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Jane sat on the cold, wooden floor, her back leaning against one of the many wooden boxes in the warehouse. She could feel splinters digging into her back, but what did she care, she was dead anyway. She had thought that choosing to stay in the warehouse- choosing to stay with the choir- would’ve made them warm up to her, but it appeared she was mistaken. They weren’t outwardly cold, at least not to her face, but she didn’t miss the whispers that quickly dissolved the moment she got close, the small flinches that they tried to suppress. The way Ocean would slowly nudge the others away as if she was a mother hen protecting her babies from danger. Constance tried, at least. She would occasionally smile at Jane, looked at her. But it was always forced, and she couldn’t look at Jane long. None of them could. Not like she blamed them, anyway.
She had caught a glimpse of herself a couple days after they all died in one of the rusty old carnival mirrors that had been stored in the warehouse. Though dirty, it showed enough for her to get a good glimpse of what she looked like. And she was terrifying. A head, far too small for her body, the eyes dark and lifeless, somehow put onto her neck. Blood streaked down from the spot where it had been haphazardly attached, the skin deformed and missing in spots. Maybe she couldn’t remember what she used to look like, but she was sure as hell that it wasn’t that. She was disgusting. A disgusting, pitiful mess. How could she expect anyone to love her? She couldn’t even love herself. She’d avoided all mirrors since. She couldn’t bear it.
She held her dolly in her arms as she sat against the floor. Although its headless form was a cruel reminder of her own predicament, it had been her only friend for days, and she had warmed up to it. She could hear the distant voices of the choir, a babble of excited chatter. They hadn’t even noticed she was gone. If they had, they weren’t upset by it. She curled her knees up to her chest, one hand wrapped around her legs, the other gripping onto her dolly. She buried her face in between her knees, closing her eyes. She had a flash, a moment of memory. She was doing the same thing as right now- curling up, closing her eyes. But she wasn’t alone. There had been a hand rubbing her shoulder, a voice- what is that voice, it sounds so familiar- and then, in a flash, it was gone, leaving her desperately clinging on to the threads.
As the last remnants of memory slipped away, they left in their place an overwhelming sense of utter loneliness and emptiness. She had never felt this stranded, this isolated. She had always had someone- who was it, she was so close to remembering- but now, there was nothing and nobody. The warehouse was dark. The rest of the choir was much quieter now, settling in to sleep. They didn’t have much concept of time in here, they all just slept when they got tired. Jane didn’t sleep. She didn’t feel the need to. That’s not normal, she’s weird, she’s not like everyone else- Her hours at night were spent the same way as they were when she was awake, just with less chatter; alone, leaning back against one of the boxes, near the now-dead Karnak.
She was hopeless. A husk. No memories, no friends- no identity. Nothing to ground herself to. She hated it. She hated it all. She hated the choir, she hated the stupid fair that had done this to her, she hated this creaky stupid warehouse. She hated herself. Before she knew it, her eyes started to sting. She wiped at them, leaving something wet behind on her hand. Her vision went blurry, and before she knew it, tears were streaking down her cheeks. She started to sob, trying to muffle the sound by shoving her face further down in between her knees, gasping for breath in between sobs. Her dolly slipped from her grasp, falling to the ground. She was too caught up in crying to care. Too caught up in crying to register the sounds of footsteps moving towards her.
Suddenly, she felt movement beside her- someone was there. She sniffed again, turning her head, her black eyes widening in surprise. It was one of the boys from the choir- Ricky, she dimly remembered. The girl Ocean often called him "Ricky sweetie"- or at least she had when they first arrived. He had picked up her dolly from the floor, holding it in his arms as he watched her quietly. As she continued to cry, he hesitantly moved closer. She didn’t miss the slight trepidation in his movements, burying her face back in between her knees. Even the people that tried to care for her were afraid, cautious, as if she was a dangerous animal. As she continued to cry, something broke through the haze in her mind. A soft tapping on her shoulder. She startled, lifting her head up and looking back.
The boy was still there, holding her doll out to her and moving its porcelain arm up and down, gently patting her on the shoulder. When he noticed her watching, he pulled it away, awkwardly holding it. He looked at the floor.
“Sorry,” he whispered, “that was weird.”
A strange noise came from her lips. A soft, lilting one. She was… giggling? He looked up at her, looking surprised. He faintly blushed, looking embarrassed (was it just embarrassment?). He offered her dolly back to her, holding it out. She took it, smiling softly at him. He moved closer again, sitting next to her, a couple of inches between them. They were both tense, resolutely looking at anything else besides each other. Neither one of them knew what to say. Then, she felt something warm reach out, gently taking her hand. She looked down. The boy- Ricky, she reminded herself- had gently nudged his hand against hers. She looked up, trying to gague his expression. He was still looking away, but the blush on his cheeks had deepened. She tentatively took his hand. When he didn’t flinch in fear or move his hand away, she moved closer, their shoulders brushing each other. She had never been more glad that she wasn’t able to blush, her cheeks would’ve been crimson at this point if she could.
They continued to sit in silence for a little while, but now the silence was comforting instead of awkward. Then, slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder. At first he flinched, starting to pull away. Her heart jumped- darn it, Jane, why do you always have to ruin everything- but then, his arm reached around her, pulling her to him. She tensed, but then relaxed, letting him hold her against him. A soft smile spread across her face.
Maybe she wasn’t so alone after all.