𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. what a devastating turn of events

THE MORNING LIGHT FILTERED IN THROUGH the high, narrow window of the storage room, its beams weak and diffused by the smudges of grime that had built up over years of neglect. It illuminated the cramped space in muted shades of gray and gold, casting faint shadows over the scattered equipment — deflated balls, a jumble of jump ropes, and boxes of dusty athletic tape that had been forgotten long before the world had ended.

The light might have seemed serene in another time, a promise of a new day, but here it only served as a reminder of their entrapment.

The room smelled like wet fabric and despair, a pungent combination of rain-soaked clothes that had clung to their skin through the night, mingling with the acrid undertone of fear-sweat and something faintly metallic, like the edge of a blade. Every breath they took seemed to draw that scent deeper into their lungs, making the air feel heavier, denser, as if it had congealed around them.

None of them had slept.

Wendy sat on the floor, her back pressed against a cold metal shelf. Her knees were drawn up, and her arms rested limply over them, her fingers twitching now and then in restless energy. She hadn't even tried to close her eyes, not really. Sleep felt impossible with the weight of everything pressing down on her chest.

She had spent the hours listening — to the faint patter of the receding rain, to the near-silence in the gym beyond the door, and to the hollow, broken sounds of Enzo's weeping.

And they had tried to comfort him, but he didn't pay them any mind.

When she finally looked over at him, he was a shell of the person she had known just hours ago. His face was gaunt, his eyes swollen and red-rimmed, yet sunken into his pale, ghostlike face. His body sagged where he sat, his shoulders curved inward as if the weight of his grief was too much to bear. His clothes clung to him, damp and wrinkled, the edges of his sleeves stained with dirt and rain.

It was his voice that broke the silence, raw and uneven, cutting through the heavy air like a jagged blade. "I thought about it all night."

The sound startled Wendy, though she didn't react outwardly. She turned her head toward him slowly, her face blank but her mind racing. He hadn't spoken in hours, not since his cries had dwindled into hoarse, breathless sobs in the dead of night. Now, his words carried a weight that made the air feel even heavier, each syllable laden with pain.

"What do I do?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was steady enough to carry across the room. He coughed then, a dry, raspy sound that made Wendy flinch inwardly. No one answered. "How do I go on living?" His voice cracked, and for a moment, it seemed as if fresh tears might come, but his eyes remained dry, wide, and empty. He stared at the floor as if the answer might be etched into the scuffed linoleum.

The silence stretched between them like a chasm, vast and unbridgeable. Wendy didn't know what to say. What could she say? Her mind was still tangled with her own fears, her own guilt. She didn't have answers for him, not now.

Enzo lifted his gaze, his red-rimmed eyes meeting hers. There was something almost accusatory in the way he looked at her, as if he was daring her to respond, to give him some kind of hope. But before she could even form a thought, he spoke again.

"We're trapped now," he said, his voice low but firm. There was a finality to his words, an edge of resignation that made Wendy's stomach churn. "This time for real. There's no way out."

Jade, who had been silent until now, shifted slightly. Her voice was soft, hesitant, as she said, "Don't say that."

But Enzo shook his head, his movements slow and deliberate, his voice rising in pitch as he replied, "There's no way."

Wendy straightened her spine, her muscles stiff and aching from the night's vigil. She refused to let his words settle in the air like a truth. Her mind was already working, turning over possibilities, clinging to the faintest threads of hope.

There was always a way. There had to be.

The storage room felt like it was shrinking around them, the walls pressing closer with every passing second. Wendy's eyes darted around, taking in every detail — the high window, the metal shelves, the cluttered floor. Her brain cataloged everything, searching for something, anything, that could be of use.

The light shifted as the sun climbed higher, casting longer shadows across the room. Wendy's gaze lingered on the window for a moment, the faint glimmer of light stirring something deep within her — a spark of determination, a refusal to give in.

"We'll find a way," she thought, her jaw tightening. Even if it meant tearing the world apart piece by piece, she would find a way. They weren't going to die here. Not like this.

Her eyes returned to Enzo, who still sat slumped against the wall, his shoulders trembling slightly. He looked utterly defeated, and for the first time, Wendy felt a pang of something deeper than frustration. She saw him not as the stubborn, sometimes abrasive person she had clashed with, but as someone utterly broken, drowning in his grief.

Wendy pushed herself to her feet, the ache in her legs and back reminding her of how long she'd been still. She couldn't sit there anymore. Doing nothing felt worse than the fear of what lay ahead.

Her eyes scanned the room, lingering on the narrow, high-set window. The glass was cloudy with age, smudged and streaked by the relentless rain from the night before. It wasn't large, perhaps no more than two feet wide, but it let in enough light to illuminate the room's cluttered contents. Wendy squinted at it, the gears in her mind turning.

That's our way out, she thought, her breath catching in her throat.

The window wouldn't be easy to reach; it was set high in the wall, well above her head. The thought of the climb made her stomach tighten. And even if they managed to stack enough objects to get up there, there was no guarantee it would be wide enough for all three of them to squeeze through. Wendy pressed her lips into a thin line, her jaw clenching as she fought off the rising tide of doubt.

She moved toward the nearest shelf, her boots scraping softly against the linoleum floor. The sound was small but amplified in the room's tense silence. Wendy ran her hand along the edge of the shelf, testing its sturdiness. The metal felt solid under her palm, though it was bolted to the wall and wouldn't budge easily. Her eyes shifted to the boxes stacked beneath it — weathered cardboard, some bulging with age, their contents spilling out in places.

Behind her, Enzo and Jade sat in their respective corners, the weight of exhaustion and despair visible in every line of their bodies. Wendy glanced at them briefly before turning her attention back to the room, her movements deliberate as she assessed their options.

There were gym mats leaning against the far wall, their vinyl surfaces faded and cracked but still intact. Nearby, she spotted a pommel horse, its leather top worn but its frame appearing solid. Wendy began to mentally piece together a plan, her focus narrowing on the idea of stacking what they could to reach the window.

"Jade," Wendy said, her voice quiet but firm. The other girl's head snapped up, her eyes wide with the sudden break in silence.

Wendy didn't wait for her to respond. She gestured toward the window. "We can get out that way, but we'll need to stack things. Help me check if it's even possible."

Jade nodded, pushing herself up and crossing the room to join Wendy. Enzo didn't move, his head bowed, his shoulders hunched inward like he was trying to fold himself out of existence.

Wendy didn't have the patience for him right now.

She and Jade began moving the lighter objects first, dragging mats and boxes toward the wall beneath the window. The noise they made was unavoidable — soft thuds and the occasional scrape of metal against linoleum. Every sound sent a jolt of adrenaline through Wendy, her ears straining for the telltale groans or shuffling footsteps from the gym. But the only noise was the faint hum of silence beyond the door.

When they'd cleared enough space, Wendy inspected the pommel horse. It was heavier than it looked, its steel legs resistant as she tried to budge it. Jade joined her, the two of them heaving until it finally shifted, its rubber feet squealing against the floor. They maneuvered it into position, directly under the window, and stepped back to assess their work.

The makeshift structure looked precarious at best — a base of gym mats topped with the pommel horse, with a few stacked boxes providing additional height. Wendy wiped the sweat from her brow, her hand coming away damp and gritty.

"It'll have to do," she muttered under her breath.

The window itself was the next concern. Wendy frowned, studying it. The frame was narrow, and though it looked like it could be pried open, the real question was whether it would be wide enough for all of them. Wendy's stomach churned at the thought of someone getting stuck, trapped halfway while the others were forced to watch helplessly.

"We'll need to check," Wendy said, turning to Jade. "You're the smallest. We'll boost you up, and you can see if it'll work."

Jade hesitated, her eyes darting toward the door as if she could see through it to the horrors beyond. But then she nodded, her jaw tightening in determination.

Wendy and Enzo moved into position, though Enzo did so sluggishly, his movements stiff and reluctant. Together, they crouched near the base of the makeshift tower, forming a brace with their hands to lift Jade. She stepped into their grip, her hands gripping their shoulders as they hoisted her upward.

The effort was awkward, their coordination clumsy, but they managed to lift her high enough to grab the edge of the window frame. Jade grunted as she pulled herself up, her feet scrabbling against the pommel horse for leverage.

For a moment, she disappeared from view, her head and shoulders rising above the frame. Wendy and Enzo craned their necks to watch as Jade inspected the window, her fingers prying at the edges.

"It opens," Jade whispered, her voice barely audible. She shifted her weight, testing the frame. "I think I can fit through."

Relief flooded Wendy, though it was short-lived. She knew this was only the first step.

"We'll take turns," Wendy said, her voice low and steady. "But someone will need to distract them. The noise will draw the geeks to the door."

Jade glanced down at her, her eyes wide with understanding.

"I'll go first," Jade said. "I'll make the noise. You two get out."

Wendy hesitated, her instincts warring with logic. It made sense — Jade was smaller, faster, and would have the best chance of evading the geeks if something went wrong. But the thought of letting her go alone, even for a moment, made Wendy's chest tighten.

Before she could argue, Jade was already moving, dropping down from the window with surprising agility. She landed in a crouch, her expression resolute as she turned toward the door.

"Be ready," Jade said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Wendy and Enzo scrambled into position, preparing to climb the makeshift tower. Wendy's heart pounded in her chest, her hands slick with sweat as she gripped the edge of the pommel horse.

The storage room seemed to hold its breath as Jade moved to the door. She hesitated for only a moment before yanking it open, the hinges groaning loudly in the stillness.

The sound of groans erupted from the gym, a chorus of guttural hunger that made Wendy's blood run cold. She caught a glimpse of the mass of geeks, their grotesque forms shifting and shambling toward the source of the noise.

Jade bolted, her footsteps echoing as she darted into the gym, weaving through the horde with practiced agility.

The window led to the open courtyard, a space fenced off by the school's barrier. The world outside was muted, a stillness broken only by the soft shuffle of geeks. The air was damp, not from rain but from the lingering mist of early morning. The trio moved methodically, their breaths controlled, the silence between them heavy.

Jade was the fastest and the one carrying the spear, her movements already sharp and prepared for what lay outside. She swung one leg over the windowsill, her breath controlled despite the fear flickering in her eyes. Wendy and Enzo watched as she dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch with feline precision.

Jade didn't look back. She tightened her grip on the spear and moved forward, intentionally knocking against a loose metal trash can. The sound was loud, metallic, reverberating through the courtyard. It did what it was meant to: the geeks turned, their movements sluggish at first, before lurching toward her.

"Go." Wendy hissed to Enzo, her voice low but firm. Wendy couldn't spare a glance for long. She focused on Enzo, her hands steadying his legs as he hauled himself through the narrow opening. The pommel horse beneath her creaked ominously with each shift of weight, the structure wobbling slightly. Her stomach clenched, fear knotting her insides as she willed it to hold for just a few more seconds.

He landed on the other side with a soft grunt, immediately crouching low, his knife drawn. Wendy followed next, her movements quick but deliberate, her bow slung over her shoulder and her quiver of arrows clinking faintly as she slipped through the opening.

By the time her feet touched the ground, Jade had already taken out two geeks, her spear thrusting cleanly through their skulls. But there were more — too many — and the sound of their groans grew louder. Wendy motioned to Enzo, and together they kept low, moving along the side of the building to a safer position.

Jade didn't follow. She stood her ground, her spear swinging in wide arcs, its sharp edge cutting through decayed flesh. For every geek she took down, another seemed to appear, their grotesque faces illuminated by the soft morning light. She was fast, her movements almost elegant, but there was a recklessness to her strikes, a determination that bordered on self-destruction.

Jade's figure darted and wove through the shadows, her spear flashing with each precise thrust. The weapon gleamed faintly, slick with the dark, clotted remnants of her work. Each movement was a blur of purpose, her body twisting and pivoting with practiced efficiency. Geeks dropped in her wake, their guttural moans silenced by the sharp crack of bone or the wet sound of flesh giving way.

Wendy crouched behind a low stack of crates, her fingers gripping her bow as she watched the scene unfold. Her chest tightened as she saw Jade step further into the courtyard, drawing the geeks away from their path. Enzo was beside her, his face pale, his breaths coming in short bursts. He shifted his weight, as if preparing to run to Jade, but Wendy grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the growls and groans.

Jade thrust her spear into another geek, its body crumpling to the ground. She was holding them back, buying them precious moments. Wendy nocked an arrow, her movements practiced and precise, and began picking off the geeks closest to Jade. Each shot found its mark, but it wasn't enough. The swarm kept coming.

"Move!" Wendy barked, pulling Enzo toward the fence line. He hesitated but followed, his knife slashing at a geek that had stumbled too close. They were almost there — almost free. Wendy turned back, her eyes scanning for Jade, and her stomach dropped.

Jade was still fighting, but she was slowing down. Her strikes were sloppier, her breathing heavier. A geek lunged at her, and she managed to dodge, but she stumbled, her foot catching on uneven ground. She recovered quickly, jamming her spear into its head, but the stumble had cost her.

Wendy's shot found its mark — a lanky geek whose mouth hung open in a grotesque snarl. The arrow buried itself in the soft flesh just above its eye, the force knocking the creature backward into the shambling crowd behind it. Wendy didn't hesitate, already lining up her next shot. The movements were instinctive, each release of the bowstring accompanied by the sharp twang that reverberated in the small space.

The crowd of geeks seemed thinner now, their numbers dwindling in the immediate area. Wendy felt a flicker of hope — an unfamiliar and dangerous emotion in times like these.

Wendy froze as the next moment unfolded in a blur. A geek grabbed Jade from behind, its rotting teeth sinking into her shoulder.

Jade screamed — a sound that pierced through the courtyard and sent Wendy's heart plummeting.

The girl stood frozen, her body rigid with pain and terror. A geek loomed beside her, its jaws latched onto her shoulder, its teeth sinking deep into her flesh. Blood seeped from the wound, dark and glistening, staining the tattered fabric of Jade's shirt.

For a heartbeat, Wendy couldn't move.

Then instinct took over.

Her hands worked the bowstring, the movement mechanical and desperate as she notched an arrow and drew it back. The string bit into her fingers, but she barely noticed, her vision tunneling on the grotesque tableau before her. Jade's face twisted in agony, her spear falling from her grasp as she staggered under the weight of the geek.

The arrow flew.

It struck true, embedding itself in the side of the geek's skull with a sickening crunch. The creature's jaws went slack, its body collapsing to the floor. But it was too late. Jade crumpled with it, her knees buckling as she fell into the spreading pool of her own blood.

Wendy's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she lowered her bow. Her hands trembled, the bow slipping from her grip and clattering to the floor. Tears blurred her vision, hot and relentless as they spilled down her cheeks. She staggered forward, her legs unsteady beneath her, but a sharp intake of breath from behind stopped her cold.

Enzo followed, his movements stiff and disbelieving. His eyes darted between Jade and the body of the geek Wendy had shot, and then he saw it. His breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

The geek lying dead at Jade's side — its lifeless, decayed face — was his mother.

Her decayed features were still recognizable, her hollow eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. Wendy's stomach turned as she stumbled backward, her mind reeling with the weight of what she had done.

Enzo's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he moved toward Jade. He dropped to his knees beside her, his movements frantic as he pressed his hands against the wound on her shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and slick, staining the floor beneath them.

Wendy sank to her knees on Jade's other side, her hands hovering uselessly as she struggled to think, to act, to do something. But there was nothing to be done.

Jade's breaths came shallow and uneven, her chest rising and falling in rapid, stuttering movements. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, her lips trembling as she tried to speak.

The air was heavy with the weight of grief, the silence punctuated only by the faint, wet sounds of Jade's labored breathing. Wendy's tears fell freely now, her chest aching with the effort of holding back a sob.

Enzo stumbled back, his hands clutching at his hair as his knees gave out beneath him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Wendy barely noticed. Her focus was on Jade, whose breaths were shallow, her eyes fluttering open and closed.

The air seemed to still as Wendy cradled Jade in her arms. Time felt elastic, stretching and curling around them like the soft tendrils of the morning light slipping through the trees. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the earth's damp scent, but Wendy couldn't focus on anything except Jade's pale face, her lips tinged with blue.

Jade's laughter, quiet and broken, fluttered through the stillness, a sound at odds with the sharp reality of her wound. Wendy's tears dripped silently onto her skin, trailing down the curve of her neck and mingling with the dark crimson that seeped through her shirt. The rhythm of her breaths grew uneven, each inhale shuddering like a leaf caught in the wind, and her gaze flickered upward, searching the sky.

The blue above was endless, unmarred by clouds, the kind of sky that invited you to get lost in its expanse. Jade's eyes, dulled but still curious, followed the soft arcs of birds in flight, their wings slicing through the day with ease. A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Do you remember," she murmured, her voice fragile, "when I used to say I wasn't afraid of dying?"

The words tumbled out like a secret finally spoken aloud. Wendy's hands tightened around Jade's, her grip both tender and desperate. Her lips parted to respond, but no sound came. She nodded instead, the motion jerky, her throat too constricted to allow speech.

"You'd say it every time you left the room," she finally managed, her voice trembling under the weight of grief.

Jade chuckled, a sound both soft and brittle, like the cracking of ice beneath cautious steps. Her fingers, cold and trembling, curled weakly around Wendy's hand. "Well," she whispered, her eyes fixed on the bright expanse of the sky, "I think I'm finally scared."

Wendy wanted to say something — anything — to soothe her, to chase away the fear lingering in her final moments, but the words tangled in her throat, unspoken and heavy. Instead, she leaned closer, her tears falling unchecked, her forehead pressing gently to Jade's.

Jade's body began to slacken, her breaths coming slower now, like the ebb of a tide retreating from the shore. Wendy felt it — the subtle shift, the loosening of the tether that held Jade to the world. The light in her eyes dimmed, but her smile remained, faint and peaceful, even as her fingers slipped from Wendy's grasp.

Nearby, Enzo knelt in the dirt, his shoulders hunched and shaking as he held his mother's lifeless body. His face was hidden, pressed against the ragged fabric of her shirt, but his sobs were silent, swallowed by the weight of his grief. Wendy could hear the faint rustle of his movements, but she couldn't look away from Jade, not yet.

The sun continued its slow ascent, its rays breaking through the canopy and washing the clearing in warm light. The golden hue seemed to settle on Jade's face, softening the lines of pain etched there, casting her features in a gentle glow.

And then, it happened. The last flicker of light in her eyes gave way to stillness. The faint rise and fall of her chest stilled completely, and the fragile warmth of her skin began to fade. Wendy sat frozen, her arms tightening around Jade's lifeless form as the reality of her loss crashed over her.

A breeze stirred the leaves overhead, carrying with it the faint hum of life persisting beyond their grief. Wendy's gaze remained fixed on Jade's face, her mind replaying every moment, every laugh, every word, until they blurred together into an aching, bittersweet memory.

She was gone.

Wendy laid Jade down gently, her hands trembling as she brushed a strand of hair from her face. Her knees dug into the dirt as she leaned back, her head tilting toward the sky. The brightness of the day felt wrong, too vivid for a moment so stark with loss. She blinked, her vision blurring as fresh tears spilled over, streaking her cheeks and dampening her chin.

In the stillness that followed, Wendy finally turned her head toward Enzo. He hadn't moved, his form hunched and motionless, his grief a palpable weight in the air. The body in his arms was grotesque, the marks of decay and rot stark against the memory of who she had once been, but to Enzo, none of that mattered.

Wendy crawled toward him, her movements slow and hesitant, her heart aching with a fresh wave of pain. She reached out, her hand brushing his shoulder, but Enzo recoiled as if her touch had burned him. He pushed her hand off with a ferocity that startled her.

Before she could even register the anger that flashed across his face, he turned on her. His movements were sharp and wild, his grief twisting into something darker, harder.

"You," he spat, his voice raw and jagged, breaking on the word as he let go of his mother's lifeless body.

Wendy barely had time to react before he lunged, shoving her backward with a force that sent her sprawling into the dirt. Her elbows scraped against the rough ground, the impact jarring, and the air rushed out of her lungs. She gasped, trying to right herself, but Enzo was already on her.

His knife gleamed in the sunlight, and suddenly, it was at her throat. He hovered over her, his weight pinning her down, his breathing ragged and uneven. The blade trembled in his hand, catching the light in flashes that danced across Wendy's wide eyes.

The world narrowed to the cold steel pressing against her skin and the fury in Enzo's gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Her thoughts spiraled, tangling together in a mess of fear and guilt.

"You did this," he hissed, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. "This is your fault."

Wendy didn't fight him. She didn't try to reason with him or plead for her life. Instead, she lay still, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, her eyes fixed on his tear-streaked face. His rage was palpable, a living, breathing thing that hung heavy in the air between them.

Because he wasn't wrong.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing what little air she had left. She had taken the role of leader, thinking she could guide them, protect them, make the right choices. But she was just a kid, fumbling in the dark, grasping at straws.

And Jade had paid the price.

Her chest ached with the weight of her failure, the guilt clawing its way through her like a living thing. She didn't try to push Enzo away or plead for her life because, in that moment, she agreed with him. She deserved his anger. She deserved the blade at her throat.

Tears streamed down Enzo's face, dripping onto her skin like rain. His hand shook, the knife trembling against her neck. The anger in his eyes flickered, giving way to something deeper, more complex — grief, pain, confusion.

He pressed harder for a moment, and Wendy felt the sharp sting of the blade biting into her skin, a thin line of heat tracing her throat. Her breath hitched, but she didn't move. She didn't fight.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

Enzo let out a broken sound, half a sob, half a growl, and pulled the knife away. His hand fell limp at his side, the blade slipping from his grasp and landing in the dirt with a dull thud. He sat back, his shoulders heaving with the effort of breathing, his face twisted in anguish.

"I can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding in Wendy's ears. "I can't do it." Wendy didn't move. She stayed where she was, her body still pressed against the earth, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. Enzo buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled as he spoke. "If I did it... if I killed you... it'd be too easy for you. It'd let you off the hook."

His words cut deeper than the knife ever could. Wendy sat up slowly, her movements tentative, her hands trembling as she brushed the dirt from her palms. She didn't try to comfort him this time. She didn't reach out or offer empty words.

"I cannot punish you the way you'd punish yourself."

Wendy's hand moved to her neck, her fingers brushing over the thin line where the blade had pressed against her skin. It wasn't deep — barely more than a scratch — but it burned all the same.

Enzo rose abruptly, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as if his body was moving before his mind could catch up. He crossed the clearing to where Jade's spear lay on the ground, his hand curling around it with a sharp finality. The weapon looked out of place in his grasp, its edge still wet with blood.

Wendy watched him, her throat tight as she struggled to find words. She could feel the argument brewing, the unspoken tension between them simmering just beneath the surface. Enzo's jaw was clenched, his eyes distant, and she knew, with a sinking certainty, that he was about to do something irreversible.

"They noticed us," he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, gesturing toward the faint shapes of geeks emerging from the tree line.

Wendy turned, her heart pounding as she saw them. The distant figures moved with their signature shuffle, their groans carried faintly on the breeze. The fight must have drawn them, the noise carrying farther than she'd realized.

"Then we move," she said quickly, pushing herself to her feet. Her voice was steady, but inside, she was scrambling for a plan. "We'll head toward the school, find a —"

"No," Enzo interrupted, his voice sharp and final.

Wendy froze, staring at him in disbelief.

"No?" she echoed, her voice rising. "What do you mean, no?"

Enzo turned to her, his face pale but set with grim determination. "You're leaving," he said. "You're not coming back."

The words hit her like a physical blow, her chest tightening as the weight of them sank in. "What?" she managed, her voice barely a whisper.

"You heard me." His tone was cold, detached, but the flicker of anguish in his eyes betrayed him. "You're done here. Go. Find someplace else. This place — it's not yours anymore."

Wendy's hands clenched at her sides, anger flaring in her chest. "You don't get to decide that," she snapped. "We're in this together —"

"Were," Enzo shot back, cutting her off. "We were in this together. But you've done enough, Wendy. You've cost us enough."

"This isn't fair," she said finally, her voice trembling. "You think I don't know that I messed up? That I don't carry that every second? Jade —" Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. "Jade is dead because of me. I know that. But you can't just banish me."

Enzo's grip on the spear tightened, his knuckles white. "I can, and I am," he said. "You think I want to do this? You think I don't see what you've done for us? But it's not enough, Wendy. Not anymore. Jade's dead because of you. She trusted you, and you failed her. I'm not going to let you do the same to me."

Wendy's heart twisted at the words, her anger giving way to a crushing guilt. She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

"I'm staying," Enzo continued, his voice steady but tinged with bitterness. "I'm staying, and I'm going to rebuild. Fortify the school. Honor Jade's memory by making it safe. But you're not part of that anymore. You can't be."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument. Wendy's mind reeled, her thoughts a chaotic tangle of anger, grief, and desperation.

"You're making a mistake," she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. "You can't do this alone, Enzo. You're not ready —"

"I don't need you," he said, his voice sharp and cutting. "What I need is to rebuild. To make this place something Jade would've been proud of. And I can't do that with you here, poisoning everything."

The words hit like a slap, and Wendy staggered under the weight of them. Her throat tightened, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. "You think this is what she would've wanted?" she asked, her voice breaking. "For us to tear each other apart like this?"

Enzo laughed bitterly, the sound devoid of any humor. "I don't know what she would've wanted," he said. "She's not here to tell us, is she?"

Wendy opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The two of them stood there, the space between them charged with anger and grief, as the geeks drew closer. Their groans grew louder, a chilling backdrop to the argument that felt like it could splinter the world.

Wendy's shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. She wanted to keep arguing, to convince him that they needed each other, that they could still find a way to make this work. But deep down, she knew he wouldn't budge. His grief was too fresh, his anger too raw.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If that's what you want, I'll go."

Enzo nodded, his expression unreadable, and turned away. He took a few steps toward the geeks, his grip on the spear tightening. Wendy watched him, her heart heavy with a mixture of guilt and sorrow.

And then he did something that made her breath catch in her throat.

He screamed.

The sound was raw and guttural, a primal roar that echoed through the clearing and beyond. The geeks froze for a moment, their movements jerky and hesitant, before they turned toward him, their groans rising in intensity.

Enzo raised the spear, his body coiled and ready as he faced the horde. He didn't look back at Wendy, didn't say another word.

Wendy's feet felt rooted to the ground, her mind screaming at her to move, to run, but her heart hesitated. She wanted to stay, to fight alongside him, to prove that she could still be a part of this. But the look in his eyes, the determination, told her that this was his choice.

He was drawing them away — for her.

Her legs finally obeyed, carrying her toward the fence line. She moved quickly, her breaths coming in short bursts as she climbed over the barrier and disappeared into the trees beyond.

The sound of Enzo's shouts followed her, fading into the distance as she ran. And with every step, she felt the weight of her failure pressing down on her, the knowledge that she had lost not just Jade, but Enzo too.

The world beyond the clearing was quiet, but Wendy's thoughts were anything but. She kept moving, her steps heavy with grief, her heart a storm of regret and determination.

She didn't know where she was going or what would come next. But she knew one thing for certain: the weight of her choices would follow her, no matter how far she ran.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

i feel like i didn't write enough of jade and enzo for anyone to be sad about the departing and that's my fault but lowkey i always intended for them to not last long,

like literally i always had planned that wendy was going to leave.

and also bc i hate writing more than two or three original characters, especially with a show like this i can barely remember the canon characters names LMFAOOO

so yeah they were always destined to leave each other

the first idea was another group tried to take over the school and jade is killed by one of them but then wendy would have her vengeance arc and i have to save that for later.

and i thought another group coming in to take their shit was too s3-4 coded so i scraped that idea.

the second idea was that enzo was gonna betray wendy in some way and have jade as his pawn but i couldn't come up with anything or a reason why he'd do that in the first place.

this was the third idea, and i like it better because it shows wendy's guilt and her leadership role taking a toll on her. but don't worry, this is only s1 hehe

her character arc is gonna be super fun to write!!

which reminds me, the next ch will probably be the end of s1!! i always forget the cdc plot bc they literally never bring it up. ever. omg

and im really excited for s2 hehehehe

much love,