**Kitchen** You are eating breakfast alone. The table is bare except for your plate and coffee mug. Sunlight streams in through the back door, alighting on the empty chair across from you. A [[bathrobe]] is slung over the back of it. (set: $chain to false) (set: $check1 to 0) (set: $hug to false) (set: $tom to false) (if: $days is 0)[ (set: $days to 21) ] (if: $again is 1)[ (set: $days to 21) ] (if: $again is 2)[ (set: $days +=1) ]

The robe is off-white. Impossibly wrinkled. It hasn't been touched in [[weeks.->Three]]

Three weeks. $days days total. That's how long she's been gone. You didn't think she'd be found. Not after week two. If the search parties had yielded nothing by then... Well. You were wrong about that, at least. [[You found her.]]

**Forest, one week prior** You stand among the trees. They tower above you, crisp air snaking among the trunks and seeping into your skin. Tree branches tear gaping holes in the sky with claws stripped bare of leaves. The night is black, angry. The forest has never looked the same since she disappeared. You don't think it will ever look the same. The path splits ahead of you. You grip your flashlight, shining its beam in either direction. You can go [[north]] or [[east.]]

People always describe grief like a wave, or a mountain. Something huge and inescapable. That always made sense, emotions being what they are. Big and hazy and clutching. You never thought it would feel like this. Grief isn’t a wave. It isn’t a mountain or a hurricane or some disaster. It hasn’t torn at your lungs, it hasn’t burned your throat or turned your stomach to lead. It’s left you alone. Intact. Aching. And this is worse than anything you could have imagined. You [[keep walking.]]

**Forest path** The forest is home to many things. She always told you that, always pointed your gaze from the treetops down to the dirt, the invisible world decomposing and resurrecting beneath your feet. But the forest couldn’t have her. Not like this. [[You keep walking.]]

"Hey!" You turn. A woman is approaching you, flashlight in hand. You squint against the beam. "We've already been through this area," she says. Her voice softens. "We were going to head back. For the night." Your chest aches. [["Okay. Let's go."]] [["I'm going to look a little more."]]

You and the woman rejoin the rest of the search party, waiting at the forest's edge. There are quiet murmurs and gentle glances. You return home and go to bed. You'll [[try again->Breakfast]] tomorrow. (set: $again to 2)

The woman nods, understanding. "We'll wait a while longer. Come to the entrance when you're finished." You return to the forest clearing. Time to go [[east.]]

**Forest clearing** The air seems colder, here. Thinner. As you emerge from the thick of trees, your eyes fall on a curled form in the shadows. Your skin prickles. [["El?"]] [[Leave.]]

You walk forward. The moon casts the clearing into strips of light and shadow. Your flashlight beam trembles, edging toward the darkened form. It isn't too late to [[leave.->Leave.]] [[Get closer.]]

You feel suddenly panicked. Unsafe. You need to leave. You need to leave you need to leave youneedtoleave*youneedtoleave-* You rejoin the rest of the search party, waiting at the forest's edge. There are quiet murmurs and gentle glances. You return home and go to bed. You'll [[try again->Breakfast]] tomorrow. (set: $again to 2)

Your beam aligns as you step forward. It's a human. A body. You lean down. [[*El.*->El.]]

She doesn’t make a pretty corpse. You don't know why that's your first thought. It isn’t romantic of you to say, you can feel her tugging at your shoulder already. *You jerk, make some shit up. Talk about the way my hair looked in the moonlight. ‘Didn’t make a pretty corpse,’ my ass.* But she doesn’t. You're not sure anybody would. She's so different. Cold and hard, all scarlet edges and torn skin and bared teeth and wide eyes. You lock up when the beam alights on her face. Freeze. Puke, too. You aren't pretty either, you think dimly. *We have that in common.* [[Call for help.]] [[Look closer.]] [[Run.]]

**Present day** The investigation begins immediately. You're a suspect, of course, but few fingers point in your direction. The whole town can vouch for your character, for your relationship with El, for your alibi the night of her death. There is no clear suspect, according to the police. (if: $chain is true)[Nobody else sees the chain. Nobody else [[needs to.]]] (if: $chain is false)[You are [[anxious]] for news.]

You can examine her [[eyes]], [[mouth]], or [[stomach.]] You can [[call for help.->Call for help.]] (if: $hug is true)[You can also [[hug her.]]]

You run. You manage to collect yourself just before you leave. You inhale panicked lungfuls of air, leaning against the unyielding mass of a tree trunk. Bark digs into your spine. Your breaths steady. You wipe your eyes. Straighten. You imagined it. You must have. [[You're so tired.]]

You rejoin the search party at the edge of the forest. They see your red eyes, your shaking hands. There are quiet murmurs and gentle glances. You return home and go to bed. You never return to the forest. You [[tell no one.]]

They find her body a week later. The clearing is sectioned off with yellow tape, crawling with police and investigators. It's a small town. Reporters come to your door. You [[don't answer.]]

One day, there is another knock at your door. You look out the window. A squad car is parked in your driveway. You [[answer.]]

You are arrested. The police find your DNA at the scene, put the pieces together themselves. You killed her. *You killed her.* [[Confess.]] [[Don't.]]

The police don't get much out of you after that. Your mind feels blank. "Why did you do it?" You don't know. The town is in shock. You are in shock. It's the day before your trial. You are home. You have a gun in your mouth. [[BANG.->badend]]

You deny everything. You try to explain. "Where were you on the night of her death?" Home. Alone. "Why was your DNA at the scene?" You discovered her on a search. "When?" A week ago. "And you didn't *tell anyone?*" Why didn't you [[tell]] anyone?

You have died. Running can't solve every problem... [[Try again?->Breakfast]]

You don't know. You don't know. It is the day before your trial. There is no plea deal, no merciful sentence. You will receive life without parole, or death. You are home. Alone. You have a gun in your mouth. [[BANG.->badend]]

Her eyes are open. Cloudy brown irises stare past you. Your stomach clenches. (set: $check1 to $check1 + 1) (if: $check1 is 3)[ (set: $hug to true)] (if: $check1 is 3)[Your hands start to shake. You stare at her prone form.] [[Look elsewhere.->Look closer.]]

Blood coats her shirt. There's more than one wound, but you can't make out any details beneath the dried fluids. (set: $check1 to $check1 + 1) (if: $check1 is 3)[ (set: $hug to true)] (if: $check1 is 3)[Your hands start to shake. You stare at her prone form.] [[Look elsewhere.->Look closer.]]

She has a chain in her pocket. Not quite a necklace, too rough and too crude to be called jewelry. You pull it out, look at it closely. You know who this belongs to. You should [[tell->Call for help.]] the rest of the search party that you've found her. (set: $chain to true)

Her lips are dry, colorless. They part, framing crooked teeth which glint dully in your flashlight's beam. Her jaw is tensed. You are tense. (set: $check1 to $check1 + 1) (if: $check1 is 3)[ (set: $hug to true)] (if: $check1 is 3)[Your hands start to shake. You stare at her prone form.] [[Look elsewhere.->Look closer.]]

You clutch her stiff form. She is cold, unmoving. Tears leak past your eyes, and somewhere in your mind a voice reminds you that you are tampering with evidence. You feel something press against your hip. You can release her and [[call for help.->Call for help.]] You can also examine her [[pocket.]]

Tom visits a few days later. You didn’t ask him to. He brings a box with him, says he thought you might want the stuff in it. Her stuff, he means. You tell him you aren’t so sure. You let him inside, make him coffee. Black. He adds sugar. Did Tom always take [[sugar->abtchain]] with his coffee?

El's death remains unsolved. After a few years, you move to a new town. You try to move on. You [[try again.->Breakfast]]

His spoon clinks as you lean against the counter, restless. (if: $tom is false)[You're not sure what to [[say.]]] (if: $tom is true)[You palm the pistol at your waistband. Cool metal rests against the small of your back. A push. [[*Go.*->Go]]]

You talk for a while. He is unusually quiet. You're quiet, too. Eventually, he asks you to go for a walk. Wants to see where they found her. Where you found her. Some bullshit about helping you confront reality. Says you don’t look well, haven’t been eating enough, aren’t talking like you used to. He's worried, wants to help you. (if: $chain is false)[[[He wants to help you.->Bastard]]] (if: $chain is true)[[[*Bastard.*->Bastard]]]

**Forest** It's well past sundown. You think you both know there's something beyond all the pretense. Beyond the quiet words and gentle sighs. Beyond the grief, whatever that is to him. To you. You think you both know. The chain burns in your coat pocket. [[Speak.]] [[Say nothing.]]

"Probably nothing, Tom," you say. Keep your voice quiet, eyes fixed on the path. "But you don’t wear your necklace anymore." *Wasn’t a necklace,* he mumbled. *Wasn’t important. Lost it, probably.* "Well, Tom. Might have some good news for you. [[Is this it?]]"

Tom frowns. *Cora, what's going on?* Your shoulders sag. The chain slips through your fingers, falling to the forest floor. Tears prick your eyes, and you raise shaking hands to cover your face. "I don't know," you say. "I don't know." *Come here,* he says. He moves forward, arms wrapping around you. *It's all right. It's all right.* [[It's not.]]

He stops walking at that. You're in the clearing, throats bathed in moonlight and clawed shadows. Smiles, real slow. Nervous, maybe. *Now, where’d you find that?* Like it’s some kind of mystery. [[Arrogant sonofabitch.]]

Right hand outstretched, chain glinting between fingers. A few lengths between you. Silence around you. Left hand at your side. Metal on your spine. Ready. "She trusted you, Tom. We trusted you." *I know.* "Well fuck, Tom, but you’ve got a funny way of showing it." *Cora, what’s going on?* [[Shoot him.]] [[Do not.]]

You never did think of the forest as a home. For all of El's preaching, you couldn’t shake that chill. Certainly won’t now. The forest isn’t your home, and it wasn’t hers. But that night—hell. Last night, it made a damn good [[tomb.]]

Hesitation. Your shoulders sag. The chain slips through your fingers, falling to the forest floor. Tears prick your eyes, and you raise shaking hands to cover your face. "I don't know, you say. I don't know." *Come here,* he says. He moves forward, arms wrapping around you. *It's all right. It's all right.* [[It's not.]]

**Fin.** [[Try again?->Breakfast]]

The two of you walk home. Tom takes you to your door, watches you fumble with the lock. The gun presses dully against your spine. *Tell me if you need anything, all right?* "[[Yeah.]]"

**Fin.** Perhaps there's more to the story... [[Try again?->Breakfast]]

You talk for a while. He is unusually quiet. You're quiet, too. Eventually, he asks you to go for a walk. Wants to see where they found her. Where you found her. Something about helping you confront reality. Says you don’t look well, haven’t been eating enough, aren’t talking like you used to. He's worried, wants to help you. [[He wants to help you.]]

**Forest** It's well past sundown. You're not sure what Tom intends to get out of this. There must be something beyond all the pretense. Beyond the quiet words and gentle sighs. Beyond the grief, whatever that is to him. To you. There must be. [[Keep walking.]] [[Stop.]]

The two of you reach the clearing a few minutes later. Tom still hasn't said a word. Now, however, he looks to you. Your eyes are fixed on a scrap of caution tape, caught in a tangle of branches. He approaches the patch of shadows where El's body had lain, staring down at it with an unreadable expression. Something twinges in your mind. A thought. [[How does he know that's where she was?->thought]]

Tom frowns. You're at the edge of the clearing now. *Cora, what's going on?* Your shoulders sag. Tears prick your eyes, and you raise shaking hands to cover your face. "I don't know," you say. "I don't know." *Come here,* he says. He moves forward, arms wrapping around you. *It's all right. It's all right.* [[It's not.->it's not2]]

The two of you walk home. Tom takes you to your door, watches you fumble with the lock. It isn't until morning that you find the chain has vanished. *Tell me if you need anything, all right?* "[[Yeah.]]"

The question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself. Tom looks back at you, brow furrowing. *Huh?* You [[repeat yourself]], words growing strong in your throat.

Tom looks at you thoughtfully. Appraising. *Cora,* he says, *I need you to tell me something.* His words are slow, as if he's speaking to a child. He still hasn't answered your question. *When you found El, did she have anything with her? Anything that wasn't hers?* You remember suddenly that the chain is still in your coat pocket. Tom's chain. "[[Yes.]]" "[[No.->Shake your head.]]"

Tom nods. *But the police didn't find that thing. Did you take it, Cora?* You feel ice forming around your stomach, crawling over your veins. You reach into your pocket, feel your fingers brush cool metal. [[Give him the chain.]] [[Shake your head.]]

You draw out your hand shakily. The chain glints between your fingertips, and Tom smiles. It is not a comforting expression. *Oh, Cora,* he says. *I really wish you hadn't seen that.* The next moment is a blur. Tom is reaching to his waistband, moving forward, there's a loud *crack-* Then everything goes [[dark.]]

Tom's gaze darkens. *Cora,* he growls, *Don't lie to me, now. I know you have it.* Your stomach twists, and your feet urge you to run. [[Have what?]] [[Give him the chain.]] [[Run.->try escape]]

You have died. If only you had been **prepared**... [[Try again?->Breakfast]]

An odd look of calm spreads over the man's face. In a single motion, he draws a small pistol from his waistband. The barrel stares blankly at your forehead. The gentleness is gone from Tom's voice. *Give it to me.* [[Give him the chain.->give2]] [[Run.->try escape]]

Tom is faster than you. He lunges forward, wrenches you to the ground. His weight pins you against dirt and dead leaves, your nose pressed suffocatingly close to the forest floor as you struggle. In the next moment you feel something cold and metallic press to your skull, there's a loud *crack-* Then everything goes [[dark.]]

You draw out your hand shakily. The chain glints between your fingertips, and Tom smiles. It is not a comforting expression. *Good girl.* The next moment is a blur. Tom is moving forward, there's a loud *crack-* Then everything goes [[dark.]]

You think back to the chain you found that night. It belongs to Tom, you know. It seems strange that it would have been with El. Then again, she visited Tom often enough. And he was always losing things. For all you know, he might have dropped it, and she was planning to return it to him later. Still... [[Too strange to be a coincidence. Something's up.->guilty]] [[Not enough to go on.->not guilty]]

[[Maybe so.->sugar]] (set: $tom to false)

[[Maybe so.->sugar]] (set: $tom to true)