Survival Of The Fittest

Katelyn Graves was going to die.

That was a fact that she was intimately familiar with, something she had known from an age that most would still believe themselves to be invincible. She couldn't imagine that her peers thought about their own demise as much as she did. Both she and they were, after all, still quite young. For the vast majority of them, they likely had many decades more life left to live. The naked truth was, though, that be it today, tomorrow, or next century, entropy would get them.

She knew that better than anyone.

Chaos takes everything, big and small. Stars collapse, buildings crumble, and bodies fail. There was no fate more essential to the nature of the universe than that. Her body like all others would fail, and her mind--everything that was essentially her--would be taken with it, returning to oblivion from whence it came. There would be no avoiding the inevitable cessation of her existence, no second life after death. Her mind, as real and special and unassailable as it felt to her, needed her body like a fungus needed soil. The mind was an integral part of and just as fallible as the body; one need only look at those suffering from late stage dementia to understand that essential truth.

These were the thoughts that occupied Katelyn's mind as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She simply couldn't help it, standing there, mentally tracing the faded scars that served as permanent reminders of that day all those years ago that had changed her life for the worse forever.

Five years ago on this day, chaos had nearly taken her like it had taken her parents. On two other occasions, she herself had foolishly tried to help chaos along. Yet, she still persisted, because no matter what she did chaos would one day win, just as it won with everyone and everything else that was ever born. Embracing it or not, it didn't make a difference. If she wanted to die, all she had to do was wait.

There was fear to be found there, but she did not fear the end itself. She had nearly died enough times to know that her own death was not scary. She did not fear the cessation of thought and feeling, for that was simply a return to the time before she was born, and she had effortlessly persevered through however many billions of years of that.

No, what scared her about death was what would happen after, and how her life would ultimately impact the world.

There were worlds that she had built in her head, all on her lonesome, over days and days of idle daydreaming in class and at home. Full of colorful people and wonderful vistas, of lurking monsters and the heroes that would ultimately slay them. She didn't know just how many she had built at this point, but she was just now coming to the stark realization that she had shared so few of them with others. She was afraid of their input, afraid that they would judge her for her creations. Or even worse, tear her beloved worlds apart, piece by bitter piece.

Except, if she never shared them, somehow or someway, they would be lost. Thrown into oblivion with her, never allowed to grace someone else's inner world in the same way they graced hers. The very thought terrified her. All the worlds that she had built felt so real to her, and so much bigger than her. She felt like they deserved better than being chained to the mind of one battered, ailing girl. Yet, there simply would never be enough time for her to share them in the way they deserved. She would have to pick and choose which ones she wanted to share, if she ever shared any of them at all.

She wished that was her only concern. If only it could be so simple.

There was also the matter of her legacy. They say that you actually die twice, once when you cease to be, and again when somebody mentions your name for the last time. She didn't care so much about the specifics of when her first death would come, but she wanted to make sure that her second death, the one that really mattered, would be forestalled for as long as possible. How else would her terrible, misery-filled life mean anything? If all she did was exist, be sad, and die, only to be forgotten just as quickly, would her suffering have mattered? Would it have amounted to anything in the end?

Her life had to mean something, it had to. She would make sure that it meant something, that her existence would be important to the world. Enough so that she could finally feel like she wasn't just screaming into the void, desperate for someone, somewhere to notice her, and remember her. She didn't know how she would accomplish that yet, but she was still young, and she still had some time to figure that out.

But, what if she didn't? Chaos could take her at any time. It wasn't like she had climbed into that car on that day five years ago and realized that was the last time she would ever see her mother and father alive. Just like that, they were gone, and she was left trying to pick up the pieces every day since.

She worried that one day she would be the one that others would be cleaning up after. Mourning her loss in the way she still mourned her parents, unable to forgive themselves for not saying the right thing, for not being there when it really mattered. Blaming themselves for what happened, even if they did nothing wrong. She didn't want any of her friends to feel that way about her. That was the cruelest part of her suicide attempts. She hadn't been thinking about how her death would have affected them. The pain had just become too great, and all she could think about was just wanting it to stop.

What kind of mess would she have left behind for them if she had actually succeeded? What kind of mess would she leave behind now if something were to happen?

That thought terrified her the most.

Katelyn looked away from the mirror, and the predatory eyes that stared back at her from within. It was time for her to stop pontificating at her reflection and go. Ash was waiting on her so they could pay their respects, and she knew better than to keep her older sister waiting.

Perhaps by this time next year she could finally make sense of it all.

She remembered that day as if it were yesterday.

Rain pitter-pattered on the roof of her parents' car, joining the hum of the road beneath, combining into a relaxing chorus of white noise. Little Katelyn sat in the back, the leather seat of the car rubbing somewhat uncomfortably against her thighs and calves as she kicked her legs in place. The seat belt that kept her fixed in place itched against her chest, but even though it bothered her, she was happy to be patient. Just like always, her mother had promised to get chicken nuggets for her when they were done with her appointment.

Her lips curled around the spout of her white and pink sippy cup that she clutched so tightly in her hands. The cold plastic chilled her palms as she suckled on the strawberry milk inside, savoring the creamy sweetness with each loud gulp. After a few moments of this the cup ran dry, the straw rumbling as she drained the last bits of liquid from it. Katelyn stared at it, frowning, silently wishing for it to magically be full again.

"Are you done with that, Katelyn?" her mother turned and asked, her bright blue eyes seeming to sparkle despite the gloomy conditions.

Katelyn's own eyes lit up, as she raised her arm and tossed the cup into the passenger seat where her mother was. She never could actually reach the front, given how tightly she was buckled down, so throwing the cup to her mother had become the routine.

Her mother reached into the insulated pack sitting in her lap, handing a fresh cup directly into Katelyn's overeager grasp. It was still nice and cold against the skin of her palms, despite all the time it spent out of the fridge. Part of her wondered how anything stayed cold after it was taken out of the fridge, and she was about to ask, only for her mother to interrupt her errant thoughts.

"What do you say, sweetie?"

"Thank you!" she chirped.

Her mother smiled softly at her, and she beamed back, revealing the gaps caused by recently lost baby teeth. Her mother let out a contented sigh, and turned her attention back to the road ahead. Katelyn, meanwhile, began to hum to herself between sips of her cup, making up a song in her head that made sense only to her. She stared up at the roof of the car as she hummed her new tune, and imagined a great space battle taking place between the roof light and the sunroof's control panel.

Then a shout came from the front, her father crying out. Katelyn's gaze shot forward, only to be caught off-guard by sudden acceleration throwing her hard to the left, her seat belt keeping her in place. She cried out in pain, her mind unable to comprehend what was happening as the car began to skid down the road, rattling her bones as the tires bounced against the asphalt.

Both her parents were shouting, and then she was screaming, and then her heart was pounding in her ears. She tried to make out what was happening, but couldn't see through the downpour. She tried to ask what was happening, but couldn't make out the words before her father's scream tore through her.

"BRACE!"

There was an ear-shattering roar, and screeching metal. She felt something crack in her chest, and her neck was wrenched to the right.

Then there was nothing but darkness.



Eventually, a light cut through the dark, tinging everything in a half-real glow. She was wet, and her nose was assaulted by the smell of copper. She tried to move, but her arms and legs felt so heavy. Something twisted and cold was pinning her chest to her seat. Through the sound of rain, she could hear voices, shouts, and sirens piercing her ears, making her flinch. She looked down at herself and recoiled. Her jacket was torn and red all over, and every part of her body carried a kind of dull ache. There was something sharp stuck in one of her cheeks, and it cut her when she tried to speak.

Nonetheless, she tried anyway, her voice coming out hoarse and weak between labored, shallow breaths.

"...M-Mom..?"

There was no response except for the rain, and chatter in words she didn't understand.

"...Dad..?"

There were shouts, but they didn't sound like her dad. She tried to see where they had gone, but she couldn't make anything out in the dim light.

She was very sleepy, and felt so cold.

A hand came from out of the gloom, accompanied by the sounds of crunching metal.

"Stay awake!" an unfamiliar, garbled voice said.

Nonetheless, she closed her eyes.



The rest of her recollections were fragmented, digging their jagged edges into her psyche and leaving behind nothing but still-festering wounds.

She remembered seeing many people in white coats and scrubs rushing in and out of a blindingly bright room. She remembered dinging machines, chemical odors, and blankets that itched her skin. She remembered seeing IVs hooked into her arms, dripping viscous, scarlet fluids. She remembered the pain in her wrists, and tearing them out, then waking back up only to find her arms in restraints. She remembered crying and begging, and asking what had happened and what was going on over and over again, and never getting answers beyond "you were hurt".

Katelyn remembered seeing Ash with tears in her eyes, her hand held by a man in a navy-colored suit. Another woman in a white coat entered, and sat down next to her bed. Katelyn remembered the curls of the woman's auburn hair, and her soft, sweet voice that spoke words that Katelyn would never forget.

"I'm sorry, but your mom and dad didn't make it."

She didn't remember the wail that she made afterwards.





Katelyn Graves hated cars and hospitals ever since.

Katelyn sat stock still on the sofa of her therapist's office, hands clasped together and tucked between her legs, both of them gently kicking the air in front of her. Katelyn's gaze was downcast, towards an oddly-patterned rug on the floor, tracing the geometric shapes displayed on it. Her therapist sat across the room from her, an older woman named Millie Carter, with graying hair and a soft voice, whose smile always reached her eyes. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant, and tried to nip at her skin, but her jacket kept her warm.

It had been nine minutes since she arrived, and she hadn't yet said a word. It wasn't uncommon for her to freeze up and not know what to say. Only the silence didn't worry her like it normally would, because Dr. Carter understood sometimes she needed a little time to think. People misunderstood her all the time when she spoke without thinking, so she had learned to always consider her words for a long, long time before she dared open her mouth.

"Am I... evil?" she finally muttered, her eyes cast away from her therapist's face.

"I don't think so. Why do you ask?" Dr. Carter queried.

"Well," Katelyn started to say, inhaling deeply through her nose, the kicking of her legs growing more frantic. "Doing bad things makes you evil, right?"

"Not always," Dr. Carter said. "Accidents happen, and everyone makes mistakes. Not everyone can be evil."

"Right, but," Katelyn sniffled, "what if you do it on purpose? Like... hurting people is bad, right?"

She briefly looked up at Dr. Carter, a lock of her ghostly blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. She held eye contact with her therapist for exactly one second, and then she looked back back down at the ground, and her own rapidly kicking legs.

"Yes, I'd say so," Dr. Carter replied. "Do you know why?"

"Yeah," Katelyn chirped, like she was answering a question the teacher had asked her in class. "It's because hurting them makes them feel bad!"

Dr. Carter nodded, and Katelyn smiled, only to dash it away when she remembered what she was talking about. This was the big one, the subject that had occupied her mind for the last few weeks, that had made her question everything about who she was, and she had finally worked up the courage to talk about it. Ash had always said she was responsible for what happened to their parents, that it was her fault. Her previous therapist had told her that she was a good person, and therefore she couldn't have done such a bad thing. That had made sense to her, at the time, but now she wasn't so sure.

"R-Right, so," she continued, "animals have feelings like people do. So that means that hurting them is bad, right? Except I hurt them all the time. I hurt them and eat them. I kill them. I do it on p-purpose, and I... I like it. They taste good, and hunting is fun."

She swallowed a lump in her throat, her frantic kicking resuming in force.

"B-But, that's a really m-messed up thing to say, isn't it?" she continued, straining to get her words out as her throat threatened to close up on her. "So I'm evil, I have to be."

And if she was evil, then that meant that she could've been responsible for the crash. And if she could've been responsible, and Ash was sure she was, then that meant it really was her fault that the crash happened. She was the only constant in all of her problems. She made everything around her worse, just by existing. She was an awful burden, and the world would be better off if she had died in the crash too.

"I wouldn't say that," Dr. Carter interjected, cutting off that train of thought.

"But I am!" Katelyn fired back, suddenly much louder than before. "I- I kill for fun! I eat things that don't want to be eaten! And..."

She bit her bottom lip.

"I don't feel bad about it at all," she confessed, her voice quivering, barely above a whisper. "Even though I should. Even though it's evil, and I'm evil."

"Your cat hunts things, right?" Dr. Carter countered. "And he's not evil, is he?"

Katelyn stopped, lowering her head, imagining her cat sitting in her lap. He was purring like a motor engine, firmly pressing his cheek into her hand as she gently scratched the exact spot that he wanted. She felt a warmth deep in her chest, one of pure, tender love. Then she closed her eyes, and he was gone, and she hadn't moved, and it had been twenty seconds.

"Mister Kitty doesn't feel bad either," she mumbled. "He killed a rat one time. I watched him. He didn't even eat it, he just did it for fun. So I guess he's evil too. L-Like me."

Her bottom lip trembled, she tried to continue speaking, her words straining to get through as her throat rapidly shut itself, trying to deny her any further admissions.

"Everyone hurts others, sometimes," she continued. "Everyone squishes bugs, and eats things that don't want to be eaten. So maybe it's not just me. Maybe you're wrong, and e-everyone really is evil."

Dr. Carter sighed, and flashed the kind of sad smile that Katelyn was so used to seeing at this point. Everyone looked at her that way, like a broken doll that needed fixing. Except they all knew that she could never be fixed, only patched up and made to vaguely resemble what she used to be before, so they pitied her. She was used to it at this point. She only flinched a little bit.

"Why are you so worried about being evil?" Dr. Carter asked.

Katelyn's kicking picked up even faster, her nails beginning to dig into the skin of her thighs, as she chewed on her bottom lip. She contemplated her answer for a long time, another few minutes spent completely in silence as she stared at the oddly pattered rug, debating how she wanted to respond.

"I think it's because I don't want to be bad," she said, a half-truth. "I'm afraid of being bad. Because, if I'm bad, then people won't like me, and my parents won't be proud of me."

"Well, to me," Dr. Carter started to say, that softness in her voice cushioning her words like a pillow, "it sounds more like you're more afraid of not meeting the expectations of those around you, rather than not meeting your own moral standards. Maybe you should judge yourself by what you think is right, rather than what other people expect."

Katelyn stayed quiet until the session was almost over, then finally said her last word of the day.

"Maybe."

What does it mean to love, and be loved?

Katelyn put her hand on the banister at the top of the stairs, dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, her hospital socks taken off and tucked into her pocket.

When she had wrapped that noose around her neck weeks prior, she felt like she knew what love meant, and she knew she'd never have it for herself. Now, making her way to her own bedroom for the first time in weeks, with her cat dutifully weaving around her legs, she wasn't so sure.

Mr. Kitty had been so happy to see her again, running up to her in a full sprint and talking her ear off when she came in through the front door. The last time she saw him was when she uttered her tearful goodbyes and wished him the best. She couldn't say for sure if he knew what he had been doing when he woke the whole house up that night, but she wanted to believe that he knew she was dying, and that he had to get her help. Her uncle telling her that he had been waiting by the front window for her to come home every single day without fail only reinforced that idea.

Opening the door to her room brought on a strange mixture of relief and trepidation. She had almost died the last time she had been here, with only the good graces of the black beast nuzzling her calves to thank for her continued existence, but at least she was home.

In her absence, her room had been cleaned. Her trash was empty, her bed was made and tidy, her desk was free of dust and cat hair. The carpet was clean, and felt plush under her toes. She didn't know how to feel about it, her genuine gratitude mixing as it did with cynical resentment. It may very well have been the first time her aunt and uncle demonstrated any sort of real care towards her, and all it took was her almost dying for them to show it.

Katelyn went over to her bed and flopped onto it, Mr. Kitty dutifully hopping up with her. She tugged at the plastic hospital bracelet, itching at her wrist as it was, and instinctively reached over to her bedside drawer, feeling for the razor blade within, only to come up empty-handed. She laid there for a few moments, staring at the ceiling as Mr. Kitty purred in her ear, and her face sunk as the real reason her aunt and uncle had cleaned her room dawned on her.

Frustrated, she brought the bracelet up to her mouth, and tried to bite through it as though tearing into flesh, but failed to accomplish anything besides chewing it up. With a brief glance and a bit more care and consideration, she instead brought her teeth down on the button that secured the bracelet in place, ripping it off with a twist of her neck, and spitting it out onto the floor. With one more flick of her hand, the bracelet was tossed aside.

Mr. Kitty pawed at her arm, claws poking her skin just a little. She took a deep breath from her nose in response. At least her bed still smelled like her, that same sickly-sweet mix of strawberry soap with the faintest whiff of body odor. Welcome back, the scent said to her, to your old, familiar prison. Before she could muster the energy for a response, Mr. Kitty got right in her face and drowned everything else out.

"Mrroow," he said, purring and headbutting her cheek.

"Well hi there, Mister," she purred back to him, gently scratching behind his ear in exact the spot he liked.

His purring went from a gentle rumble to the roar of a powerful engine. When she stopped, he enthusiastically rubbed his head against her hand, nuzzling against her knuckles over and over as if to say, I missed you so much! Don't you ever do that again!

She smiled, warm and tender, a face that only Mister ever saw.

Katelyn didn't know what love really was, but she knew for sure that Mr. Kitty loved her, and she loved him back. Their love wasn't like love between people, unequal as it was, with a language barrier that meant neither of them could share their feelings out loud. Yet, it was real, and they could still show it. Mister was trying his hardest to show it now, flopping over on her chest and nuzzling her neck.

Some people might dismiss the love of owner and pet, but the bond they had was stronger than any she had ever had with another person. They cared about each other, despite their differences. He didn't need to understand the intricacies of her life to know that she was troubled. He would always be at her side when she needed him most, to gently purr and stay with her when nobody else in the world would. In turn, she doted on him, spoiled him as her aunt and uncle would say, feeding him at the same time every day, brushing him every day, cleaning up after him whenever he needed it. She took better care of him than she did herself.

Katelyn nuzzled her cheek against Mister's head, holding him gently in her arms and stroking him. He trusted her so, so very much. He had fallen asleep on top of her more times than she could count, feeling safe enough to put his life in her hands over and over again. She could break his neck with only a bit of effort if she wanted, but she never ever would, and he knew that. She trusted him almost as much, confiding in him all of her deepest regrets and darkest fears, everything that she'd never share with one of her own kind. The two of them could always be comfortable with one another.

She gave him a loving squeeze, the affection she had for him knowing no bounds. She appreciated everything about him: the sound of his voice, the feeling of his fur, his affinity for hiding in the strangest places, the way he'd follow her from room to room, and how he loved salmon, but hated beef. It was too much for her to recount it all, but every time he did something, anything, she couldn't help but smile. Even if it was making a mess and vomiting on her carpet, the worst she felt was passing annoyance. She liked to believe he felt the same about her, watching her as she would draw and play games, forgiving her within moments for accidentally stepping on his tail. They were each other's favorite creature to be around.

Katelyn gave him a small kiss on the top of his head. She had more respect for him than any person, too. She took him seriously, treating him with the same dignity she'd treat a person. Always, she considered his needs and how he would feel about something, and would take into consideration what he wanted to do. The way Kitty would talk about him annoyed her sister, who would dismiss him as "just a cat", but Katelyn never took that seriously, and always treated him as an equal. To do otherwise would tarnish their relationship, and he reciprocated her respect, leaving her alone when she needed space, and behaving well so as to not cause her trouble (most of the time, at least). He treated her with more dignity than any person ever had.

Theirs was a bond that she had cultivated over many years, almost as long as Mister had been alive. She was better for it. It had saved her life.

Katelyn started to tear up, vision blurring. She closed her eyes, gently hugging Mister and listening to him purr, glad for be in the moment for the first time after their long separation.

"I was s-so, so stupid," she whimpered. "I'm s-sorry. Thank you. Thank you."

Katelyn didn't know what love really was, but she knew what it was for her. It was mutual understanding, trust, vulnerability, affection, respect. Everything she had with her cat, and nothing like anything she had with any other human. He was her most special and important friend, the one that made the world for her.

"DINNER TIME! ASH, KATELYN!"

The voice of her aunt cut through the air of her room, and took Katelyn out of the moment.

She blinked back to reality, Mr. Kitty sitting up on her chest and looking out the door.

With a sigh, she rubbed her cheek against Mr. Kitty one last time, before sitting up with her arms still wrapped around him, taking him with her back out of her room and down the stairs.

Whenever her cat was off on his own, exploring the house or sitting by the windowsill, Katelyn would find herself alone in her room, either laying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, or sitting at her desk, trying unproductively to force herself to write or draw anything at all. Right now she was doing the former, for lack of energy to do anything else. In these moments of solitude, she would often recall embarrassing events in her life, times when she said something wrong, made a poor decision, or hurt someone that she cared about. Remembering always made her cringe and want to retreat further into herself, hiding away from the world to avoid any further shame.

There was a metaphor about the perils of intimacy that Katelyn was particularly fond of, called the hedgehog's dilemma. It described a group of hedgehogs who wanted to huddle together for warmth, but would poke and stab each other with their spines when they tried. Despite wanting to be close to one another, their fundamental nature made that infeasible. The metaphor was meant to mirror real world relationships, and how humans couldn't be intimate without the risk of hurting each other.

Whenever she had tried to make friends, she had always ended up stabbed and bleeding for her effort. Somehow, she always managed to mess it up, and all of those worst moments played on repeat in her head again and again and again. It left her a coward, afraid of being hurt and doing harm. She couldn't help that her skin was so thin and sensitive, and her own spines so long and sharp. Even the people who had gotten close in spite of it all, Kai and Ren, were kept at a safe distance. She never allowed them past all of her walls, only some. Afraid that somehow they would hurt her, or be hurt by her.

It was easier to be alone, and stay inside. She couldn't make a fool of herself if she never left her bubble, because if no-one was around, then they couldn't see how much of a mess she truly was.

Katelyn's eyes traced patterns in her textured ceiling, and her mind inevitably drifted towards her many flaws. She always ended up hurting everyone around her, whether she intended to or not. She always jumped to conclusions, acting rashly before she had the chance to think everything through. She was spiteful, prone to bursts of anger that always left her regretting the aftermath. She never learned her lessons, always repeating the same mistakes over and over again. Everyone would be better off if she had died.

On reflex, she shook her head, closed her eyes, and clutched the sides of her face so hard that it hurt. Being alone was almost as hard as being around other people.

There was another metaphor she was fond of, though this one, to her knowledge, did not have a name, and she did not remember where she had first heard of it. It compared the mind to a garden, where ideas were plants. Plants that are tended well grow larger, and take up more of the garden. The same was true of ideas, the more you thought about something, the more prevalent it would become in your mind.

Katelyn's garden was overgrown with gnarled, thorny vines that choked the life out of everything else, ensnaring her and raking against her skin. They were an invasive species that grew from seeds of trauma and self-hatred, planted there for her by others. She hadn't known she needed to cut them down and pull them up by the roots when they were still small. Now, it was impossible to deal with them on her own, and when she was by herself, all she could think of was the pain of the thorns digging into her flesh.

Being alone kept her safe from hurting and being hurt even more, but it left her trapped, drowning in herself.

She needed someone else to help her, someone that wasn't paid to do so like her therapist.

With that thought, Katelyn pulled her phone out from under her pillow, tapping away at it until she came to her contacts.

Maybe she had found someone who could help..?

She pecked away at a text.

To: Robin
Message Text: "hey, last week was fun, do you want to get something to eat with me, maybe?"

Once, there was a cat with snow-white fur and piercing blue eyes that tried to run away from home. When she was found, nearly dead, she was brought back home, and left in a cage in her caretaker's backyard. Hers was a lonely existence; only her caretaker, and the occasional rabbit, squirrel, or fox ever visited her, and only from outside her cage. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt a gentle, loving touch and purred.

Each morning, her caretaker would come out and give her some food through a slot in the cage. The food was bland and unappetizing, but it kept her alive. Mixed inside the food was a tiny blue rock, one that she was expected to eat with her meal. The rocks tasted of bitter poison, but they made her feel better, if only just enough to be fine with living inside the cage.

One day, a little robin with a brilliant red belly fluttered down and sat upon the bars crisscrossing the sky above the white cat.

"You seem lonely in this cage," the robin tweeted. "Do you mind if I stay here and sing?"

"Are you not scared of my teeth and my claws?" the cat replied, confused. "Cats eat birds, you know."

"I know!" the robin chirped. "But your pristine white fur is so pretty, and you can't hurt me out here."

The cat was surprised, and a little taken aback, but nodded, and laid down on the bed of her cage to listen to his song. It filled the air around her with a vibrancy that she had never experienced before. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel alone, even if she was still in the cage. Then, in the distance, she heard the sounds of other birds singing, and the robin finished, spreading his wings as though to fly away.

"Wait," the cat said.

"Hrm?" the robin replied, delaying his takeoff.

"I liked your song," the cat mewed. "Could you stay a little longer?"

"Hm. No, I have to go," the robin answered. "But I can come back, tomorrow. Goodbye, for now!"

And then the robin took off into the sky. In the silence that followed his departure, the cat felt herself sink, doubting that the robin would come back like he said. However, to her surprise, he did come back the next day, exactly as he said he would. He sat atop her cage and sang for her again, and when he went to leave, she asked him to come back again the next day, and he did. This habit eventually became routine for them, and the robin's visits became the highlight of the cat's lonely days.

One afternoon, during a brief lull in the robin's singing, the cat asked something new of him.

"Could you slip inside this cage, and sit with me?" she mewled. "I'm so lonely in here, and you're small enough to fit between the bars."

The robin was quiet for a minute, and the cat began to fear that she had overstepped, and that he would not come back. However, to her surprise, he did as she asked, squeezing through the bars, and fluttering down to land atop her back, before nestling into her fur, and continuing his song. Despite their differences, he wasn't afraid of her, not even a little bit.

Feeling his warmth, and this closeness that she hadn't experienced in oh-so-long, for the first time in an age, the cat found herself purring.

For a season, she was happy like this. Their routine had changed, the robin no longer staying outside the cage, and instead slipping into it to be close to her. The cat felt understood, appreciated, and lonely no longer. The robin had become the center of her little universe, the only one that would get this close to her.

Unfortunately, over time, doubt began to set in. The cat noticed that whenever she could hear other birds singing in the distance, the robin would abruptly sit up, wiggle his way out of her cage, and leave without saying goodbye. At first, she was confused, but didn't mind, as she assumed that he was being called by his fellows and had to heed it. He had a life of his own outside her little cage, after all. It would be selfish of her to expect him to stay all the time just so she didn't feel so lonely. Though, as the pattern became clear to her, one day, while the robin was sat atop her and singing his song, the cat decided to ask him about it.

"Why do you always leave when you hear other birds?" she asked, innocently.

The robin abruptly went quiet, and sat up, before squeezing his way out of the cage and looking back at her, mournfully.

"Because," he responded, "you are a cat, and cats eat birds. The other birds don't like you, so I can't be seen with you, else they stop liking me, too."

His answer wounded her, like a dagger to her heart.

"You don't have to be afraid to be around me," she argued. "I'm sure they would understand if you explained. I'm a nice cat, and I don't eat birds."

The robin shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry, but they wouldn't. I might understand you, but they don't. You haven't heard what they say about you."

"But, could you at least try?" she asked, pitifully. "I thought you liked me."

"I do," the robin replied, "but not enough to risk losing all my friends."

His words crushed the cat's spirit. She shook, her hackles rising, and in her rage, she hissed at him.

"If you don't want them to know, then leave, and don't come back!"

The robin startled, and then, with a bit sadness in his gaze, he flew away, disappearing into the sky. From that day onward, he never came back to visit her.

For the cat, everything returned to how it had been before, with her trapped in her cage, alone. For a little while, she convinced herself she was okay with it, because she had been okay with it before, but as winter arrived and the world grew cold, she had to admit to herself that she missed the robin's song and his warmth. Now that she had gotten a taste of companionship, being trapped in her cage no longer felt okay. A void had opened up inside her chest, and even the little blue rocks couldn't make her feel any better anymore.

One day, wallowing in her misery as she was, the cat got the idea to not eat the blue rocks with her daily meal, and instead hide them away, one by one. Then, once she had a sizable pile, she ate every single one all at once, in the hopes that it would make the pain in her heart and mind go away.

After a little while, the cat began to feel sick and weak, so she curled up in the corner of her cage, and drifted off to sleep.

Katelyn laid on the side of a hill, her back pressed into the foot of a tree, staring up and into a hole in the forest canopy, watching birds flitting through the cloudy blue sky above. It was a rare kind of April day in Massachusetts, one where she could actually see the sky through the cloud cover. Wind rustled through the leaves and branches of the trees lining the trail, one that Katelyn had hiked more times than she could remember. She breathed a long sigh out, and pressed the back of her head into the rough bark of the tree, blinking slowly, sleepily.

Being out in nature like this was Katelyn's happy place, free of the expectations of others and the doldrums of daily life, she could always rely on the wild to clear her head. It was too bad that her family wouldn't let her wander out on her own. She always had to have a friend with her, else she'd end up being picked up by the police, shamed and treated like a criminal despite not breaking a single law. All that drama, because they didn't trust her not to hurt herself when she was unsupervised. She had only managed to sneak out today by lying and saying she was going to hang out with Kai. For once, they didn't bother to call him to confirm.

Stupid rules.

Katelyn looked down from the sky, to the bare skin of her legs and forearms. For once, she hadn't worn any of her normal clothes when she went out. She still had a headband with cat ears on it of course, because she couldn't help but be on-brand, but she had left her jacket and leggings at home. Instead, all she wore was a black pair of shorts and an accompanying tank-top, leaving most of her skin and the scars that she always tried to hide exposed for all to see.

Every scar had a story. A cooking accident. A bad night. An even worse morning. The oldest, most faded ones that dotted her skin testified to the worst day of her life. None of them were new, and she couldn't remember a time in her life when that was true. It had been a year since she had last hurt herself. The night in question had been traumatic for everyone in her life, but for Katelyn, it was like a switch had been flipped. No longer did she have any desire to self-harm, and it hadn't even been necessary for her to fight the urge. Of course, it was hard for anyone else to believe a girl covered in scars and with two suicide attempts under her belt when she says she meant no harm to herself anymore.

Katelyn supposed she couldn't blame them for being skeptical. She still hated herself, for a lot of good reasons, and she often made that known to her friends. She also couldn't shake the belief that everyone else would be better off if she was dead, but the voice telling her that was, at least for now, small and weak. She could easily ignore and suppress it, so long as nothing even more catastrophic than her breakup with Robin happened.

She curled into herself, forming a tight little ball, her thoughts drifting back to her ex.

Stupid Robin.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had him to thank for her breakthrough. He had broken her heart and almost killed her, but she still persisted, and she had stitched herself back together in the aftermath, leaving her stronger and more resilient than ever before. She didn't need to hurt and punish herself anymore, because Robin had taught her that she deserved better than that.

What left her perplexed were instead her lingering feelings.

He loved her. She knew that he did, all the way up to when she broke up with him. He probably still loved her, even if she didn't want to see him again. So why had he behaved the way he did? This she knew, at least, because he had made it abundantly clear that he loved himself far more than he loved her. He was all take, and very little give. She loved him more than she loved herself, and afterwards she felt like nothing more than a fool who had been duped, like she should've known that was how it would've turned out from the very start. In the end, all she had been left with was feeling as though she couldn't trust herself.

Katelyn uncurled, and leaned back against the tree, staring once more into the sky.

It was painful to not be able to trust your own heart, because you had allowed it to lead you astray, and ended up hurt. She might've pulled herself back together stronger than before, but she also found herself colder and more distant than ever before. Unable to trust her own instincts about who deserved her love, she had instead found comfort in putting up walls and hiding herself away. It was safer to not let anyone in, because what was to stop everyone else from being like Robin? For all she knew, even her very best friend could stab her in the back the second she turned around.

She had heard it said once that a bad relationship ending was bittersweet, but all she found herself tasting was the bitterness.

Absentmindedly, she reached into her pocket to get out her phone. Maybe she should give Kai a call.

Colder and more closed-off she may be, but being left alone to her own devices for too long was still never good for her.

Katelyn stepped inside the funeral parlor, dressed head-to-toe in fine, all-black attire. She recalled this place vividly; it was impossible for her to forget it. Its ornate red carpet, its golden, floral wallpaper, and its musty, sickly-sweet smell were all just as she remembered them. This old and worn mortuary was where her parents' funeral had been held. The graveyard down the road was where they had been laid to rest. She had forgotten the faces and names of the estranged relatives who had attended, but she distinctly remembered all the tears.

An eerie white fog had settled over the venue, sometime before she entered, obscuring the casket from where she stood at the entrance. The atmosphere was made no less unnerving by being totally silent. Staring up and down the rows and rows of empty velvet benches, Katelyn realized that she was the only one present. Swallowing her anxiety, she stepped forward, making her way to the back of the parlor, stopping abruptly as she recognized a figure in the fog.

The figure sat stock-still at the front row, stooped over, yet Katelyn could still tell that they were eerily tall and thin. Their body and face alike were obscured by a thick, black, hooded cloak that ran all the way to the floor. Clutched between their two pale hands was an old, weathered scythe, gleaming despite the fog.

"H-Hello?" Katelyn asked after a long silence, but the hooded figure did not respond, or move an inch.

Katelyn cautiously continued her forward movement, making her way past the figure and to the open casket, trying to make out who was inside. Dread washed over her as it came into view and she froze in place, her body begging her to stop, as though the mere act of looking would spell her doom. Despite her fear, she forced herself to keep going, feeling compelled to look by forces out of her control. Once she finally saw what laid within, a surge of terror rocked her to her very core.

Inside the coffin, Katelyn was greeted by her own face.

She gasped, startled, stumbling back as though her own visage would leap out to attack her at any moment. Covering her mouth with her hands, Katelyn stared in horror, taking in the fact that it was her, it was really her inside the casket. Turning back to face the figure, their face now half-visible from this new angle. Connection finally formed between their appearance, the location, and the body behind her.

"Is th-this... am I- am I dead?" Katelyn choked out.

"No," the figure answered, to Katelyn's surprise, their voice high, soft, and sweet. "Not yet."

Katelyn took a deep breath, calming herself. The figure gestured towards the coffin with one hand.

"Take a look," they said.

In response, Katelyn turned back to face the coffin, approaching it once more with trepidation.

The face--HER face--looked so peaceful, as though she was merely asleep. Her own face with her eyes closed wasn't something Katelyn had ever seen before. She had a fairly wild imagination, but this wasn't something she had ever thought of or about. It all felt far too real, to the point of being surreal.

Gingerly, as though handling a venomous snake, Katelyn reached into the coffin, touching her own cheek, before abruptly yanking her hand back on contact. Her skin was cold, freezing cold, feeling more like winter's snow than human flesh. She turned back to face the figure once more.

"W-Who are you?" she worked up the courage to ask.

The figure finally looked up at her, showing their face in full. It was a woman's face, her features soft and round, unrecognizable, yet somehow familiar to Katelyn. Her skin was painted delicately to look like a skull, white with sunken eyes, yet also decorated with brightly colored floral patterns. It matched the kind of face paint that Katelyn would sometimes see on the Day of the Dead.

"An old friend," the woman responded, smiling softly, her gaze tender.

"W-Why are you here?" Katelyn asked, relaxing only a little.

"To pay my respects," the woman answered, her words warm and comforting like a soft blanket.

"Why am I here?"

"As a warning," the woman replied, solemnly.

Katelyn's eyes went wide, and she took a step back.

"A-Am... am I going to d-die, soon?"

The woman looked at her, answering only with a soft, sad smile.

Katelyn's breathing picked up, her panic returning tenfold.

"T- Tell me. Pl-Please! E-Even if I can't st-stop it, I- I want to know. How. When."

The woman did not answer.

"Please," Katelyn begged, starting to cry.

"I'm sorry," the woman finally said. "I can't, even though I want to. There's nothing either of us can do, but you don't have to be afraid..."

She rested the scythe against the bench and stood up, revealing her true height, towering over Katelyn. She stepped forward, reaching down towards her. Squealing, Katelyn turned to run, only to be scooped up and into the woman's arms.

At first, Katelyn struggled and pushed away, only to realize that the woman was not fighting her escape. If Katelyn wanted, she could get down at any time, but the woman's hold on her was gentle, maternal, comforting, and most of all, warm. It brought Katelyn back to her early childhood, and the way her mother would hold her when she was upset.

So Katelyn stopped fighting, and allowed the woman to hold her, eventually leaning into the woman's chest as she cradled her, placidly running her fingers through Katelyn's hair. Katelyn relaxed, and then despaired, beginning to cry in earnest, and burying her face in the woman's cloak.

"It's okay," she cooed. "Let it all out."

And so Katelyn did, sobbing profusely as the woman comforted her, until she eventually had no more tears left to shed. Face red and eyes puffy, she turned up to look at the woman's own face, staring down at her just as tenderly as she had from the moment their eyes first met.

"C-Can I-" Katelyn stammered, hoarse from her crying. "C-Can I at l-least know where I'm g-going to go, after?"

The woman opened her mouth to answer, only for a sudden banging to interrupt her and thrust Katelyn back into the waking world.

---

Katelyn shot awake, abruptly sitting up, Mr. Kitty already up and alert from right next to her on her bed. Her sister's voice, muffled by her door, echoed from the hallway outside her room.

"Kitty, are you still in bed? We need to leave. We're going to be late for the trip."

The trip, Katelyn remembered, the dream she just had already slipping from her mind. She must've overslept. Wouldn't be the first time her phone's alarm had decided not to go off, or the first time she had slept through it. Throwing her covers off of her, she jumped to her feet, Mr. Kitty following her off the bed and circling around her legs.

"Sorry!" Katelyn called out. "J-Just a second!"

She ran over to her dresser, quickly pulling out the clothes that she had picked out for the day. It was a good thing that she had packed the reset of her supplies the night before, in anticipation.

Suddenly, her body tensed as a bit of anxiety crept into her mind, the same intrusive thought that had almost kept her from going on the ski trip in the first place. She was a senior in high school, and it had been a few years since the last class had been kidnapped for Survival of the Fittest. Now was prime time for her to be taken.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to steady herself, reminding herself of the reasons that wouldn't happen. They had never kidnapped anyone in the middle of the year before, and even if they decided to break that tradition this year, there were still plenty of other trips going on at the same time. Even if those terrorists were still around, chances were almost non-existent that she would be one of the unlucky people to wind up being kidnapped by them.

Katelyn calmed, her body relaxing.

She would be fine.