is above. I wrote this listeningwas very immersivewhile right here. It's the same peice thatwith have enough time to put that in)

"Carrying you here now, I feel grief in the same immensity I felt joy when I carried you home."

-an ancient Greek dog tomb

Or everything she believed in the past three months.

Her feet hit the ground like thunder. She's moving faster than she ever thought her legs could carry her.

Up on the hill, the radio buzzes to life with a song. An orchestra. The Holberg suite by Greig. Air, the song she song she heard the first day she met Thomas.

A chainsaw roars to life back up the hill, followed by Hoyt shouting.

"YES! YOU GET HER THOMAS! TEACH HER TO NEVER MESS WITH THE HEWITT FAMILY AGAIN!"

Even through the cacophony, she can still hear the familiar tune playing in the back of her head.

It plays along with her beating heart, pumping the blood to her flying limbs.

Behind her, she can hear the chainsaw start heading her way. But she's already made it to the tree boarder.

He's too slow. I'll be able to lose him here.

She thinks hopefully. But avoiding the low hanging tree branches and roots proved difficult. After only a few seconds, Thomas has reached the tree boarder behind her.

She ducks, throwing herself through a bush. Spider webs find their way around her bare legs, but bugs are the last thing in her mind at the moment.

She looks behind her, seeing Thomas swing the chainsaw down on a group of branches. He's clearing a path for himself, fast.

Fuck fuck fuck

She keeps running, clearing the trees and hitting the road. There's not a car in sight, so she follows it down.

Screams burst from the trees as Thomas clears them as well. He's shouting and spinning his chainsaw around like a maniac. A whine of terror escapes y/n's lips as she runs faster, ignoring the pained fatigue biting at her muscles.

The smell of pine and mud are in the air. And a hint of. . . Meat?

Coming into view is the meat factory. Unable to keep running, she jumps inside.

Her eyes frantically search the room for something to block the door. Anything!

A peice of wood! It sits in the corner. She grabs it, pushing it through the slots on the door.

THUNK

"UAAAAAAGHHHHH"

Thomas screams behind the door, pounding against it.

Y/n doesn't stand around waiting for him to find another way in, she looks for a place to hide.

She opens another door, leading to where Thomas was cutting meat the first day they met. It still reeks of meat and blood. She stiffles a gag, going up a set of stairs.

Lockers. Row after row of lockers. And hooks, meat still hanging from many.

She struggles to open every single one in a row, but they're all locked.

"Come on!"

CRASH

Something downstairs breaks.

Thomas found a way in.

Shitshitshit

She dives into the meat hooks, concealing herself in the forest of raw beef.

Heavy footsteps walk up the stairs, the chainsaw still growling beside him.

As she tries to calm her breathing, her thoughts race.

What is he gonna do if he catches her? Is he gonna kill her? Will they eat her?

She fights the hot tears of fear as Thomas slams on every single locker.

Finally, she hears him freeze at the meat hooks. She gulps.

He starts pushing his say through, and as quietly as possible, y/n slips through to run for the exit.

But she's not stealthy enough. Thomas must've seen the meat swinging in the corner of his eye, because he pounces in her direction.

With a blood curdling scream, she sprints for the door, pushing meat out of her way.

The door slams open, she runs down the stairs, but misses a step and starts tumbling down. She lands on the dirt floor with a pained cry.

Thomas steps in the top of the stairs, looking down at her. She screams again, rising and running for the front door.

It's broken in, wood shards all over the floor. She jumps through the hole, running again through the street.

Thomas pursues. There's another stretch of trees in front of them. Will she be able to loose him in there?

But she never makes it.

She collapses to the dirt, a sharp pain in her ankle. She yelps, before looking down at the bloody, tangled mess behind her.

Her foot is caught in a bear trap, bleeding and bent from her fall.

The tears she fought to keep away now burst through, pooling down her face as she sobs.

Thomas comes back in view, running to her. She watches helplessly as he finally reaches her.

But instead of bringing the chainsaw down, he stops. She looks up at him through teary eyes, and he looks down at her. The mask she made for him conceals much of his face, but she can see his eyes.

They're crying.

"Thomas. . .Thomas PLEASE!"

He shakes his head, raising his chainsaw up above his head. Y/n throws her head back and screams, wrecking her throat so bad she probably wouldn't be able to talk for a week.

But that doesn't matter. None of it matters. Because Thomas swings the chainsaw down, crushing through her bones, skin, and veins.

Y/n's bleeding, pulpy mess of a body in his arms. Her eyes are open, staring up at his in an eternal look of fear and betrayal.

She cannot hear it, so his screams and sobs fall upon nobody but the daunting forest.

He sobs with pure agony, none he's ever felt before. Bullet wounds, knife wounds, none would ever hurt as much as the one he suffered now.

And when he would exit the forest, and the house would be in sight, nobody would be able to understand. Nobody would feel for him.

They'd put him in the car, and drive him to who knows where.

It didn't matter anymore, because y/n was no longer with him.

The end of the trees is in sight, as well as the house. Hoyt waves over to him, but he doesn't head in that direction. Instead, he goes to the back of the house.

Where he will bury Y/n in the pale light of the moon. So similar to the one on the night of the festival. If he closes his eyes, he can still smell the popcorn. He can still feel Y/n's body pressed against his chest, heart beating.

AN: thanks so much for reading and commenting you guys. It was really fun writing this, although I was feeling burnt out those last few chapters. I can't remember the last time I actually finished writing something, so even if I'm not so happy with the end result, it's still a small victory.