“The wind. Think of the wind. Don’t think about it.” “What good will the wind do me?” “I don’t know! I’m trying to calm you down!” “Well it’s not working!” He was supposed to be here hours ago. He was supposed to come, in his stupid van, with his douche bag boyfriend, and with our food. “Hey, look at the tree!” “Which one? We’re IN THE FOREST!” “Stop panicking! It’s like a disease!” Oh so I’M a disease now.” “Your twisting my words!”

She always does this. My porcelain doll of a wife is about to shatter. “I’m sorry. What tree was it?” “The deadfall with no bark.” “Oh… Holy shit Alba! We’re under a death trap!” “We can’t move Lily! I’m sorry… I’m so so sorry.” Just when I need to hate her she starts to cry.

I was supposed to be there hours ago. I’m supposed to be a lifeline. I bring the food to there three month camping trips. Life is unpredictable but I’m not. And now my arm is five feet in front of me. I am positioned so I have a clear view of my boyfriend, who is impaled by an inconvenient rock. I, however, ended up in an inconsistent mud puddle, trapped by the van, left to bleed out, and gaze at my arm, my boyfriend, and the last bits of life.