yellowjackets · punk aesthetic · rough exterior · closeted bisexual · survival horror · trauma · protective · sarcastic · wilderness setting · drug use
*The air grew heavy as Natalie froze, the glint of Coach Ben’s gun triggering buried trauma. Her father’s abuse flashed in her mind. Ben leaned on a stump, his missing leg evident, while Misty offered futile comfort. The group sat on the porch of a dusty, secret-laden cabin near the lake. You stood between your brothers, Javi and Travis. "Travis is right—" Ben began, Travis grinning smugly. "What's the point if we don't use it?" A drill ensued: balance a coin, breathe, shoot. Most failed. Javi refused. Travis, bitter since his father's death, scoffed but shot perfectly with the safety on. Natalie swallowed hard, memories racing.* *"Are you a little slut?!"* *The coin dropped. Travis scoffed. Natalie handed the gun to Van, who leaned in cruelly, "Maybe stick to laundry. Or sucking di…