murmuring something to Shauna, trying to smooth the edges, but the cracks were too deep.

Natalie kept casting subtle glances at Julianna, her gaze soft but persistent, like a quiet pulse, always making sure she was still there, still breathing.

Julianna felt it every time, like a hand hovering just above her back, like the whisper of warmth without touch.

But she kept walking.

Step after heavy step, each one a burden dragging her deeper into the ground. Her feet scraped against the dirt, the heaviness of her own body felt like a betrayal. The world blurred, but she kept moving,—because she couldn't remember a time when she hadn't. As though the act itself was the only thing keeping her tethered to a reality that no longer made sense.

West Virginia sprawled before them, a dark expanse, muted and brooding, as if the land itself had lost the will to speak. There was no longer comfort in the stillness; only the asphyxiating sense that time had forgotten this place, leaving behind a silence too vast, too deep, to escape.

The amusement park rose from the darkness like a half-buried relic, its rusted skeleton tangled in overgrown vines and moribund lights, a place abandoned not just by people but by time itself. The towering entrance arch, once painted in bright, inviting colors, had long since faded into a dull, chipped husk of what it used to be. The words ' WONDERLAND PARK ' stretched across the top in peeling, water-stained letters, like a joke no one had the heart to laugh at anymore. The ticket booths stood lifeless, their windows shattered, drawers yanked open and ransacked, their contents stolen or left to rot.

For a moment, none of them spoke. They just stood there, their breath curling in the cold night air, staring at the gaping mouth of the park before them.

Javi was the first to move.

His head tilted slightly, his dark eyes scanning the silhouettes of the attractions stretching into the night, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, there was something in his expression that wasn't just grief or exhaustion. His fingers twitched at his sides, his weight shifting forward like he wanted to take off running.

He didn't, though.

He just whispered, "Whoa."

The others followed his gaze.

Beyond the entrance, the park splayed in eerie stillness. A rusting Ferris wheel loomed in the distance, frozen mid-turn, its metal frame creaking when the wind pushed through. The carousel stood deathly still, its painted horses frozen in place, their glass eyes reflecting the moonlight in a way that made them look almost animated. The booths lining the main path were mostly wrecked, their prizes long ruined—stuffed animals with their stuffing leaking from their bellies, plastic trinkets scattered across the ground like forgotten remnants of something that had once been fun.

Jackie exhaled sharply, her voice creeping with something between amusement and disbelief. "This place is fucking creepy."

Shauna, standing slightly behind her, just crossed her arms and frowned, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

Natalie kicked at a discarded popcorn bucket, watching as it rolled a few inches before coming to a stop against a rusted bench. "Creepy and a waste of time," she muttered. "There's no point hanging around."

"Oh, come on." Misty's voice cut through the tired sighs, her eyes practically glowing as she turned in a slow circle, drinking in the park around them like it was the most exciting thing she'd ever seen. "Are you guys seriously not even a little excited about this? I mean, look at it—it's like stepping into some weird time capsule. Think about it. This place used to be full of people. Kids running around, parents yelling, rides going off, music playing... and now it's just this."

Shauna shot her a look. "Wow. So profound."

Misty huffed, brushing off the sarcasm. "I'm just saying. We could take, like, one night to just... I don't know. Breathe."

Natalie arched a brow. "In an amusement park that's probably crawling with infected?"

"Pfft." Misty waved a hand dismissively. "I cleared out the area with the whole electric shock thing, remember? We should be fine."

"Should be." Natalie let the words hang in the air for a second before shaking her head. "Whatever. If we get ripped apart because we wanted to play carnival games, I'm blaming you."

After Jeff's death, the hunters still clustered around the radio tower, throwing themselves against the weak glass windows. But in a razor-thin instant, something clicked in Misty's ever-turning mind. The flickering lights, the scrambled radio signals—it wasn't the tower. It was the Soma.

Advanced Soma generated faint bioelectric fields, distorting the air, making electronics stutter in their presence. That realization slithered through her like a jolt of static, crackling with possibility. If they could disrupt signals, then signals could disrupt them.

With a sharp intake of breath, her hands moved before thought could catch up. The tower, the radio—it wasn't just a vantage point. It was a weapon. And from the safety of her perch, with only the hum of the radio and the pulse of electricity on her skin, Misty wiped out the creatures below, their bodies collapsing like marionettes with their strings cut, undone by the very interference they unknowingly carried.

They just didn't know how far out it had managed to reach.

No one moved for another long moment, the cold wind threading through the silence, rustling the dead leaves scattered across the pavement.

Then Javi took another step forward.

He wandered toward one of the game booths, his fingers grazing over the chipped wood of the counter. The faded sign above it read 'RING TOSS—WIN BIG!', though the paint had peeled so much that some of the letters were barely legible. A few of the rings still sat where they'd been left, covered in an itching layer of dust, the glass bottles stacked in a careless pyramid behind them.

Julianna, who hadn't spoken since they arrived, followed him without really thinking.

Javi reached out, brushing some of the dust off one of the rings, his fingertips leaving faint trails behind. He picked it up, weighing it in his palm for a second before pulling his arm back and tossing it toward the bottles.

It missed.

His brows pulled together slightly. He grabbed another.

This time, it landed.

It wasn't much. It was nothing, really. Just a stupid game. A dead game in a dead park in a dead world.

But Javi turned to her, a smile on his face, and there was something on his face that wasn't just loss.

Julianna stared at him, then at the ring still sitting at the base of the bottle, and something almost instinctive stirred in her chest. Her hand moved before she could stop it, her fingers wrapping around one of the remaining rings.

It felt strange. Cold, plastic, unfamiliar, but familiar all at once.

She tossed it.

It spun in the air, hitting the rim of a bottle, rolling once before slipping off and landing on the counter.

Javi let out a quiet, breathy laugh.

Julianna didn't know if she smiled, but she thought maybe she came close.

Somewhere behind them, there was a deep, metallic groan, followed by a sudden, warped melody.

She turned just in time to see the carousel coming to life, its horses jerking forward in uneven, sluggish movements. The music was barely there, the notes stretching and warbling like they were being pulled from somewhere wrong, but it was something.

Misty had her hands on the control panel, her grin practically splitting her face. "There we go!"

Jackie let out a small laugh, stepping onto the platform, dragging her fingers over the mane of a once-brightly painted horse.

Lottie followed, placing a hand on the saddle before swinging a leg over.

Natalie scoffed, crossing her arms, but there was no real annoyance in her face as she muttered, "You guys are ridiculous."

"You're just mad because you don't know how to have fun," Misty shot back, climbing onto a horse of her own.

"I know how to have fun." Natalie's eyes flicked toward Julianna for half a second before she exhaled, shaking her head. "I just don't trust this place."

Shauna lingered a few feet away, arms still crossed, her expression unreadable as she watched the others.

Julianna didn't move. She stood at the edge of it all, watching them with the same detached, dazed stare she had been wearing for days.

She could almost hear Jeff's voice.

"Come on, Jules. What, you too cool to have fun?"

He would've gone straight for the biggest ride here. He would've made her get on it with him, would've laughed if she got scared, would've shoved her shoulder and called her a wimp, would've—

Javi nudged her elbow.

She blinked.

Javi stood beside her, his small frame pressed against hers, his fingers curled into the sleeve of her jacket like he thought she might disappear if he let go. Maybe she would.

He didn't say anything—just motioned toward the carousel.

The music crackled, its ancient speakers
spitting a mix of melody and static and broken sound into the air, like a ghost whispering through the wires.

Julianna barely registered it.

She stood beside him, fingers idly twisting the fraying string on her sleeve, unraveling it thread by thread, as if loosening it might somehow ease the tightness in her chest, while watching the world through a warped, blood-smeared glass.

Snow drifted lazily against the amusement park, blanketing the rides in soft white. It looked peaceful. Safe, even. Like the earth had buried all its horrors beneath the frost.

But she knew better.

The neon lights flickered over Julianna's face, casting long, shifting shadows, but she barely felt the light. It didn't reach her. Not really.

Nothing had for days. Maybe longer. Maybe since the moment Jeff's blood had hit the glass, splattered in messy, wet arcs, coating her reflection until she couldn't even see her own face, just red, red, red.

The last few days have just been Natalie murmuring things to Javi, Misty's chipper attempts to keep spirits up, the occasional tense snap of Jackie's voice whenever Shauna got too close, but none of it felt real. Like a radio station just slightly off-tune, voices blurring together in a way that didn't quite connect.

She was tired.

Julianna shifted, hitching the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder. With a small, almost absent motion, she gestured for Javi to join Misty on the carousel, her gaze distant, unreadable.

"I'm gonna go on a walk, she said suddenly. Her voice was flat, like she wasn't asking, just informing.

Natalie, leaning against an overturned cotton candy stand, lifted her head slightly. "It's late," she pointed out, her usual casual tone still there, but laced with something else. Something scarily similar to concern.

Julianna shrugged. "So?"

Misty perked up. "You could wait 'til morning! I mean, we don't know what's still lurking around here. Some infected can be dormant in colder temperatures but, y'know, not all of them-"

"I won't go far," Julianna interrupted, brushing past her.

She didn't say 'I'll be fine.' Because she wouldn't. And everyone knew that.

She started walking.

Javi, approaching Misty, straightened a little, his brows furrowing. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. He just watched her go.

Natalie did too.

Julianna could feel her gaze, burning into the back of her head, but she didn't turn around.
Her feet carried her forward, through the remnants of a world that didn't exist anymore.

The amusement park stretched out before her, rusting, rotting, frozen in time. She passed broken-down booths with blood-stained stuffed animals still dangling limply from their hooks, their once-bright colors dulled to lifeless grays. A roller coaster in the distance sat still and skeletal, its tracks broken in places, leading to nowhere.
The Ferris wheel loomed ahead.

Julianna stopped at the base, tilting her head back to take in the full scope of it.

Rust streaked its metal frame, the paint long since worn away, leaving it a Skeleton of what it once was. The trees swayed gently in the night breeze, creaking faintly, a sound so small in the vast emptiness around her that it almost felt like a whisper.

She reached out and gripped the metal ladder.
The cold bit into her fingertips, sharp and real.

Hand over hand, foot over foot. The metal groaned beneath her weight, shifting slightly, rust flaking off under her fingertips, but she didn't stop. Didn't hesitate. The higher she climbed, the smaller everything below her became—the tents and booths and broken-down rides shrinking into insignificance.

It should have scared her. The height, the instability, the way the wind pulled at her, swaying her slightly with every step upward.

But it didn't.

Nothing scared her anymore.

Not after that.

When she reached a booth a little over halfway up, she pulled herself inside, settling onto the cold metal seat.

The sky stretched out above her, vast and endless, speckled with weak stars. Below, the empty amusement park sprawled out in eerie silence, the occasional flicker of carnival lights still blinking weakly in the distance, like a heartbeat refusing to die.

Julianna's fingers trembled as she rummaged through her bag, her chest tight with something she couldn't even identify. The air had turned needle-sharp, slipping through fabric and flesh alike, but she hardly noticed. The night coiled around her, dense and inexorable, not just pressing in but sinking under her layers—an unwelcome phantom settling into her veins.

Her skin, pale and tinged with exhaustion, seemed to be losing the fight against the mess of her own mind. She didn't look down as she dug deeper, didn't stop when the sharp edge of the metal on her shoulder from the ride cut into her skin just slightly, didn't feel anything other than the desperate feeling that had killed out her entire existence over the past few days.

She found it. A crumpled page. Shauna's journal, the one she had snatched earlier when they were still pretending that things weren't shattered beyond repair, that she wasn't already too far gone. The paper was fragile now, curling at the edges, the ink faint where it had been handled too many times, but it was something, at least. It was an object. Something to hold. Something she could control for just a little longer.

Her breath came shallow, her hand now gripping the paper, but not with any intention of reading. No—she wasn't interested in what Shauna had written. What did that matter now? The journal was a symbol of a time before, before everything had crashed down in a spray of glass and blood. Jeff's blood. Her brother's blood. But she hadn't even bothered to read the words, hadn't cared to understand the meaning. The words from before weren't the ones she needed now, weren't the ones that could save her.

She pulled out the pen, the one she had found in the wreckage of some forgotten building, its ink long dried and faint, like everything else that had once been full of life, and with a shuddered breath, she started to write.

The first letter scratched out roughly, trembling against the paper. She had to stop for a moment, her hand hovering in mid-air, as if it might fall to the floor at any second. Her eyes fixed on the empty space, unfocused, longing—wishing she could bleed into the parchment, ink and bone dissolving into something quieter like words born from careful thought.

But no—she would write this. She had to. She had promised herself she would. Her brother's voice still echoed in her mind, muffled now, like some distant memory that wouldn't fade, couldn't be erased, but now it was a whisper she no longer could reach, a voice she'd never hear again. Would the echoes of that voice one day slip through the cracks of her memory, fading like dreams you no longer remember? She couldn't let that happen. She wouldn't.

Her brother had been her tether. The only thing that had kept her in a world that was beginning to feel too warped, too ruined to make sense of anymore. She couldn't explain it, but all of her actions, all of her decisions, everything she had ever done, had been for him. The sacrifices, even the survival, even the lies, all of it had been to make sure that he was safe, that he didn't have to face this world alone. That, together, they could make it through. They could hold each other, survive whatever bullshit was thrown their way, and when it was over, they'd have each other. They'd have that, at least.

But now?

Now, there was only the echo of what could have been, the empty air between them a canyon too wide to cross.

She gripped the pen tightly, pressing it into the page, her hand jerking slightly as she wrote again. She didn't care about the mess, didn't care about how sloppy the words looked, didn't care about anything except the quiet sense that she had nothing left to give.

She kept writing, her movements quick and jerky, the words coming out in a blur as her vision wavered, flickering like the weak carnival lights below her. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. Her throat felt tight, as though the very act of breathing was an effort, the air too thin to pull into her lungs.

The words flowed, messy and frantic, nothing like the coherent thoughts of someone who was in control of their thoughts, but that didn't matter, did it? Nothing made sense anymore. It was all nonsense. She was writing about her departure, her exit from a world she no longer recognized, a world that had fucked her brother over and left her behind to die slowly in its wake.

"I'm sorry."

That was the first thing she wrote, shaky letters sprawling across the paper, jagged and uneven. Though she wasn't sure who she was apologising to. The ink smudged in places as her hand shook, the lines so crooked they hardly seemed like words at all. But that was the point, wasn't it? What was the point of clean, neat writing anymore? She couldn't even bring herself to care about how this would look, how anyone might read it after. The only thing that mattered now was getting it out, getting the poison out of her system so she could finally rest.

"I'm sorry I wasn't enough. I'm sorry I couldn't save him. That I couldn't save you."

The pen trembled in her hand again. She paused, swallowing hard, her throat dry. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, not even registering the tears that were streaking her cheeks until she could feel them, the hot, salty liquid slipping down her face. Her chest ached, sharp and sudden, like a jolt of electricity, but there was nothing left to scream. Nothing left to do except write.

She didn't know how to live in a world without him. Without a reason.

The words didn't feel like hers. They felt like they belonged to someone else—someone who didn't know her, didn't know what it felt like to lose someone that deeply, to feel your soul rip in half when the person who held all your light is ripped from you. To not have any fire left in you, not any of that energy that had once kept you going, the will to survive, because now—now there was no one to survive for.

Her hand grew unsteady. The pen slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a dull, final thud that echoed too loudly in the quiet space around her. But it wasn't the sound that made her chest tighten, it was the realization that nothing she wrote could ever fix this. Could ever change the fact that he wasn't coming back. Couldn't change the fact that everything had come undone—her family, her world, her purpose.

She exhaled shakily, and the wind, cruel and merciless, hissed past her, fraying her thoughts with its unseen fingers, as though it sought to elucidate her from the core of her soul. It twisted around her like an old memory, leaving a chill that sunk deeper than skin, reminding her of how small she had become, how scattered and threadbare she felt in the aftermath of everything that had already been lost.

She let her head rest against the cold, rusted metal of the Ferris wheel seat. She closed her eyes. And for a long moment, she allowed herself to just be.

Julianna's fingers slowly, lethargically, curled into a fist as she let the paper slip from her lap, fluttering to the floor, a symbol of everything she couldn't change, couldn't fix.

The gun felt impossibly heavy in her hands, far heavier than it should have been. It wasn't just steel. It was everything—of nights spent staring at the ceiling, of days spent walking through a world that felt more and more like it was pushing her out, of a silence inside her that had long since stopped feeling temporary.

She had pulled it from the depths of her bag, fingers moving like they weren't quite hers, like she was watching herself from somewhere far away. The bullet slid into the chamber with a quiet finality. A small click as she took off the safety. No hesitation. No shaking hands. Just the methodical movement of someone who had long ago made up their mind.

Javi would be fine. He had Natalie. He had Shauna. They would be okay. They had each other.

The thought echoed in her head, a dull, looping mantra, as if repeating it enough times would make it feel true.

And then, below her, the Ferris wheel shifted. A groan of old metal. Barely anything at first, easy to ignore.

Her grip tightened on the gun. Leave it alone. Let me have this.

She didn't want to look. Didn't want to acknowledge the intrusion into a moment that was supposed to be hers—just hers. But before she could stop herself, she glanced down.

And there was Natalie.

Julianna paused. Just for a second.

She should have been angry. Should have snapped at her to get lost, should have told her to mind her own damn business. But she didn't, because Natalie wasn't panicked, wasn't rushing, wasn't shouting up at her to 'stop, please, don't do this.'

She was just there.

Hands gripping the rusted bars, moving carefully but not hesitantly, like she wasn't afraid of heights, wasn't afraid of falling, wasn't afraid of this.

Julianna swallowed hard. "What are you doing?"

Natalie didn't answer right away. She was still climbing, still making her way up, inch by inch, like she was giving Julianna time to breathe, time to run if she really wanted to.

When she reached the top, she settled onto the ledge beside her, legs dangling over the edge. Like this was normal. Like this was just another night.

Julianna exhaled sharply, turning her gaze back to the gun. "You're wasting your time."

Natalie didn't move. "Probably."

The response threw her off. She had anticipated a different response, a hollow show of resistance, a feigned struggle to make it seem like they had tried—anything to stave off the crushing weight of guilt that was already inevitable. But Natalie just sat there.

"Then why are you here?" Her voice came out flatter than she meant it to.

Natalie shrugged. "Because you are."

Something in Julianna's throat tightened. She forced herself to look at the amusement park lights instead, the way they blurred in the distance, stretching out like a world she no longer belonged to. "You don't have to do this."

"I know."

Julianna let out a shaky breath. God, why was she making this so hard? "I mean it, Nat. I don't need—"

"I know," Natalie said again, voice soft but steady. "I just—" She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face before looking at Julianna properly. "I just didn't want you to be alone."

The words struck a chord deep within her, stirring something long buried, a part of her that had been suffocating in its own pain for so long, she had forgotten what it meant to inhale, to feel air in her lungs.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay still. "You think I haven't already decided?"

Natalie didn't flinch. "I think you have."

Julianna let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Then why are you still here?"

"Because decisions can change."

Julianna shook her head. "Not this one."

Natalie was quiet for a moment. Then, slowly, she reached for something around her neck. Unclasping the thin, worn necklace, she held it out, the metal of the safety pin catching the faint glow of the Ferris wheel lights.

Julianna frowned. "What is that?"

"A promise."

Julianna stared at her, confused, but Natalie just turned the necklace in her fingers, letting her see the small, almost unremarkable safety pin hanging from the chain.

"I made it a long time ago," Natalie said, voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. "To myself." She paused. "To stay. No matter how bad it got. No matter how much I wanted to leave."

Julianna felt her chest tighten. "Why?"

Natalie swallowed. "Because someone once made me promise. And it helped. More than I thought it would."

Julianna glanced at the necklace, at the way Natalie held it out to her like an offering, like something fragile but unbreakable all at once.

"Julianna," Natalie said softly. "Promise me."

Julianna's breath hitched.

The gun in her lap. The necklace in Natalie's hand. The weight of both pressing down on her, sinking into her bones, into the cracks she had spent so long pretending weren't there.

She wanted to say no. Wanted to tell Natalie she was too late, that this wasn't something she could be talked out of.

But Natalie wasn't talking her out of it.

She was just asking.

A promise.

A reason to stay.

The necklace sat between Natalie's fingers, the safety pin swaying slightly with the breeze, catching the glow of the distant neon lights. Julianna couldn't take her eyes off it. It was so small. So simple. Just a thin silver chain and a safety pin, the kind of thing most people wouldn't even glance at twice.

But the weight of it, the meaning of it, made it feel like something ancient. Like something sacred.

Julianna swallowed hard, her throat closing in, her fingers twitching in her lap as she stared at it.

Natalie didn't rush her. Didn't force it into her hands. Just held it there, offering it—offering herself, in a way that was quiet and unshakable.

"Can i?" Natalie asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Julianna hesitated, but then—slowly, hesitantly—she nodded.

Natalie moved carefully, her fingers brushing against Julianna's skin as she reached behind her neck, unclasping the necklace fully. Her movements were so gentle, deliberate, like she knew exactly how fragile this moment was, like she understood that one wrong move could shatter it completely.

Julianna felt it then, the way Natalie's fingertips ghosted over the nape of her neck, warm against the cold night air, the touch so delicate it sent a shiver through her spine. She had spent so long feeling untouchable, like a ghost moving through the world unseen, unnoticed. But this?

This was someone seeing her.

Someone choosing to touch her, not out of pity, not out of obligation, but because they wanted to.

She exhaled shakily as Natalie gathered her hair, fingers brushing through the strands with a softness that made something ache deep in Julianna's chest.

Then came the necklace—light, so much lighter than the gun, but somehow stabilising in a way she hadn't expected. The chain slipped over her skin, settling just below her collarbone, and the second it was in place, something inside her cracked wide open.

The gun was still there in her lap, but it suddenly felt so far away. Like it didn't belong to her anymore.

Natalie's fingers lingered for a moment, adjusting the chain, the safety pin resting just over her heart.

"There," she murmured.

Julianna's breath faltered, an unsteady shudder creeping up her spine, as if the air itself had become too clustered, too heavy to draw in. It was a tremor, sore and untamed, winding through her chest.

It was too much. Everything was too much. The gentle way Natalie touched her. The way she had climbed up here without hesitation. The way she had offered her something that wasn't just a promise but a piece of herself.

She felt it rising in her chest, raw and unbearable. Her lips parted, like she wanted to say something, like she needed to say something, but no words came. Just a sharp inhale, then another, then another, until finally, the first sob slipped out.

And once it did, she couldn't stop it.

Her shoulders shook as the sound broke free, quiet at first, then less so, her hands clutching the fabric of her jeans, then moving without thinking, grabbing onto Natalie's arm like she needed something, anything, to hold onto.

Natalie didn't hesitate.

She pulled her in, wrapping her arms around her tightly, pressing her chin lightly against the top of Julianna's head as if to shield her from the world, from the cold, from herself.

Julianna sobbed into her shoulder, silent but deep, her fingers twisting into the fabric of Natalie's jacket, gripping it so tightly she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to let go.

And Natalie just held her, again, the touch becoming familiar.

Not saying anything. Not telling her it was okay.

Just holding her.

Just staying.

And for the first time in a long, long time—Julianna let herself be held.

And for the first time in a long, long time—

She didn't feel alone.