Archive of Our Own ^beta

What does it matter the journey when the destination is the same?

Grace lay awake on the floor of her room, staring up at the ceiling. There was still dirt on her neck, under her nails. In her hair. She hadn't had the energy to take care of it. It took everything she had to merely summon up a wide grin for her parents, assuring them that she was fine. That the police had only been looking for her because they were worried that her and her friends had been in danger. That she was tired and would be going to bed.

It wasn't fully a lie.

Steph had urged her to take a shower. Grace wanted to take a shower.

Instead she laid motionless on the floor. Her hands felt like they were at opposite ends of the room, even though her brain knew they were just at the ends of her arms. The same arms that felt like they had melted into the carpet beneath her.

For a moment, the soft texture of the carpet fibers faded and she could feel the tough and coarse turf digging into her shoulders, her back.

Grace blinked.

Her head shook. Or maybe it only felt like it did. She didn't remember feeling the ground while it had been happening.

Why would she remember it now?

Pete had told her she probably didn't need to worry about any sort of diseases or pregnancy. After all, Max was dead. Or... a ghost? Or-

Grace had waved him off before Steph had a chance to stop him herself. Her answer was short. She knew what she had wanted to say. Knew what she would've said not even a full day ago.

Instead all she managed to get out was: "It's fine."

All 3 of them had let her have that lie. Another sin. Maybe that's why Grace now laid on the floor, not quite moving. Expecting something and expecting nothing all at the same time.

Grace felt like she had broken in two. Her torso no longer existed and all that remained were her arms and legs, both spread out to either side of the room.

The strangest part of it all, maybe the scariest part, was that she found herself at peace.

Whether her punishment would come for her or not, it no longer mattered. She had been sliding down the slope of righteousness for a while, with no handholds to grab onto. Max hadn't been the first. Not the first lie. Not the first desire.

It almost felt relieving, to know that if she had to sin, if she was destined to sin, it was done in a way that meant she could save the others. It meant that she could experience what she knew had been off-limits without it being purely selfish.

That had to count for something.

Then again, maybe Pete was right. Max, no... it, was just a ghost. Maybe it didn't count. Her punishment still hadn't come after all.

The laughing began in her ears once more. The same as it had back on the field. Back in the gym.

Grace found herself laughing quietly along with it. Pausing only as she felt the strange sensation of tears rolling down her face.

The laughing voices started to speak, but Grace couldn't make out the words. Her laughter was too frequent. Too overpowering. The more she laughed, the more she found it weird that she was laughing. The more she cried, the harder she found herself laughing, finding it weird that she was crying.

With the break in the monotonous waiting, Grace found herself able to move again. She wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach as if that could fix the rip inside of her.

Instead, all she could feel was the dirt staining her once white undershirt.

The idea of laying in the fresh sheets she had changed this morning made her stomach twist as Grace stared at her bed. She pulled herself to her feet.

Running a bath this late at night would surely alert her parents to something being off. Grace giggled as she imagined trying to explain everything that had happened to them.

Explaining just how far she had fallen.

Just how far she had flown.

Instead, Grace stumbled over to her dresser, opening it up only to be greeted with clothes she knew would no longer fit. It was all too white. Too tight. The idea of anything clinging to her body made her shudder, painful shivers rolling down her back and through her chest. Her skin itched like the dirt had somehow gotten underneath it. Her breath was as shaky as her legs as Grace dug to the bottom of the drawer. Pulling out an oversized sweatshirt that didn't belong to her, she relaxed just slightly, knowing it wouldn't cling. She clutched it in her fists, pulling out some loose pajama shorts and a change of under garments.

Everything she was wearing now would simply have to be tossed, but that was something she would take care of outside of her home. Away from her parent's eyes and the questions that would inevitably come from it.

Grace made her way to the bathroom.

It wasn't a shower, or a bath, but after an hour of scrubbing her skin nearly raw over the sink, Grace finally felt like the dirt on her body had drained away. In its place was an overwhelming sense of hollowness.

The feeling almost made her giddy.

Her legs still shook as she walked back to her room. The sweatshirt hung off her frame and draped past her hands. The fleece inside had turned coarse over the years, the fabric around the cuffs worn. Inside of it, she felt whole again. She could once again feel her hands, her arms connecting them to her torso and chest. The bag of the fabric swished around her as she swung her arms back and forth, a skip just barely avoiding her step as she moved quickly down the hallway.

Grace pulled further into it as she crawled into her bed, ignoring the nausea that rose as she began to feel the dirt once again gather on her skin. Under it.

She'd have to change her sheets in the morning.

Her eyes closed, but she didn't sleep. In her ears she could still hear the laughing. In her head, she could feel the same warm and fuzzy buzz that had been there after everything. She smiled even as her heart seemed unable to get the message. Even as it ached at a loss she didn't understand it could be feeling.

***

Pete sat on the bed in his room at Ted's place. His eyes closed as he remembered just why he had stopped staying the night. Through the thin walls of his brother's shitty apartment, Pete could hear everything. Unfortunately that included whatever weird noises he and his coworker made.

That now made it twice tonight that Pete had been within 10 feet of two people having sex.

His eyes opened as his stomach flipped. For a moment, in the darkness, he had imagined Grace's face. The empty look in her eyes after Max had been taken. After they all finally had a moment to breathe. To think.

He sat up, leaning forward on the mattress that over the years had grown just a little too small. His hands found their way to rest on his knees as he winced, realizing just how bruised they were. Pete refused to think about why. It was the same reason he didn't want to go home. It had been an impossibly long day, and what waited for him at home were just reminders.

He didn't want to think about anything.

Here, in Ted's spare room, there was nothing to think about. No reminders. There were no posters on the walls, no action figures on the shelves. No notes that had been left over from studies, or scripts tucked away after hours of practice.

Ruth and Richie didn't exist here.

Pete swallowed, a knot forming in his throat. His eyes burned.

Even in trying to lay down his own life, Pete knew he was nothing more than a coward. A cool coward. One that had finally gotten an impossibly cool girl to like him back. One that he could save, like all the heroes he had seen in movies.

It was just too bad he fumbled the landing.

The truth waited to find him until he was alone. Waited until he was surrounded by nothing but still found himself surrounded by memories. The trauma that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life pressed down against his back, clawing its way into his spine.

Pete found himself more afraid of it then he had ever been of Max.

After all, he had never faced Max alone.

The first tear fell down onto the bed. The next, onto his hand.

If he had just died, if he had just taken that stupid bullet, he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be here thinking of them. How scared they must've been when they died. How they were alone.

How, even when it mattered the most, Pete still winced and cowered at the bully's fist.

He hadn't even considered making a sacrifice of his own. Wasn't dying supposed to be enough? He thought again about Steph, his tears falling harder as he realized how she must've felt.

Those things had demanded what they cherished most.

It wasn't just that Steph was giving them Pete. It was her shaky hands, the tears in her eyes as she realized that she had to be the one to kill him. Steph was stronger than he was. He had heard the shot fire...

And it still wasn't enough.

Grace had saved both of them. She had done it with a knowing grin. And those monsters had accepted it.

"It's fine."

The empty eyes behind that statement was enough for all of them to know it wasn't.

The roaring laughter still echoing in their ears was evidence enough. They wanted a sacrifice, they needed a price to be paid. Whatever Grace had done, no matter how much she buried it, there was a truth that nobody could deny.

To save them, to save the town, Grace Chasity had given them what she cherished most. Even if Max had been nothing more than a ghost, he had still bullied yet another nerd into getting exactly what he wanted. Only this time, Grace was the one to live on with the consequences. Just like Steph had to live on knowing that she could kill someone she loved. And Pete lived on knowing that he couldn't.

Not even when it meant saving the only friends he had left.

***

Steph had told the others she was going home. It wasn't a total lie. Eventually she did have to go home. She knew Pete didn't believe her, that was fine. He would've stayed with her had she asked.

And Grace… she had told them both her own lie.

Steph's phone lit up the street she walked on, the glow from her notifications the only light as she almost mindlessly walked to her destination. The curfew her father had implemented was in full effect. The streets were completely empty.

It was just her.

Irritated, Steph plucked her phone from her pocket for the first time since that stupid fucking ritual. She still felt Grace's hand pulling down on her shoulder. Pete trying to hiss that it wasn't going to be enough.

Both of them just trying to keep those things attention off of her.

23 missed notifications.

All Twitter. That was nothing new. All tags. Also nothing new.

Her thumb stopped scrolling, her legs growing stiff. They started walking in a new direction before she had even finished reading it.

Hatchetfield Scanner Posted 2 Hours Ago:
Officer recovered from crash. Rushed to St. Damien's hospital. Full recovery expected. Witness to give report in morning. Foul play isn't suspected at this time.

***

"How much?"

Detective Shapiro looked awful. Her face was swollen. Covered in swatches of bright white gauze from head to toe. Still, her eyes were sharp as she stared Steph down from the hospital bed she was laid up in.

It was past visiting hours, but rules like that didn't apply when you were the mayor's daughter. Something Steph was quickly realizing she hadn't taken enough advantage of.

"How much, what?" Shapiro asked her sharply.

There was still one last thing she could do though.

"To make it disappear."

In her head she saw Grace's hollow eyes. The way her arms wrapped around herself as she shook. All with that infuriating, plastered on smile.

Grace had always sucked at lying.

"If that's what's got you so concerned then stop it. I may be nursing a concussion but my head's not busted enough to forget what I saw. And what I saw is something I'd very much like to pretend I didn't, but I can't. So you and that nerdy boy are off the hook-"

"Grace too."

"Chasity stole an officer's gun and fled-"

"Then how much?" Steph's eyes narrowed.

"Young lady if you think you can just buy me-"

"Then what do you want?! Do you want me to fucking beg?" Steph spat, taking a step forward. Her hands clenched at her sides.

She could hear her father's voice in her head. Emotion is what sinks your ship. Not lying. Or desperation. It is emotion that people find to be weakness. What they will take when there is nothing left.

Steph felt her lip curl, shaking her head as she tried to put the lecture out of her brain.

Tried to blink away the sight of his blood staining the grass.

"Grace doesn't need any more shit. She's fucking on edge as it is. She saved this shithole town tonight, and the very least I can do is make sure she doesn't go down for it."

"How in the world did Chasity save this town from a fucking ghost?!" Shapiro narrowed her eyes, trying to search for the bullshit in Steph's story.

"That doesn't matter-"

"I sure as hell think it does."

Steph's jaw clenched.

"She made a deal. It got rid of Max without anyone else dying."

Steph could still feel the uncomfortably cold skin on her fingertips where she had grabbed Grace. How limp her body was as she yanked her back, away from Max. Away from those things. Steph could still feel her trembling. Even when the laughter had faded and Grace roughly pushed her off.

She wondered if she'd ever be able to forget it.

"If you need to arrest someone then fucking take me I guess." Steph growled, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the gun.

Her stomach flipped as she remembered the feeling of pulling the trigger. The catch that was halfway back on the lever. The way her hands finally stopped shaking, staring at Pete's head through blurry tears. That steadiness was gone as she walked it over to Shapiro's side table, tossing it down as if the metal burned to touch.

Shapiro stared at it. Stared at Steph. Her eyes were sharp and critical. Steph wondered how many other murderers she had broken with that gaze.

Lifting her hand up, the detective flicked the safety on, tucking the weapon safely back into her jacket pocket.

"Water."

Steph stared at her, her eye twitching. Swallowing down the urge to leave, to flip her off, she stiffly moved over to the sink in the room, turning her back as she grabbed a cup. Filling it up quickly, she turned back to find Detective Shapiro gone.

Instead she had moved to be right beside her, placing the gun on the counter as she grabbed some sort of medical wipes from the cabinet.

"Bailey's always loaning this thing out." She mumbled under her breath, taking care to wipe down the trigger, the barrel. Anywhere one might grab a fingerprint. "Was only a matter of time before it got stolen."

"Does this mean you're actually going to let her go?"

"Depends." Shapiro said stiffly, wincing as she turned to lean against the counter, sliding the weapon, thankfully, out of sight. "Am I going to be getting any more calls about dead kids?"

Steph's laugh caught in her throat.

"You can't possibly think we wanted this!" She finally snapped.

Her words echoed in her head.

She never wanted this. Never wanted to like him. Never thought she could care what happened to her.

"Fine. Whatever. No more calls." Steph agreed quickly, stopping whatever sharp retort was brewing in the detective. Biting the inside of her cheek, her hand jutted out into the space between them. "Grace doesn't go down for any of it."

Detective Shapiro looked down at the hand in front of her. After a moment her own hand lifted to grab it, the handshake firm.

A deal made.

***

Pete lay awake, his eyes painfully dry as he blinked at the sharp light from his phone. His pillow was wet, he could still feel the remains of his tears on his cheek.

His glasses were somewhere lost in the bed. He had passed out before thinking to take them off.

The bodies from last night had been found. It was everywhere. Ruth, Miss Tessburger, the mayor…

Shapiro had come forward after a night spent in a hospital bed to say the culprit behind the recent string of attacks had finally been apprehended.

Pete tried not to think about that meant. Knowing that whatever happened last night wasn't anything the police would've found. It was locked away in their memories.

Locked behind Grace's empty eyes.

With a shaky breath, Pete clicked into the text thread he had turned to for the last 2 weeks. His message remained unread. He hoped that meant Steph was still sleeping.

Why didn't he just walk her home? After everything he had asked her to do, he just had to take more. For a moment, his thumb hovered over a different name from his contacts. Grace Chasity hadn't wanted to share her number. Worried and preaching about how exchanging numbers was almost as bad as holding hands.

Pete had only managed to convince her it was fine after a 5 minute explanation of how the hell a 'group' project was supposed to work when she was leaving for some stupid Christian retreat over the weekend they had to do their work.

She had probably never saved his number.

That used to be fine. It used to be a relief.

His thumb fell as he locked the screen, letting his phone fall onto his bed. His eyes hurt. His chest ached. Pete could count the number of his contacts on one hand. At least the ones that weren't family.

After the last two weeks… he was left with just two.

The same two people he had let down.

Ted must've seen how red his eyes were, how pathetic he looked, because he didn't tease him the way he normally did. Instead he was quiet, moving to take care of the breakfast he burnt anyways. Making sure he grabbed Pete's backpack when he numbly almost left without it.

His steps fell one after another. The bus had left, but Ted's place wasn't far from the school. The entire town was quiet. Like it was holding its breath. Maybe it knew. Maybe it didn't. Maybe everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For one more thing to go wrong. One more body to be found.

Pete's was supposed to be the last…

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It took him a moment. At first, he thought it must've been from Richie. A link to some article from some obscure website with way too many pop-ups.

He stopped. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, his body fell cold as his breath caught in his chest. No tears came at the memory. Just as naturally as the thought came, it left. Argued from existence in the same factual tone of voice Pete was used to correcting himself with.

It couldn't be Richie. He was dead.

The message came from Steph. And for the first time since he come to terms with the idea that it would stop entirely, Pete felt like his heart stood a chance to beat again.

S - sory. late nite.
S - gonna be late
S - don’t wait up
S - tell that nerd chasitity she doesn't get to be fine roday

***

There was another straggler the next morning, another kid late for school. They walked several yards in front of Steph, dressed in loose shorts and an oversized hoodie that fell off their body. Steph thought she recognized it as one she used to own. But she hadn't listened to Needy Beasts in months...

The figure turned slightly, moving away from the front doors, their destination just slightly off to the side.

Steph slowed her pace, watching carefully as they pulled a plastic bag stuffed full of clothing out of their pocket, burying it deep into the trashcan they had stopped in front of. Without a second thought, they left it behind, pushing through the front doors of the school.

Her own course changed, curiosity demanding she figure out what the fuck just happened. It changed to a dread as she peered down into the trashcan itself, just barely catching a glimpse of a familiar blue sweater and dirt-stained undershirt.

Looking down the halls of the school, Steph swallowed the knot growing in her throat. Realizing that, for the first time in her entire life, Grace Chasity was late to school.

***

Grace hadn't spoken a word all day. She didn't raise her hand in class. Didn't stop and pray before the pop quiz they had. Didn't hum to herself as she filled out her work.

Steph caught Pete's eyes, recognizing the concern behind them. It was as if a stranger was sitting in between them.

A stranger wearing Grace's skin.

A stranger wearing her sweatshirt.

She let them stay close. Let them make small conversation nearby without hissing at them to stay quiet. It only served to make Steph feel worse.

Eventually they had to talk.

Her hand fell on Grace's shoulder. Something she had done before, something Grace had let her do before.

Chasity flinched as if she had been burned. She wheeled on the culprit as Steph realized it wasn't just her personality that was wrong. For a moment, her eyes had flashed, the hatred behind them foreign and dangerous. Immediately that anger melted into normal irritation. A flash of the old Grace came back as she threw her shoulders back and puffed out her chest.

Class ended without another incident. She took off to lunch without looking back. Steph and Pete were left to simply follow her.

After all, what else were they supposed to do?

They sat at the far end of the cafeteria, away from everyone. Steph could feel eyes on them. Could hear the rumors floating around. She knew her presence was enough to keep everyone away. To keep them from asking the direct questions.

Questions none of them would be able to answer.

Her eyes must've lulled, her head falling against Pete's shoulder almost naturally. He was warm, the way he leaned back feeling safe and familiar. It let her guard drop for a moment too long.

"Hey so, Grace. I uh, wanted to talk."

Jason.

Steph's eyes opened to see Grace sitting with her back perfectly straight, her hands folded on the table in front of her. They clenched as the boy continued.

"Like maybe we can hang out together more. Outside of church, I mean."

Grace didn't look up at him. Steph watched her. Wishing she would. Wishing she would fight back the way she used to. Say something stupid and dorky. Quote some biblical phrase with her finger held up in the air-

Jason took another step forward.

When did he get so close to her?

Steph sat up straight as Pete shifted to get to his feet. Without Grace stopping him, Jason innocently moved to tuck a strand of loose hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear.

Please fight back.

A silent prayer left unanswered as Grace flinched.

"Hey dude, lay off." Pete squeaked, somewhat intimidatingly as he quickly rushed to put himself between the two, his hands pushing back on the football players shoulders.

Steph watched him for a moment as the former bully back-pedaled quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. Excuses flew from his mouth. He wasn't doing anything wrong, he just wanted to maybe get to know her better. Ask her to the dance. Normal stuff.

Grace's shoulders were still raised to her ears.

Steph heard the boys still arguing. She stood up gently, careful to give Grace space as she turned to Jason.

"She had a long night. Just give her some space." She explained, somewhat patiently, as Jason finally seemed to get the hint. She watched him leave as she put a hand on Pete's shoulder.

"Good try." She thanked him gently as he shot her a half-hearted smile.

Grace pushed back her chair, snatching her backpack as she quickly stood and walked stiffly away from both of them. Careful to be sure she left in the opposite direction that Jason had.

"Grace?" Pete called after her.

Neither of them were surprised when she didn't answer.

Steph snatched both of their bags, tossing Pete's to him as she took off after Grace. They followed her out of the school and onto the field. Steph fought back the shiver that ran down her back, it all felt too familiar. Even with the sun shining overhead.

Thankfully, Grace turned before they got too close, making sure to head to the bleachers on the opposite side of the field. She sat like a statue on the lowest bench, barely acknowledging Pete and Steph as they slipped in on either side of her.

Nobody spoke. Grace's eyes kept to the sky, Pete's eyes locked to the same awful place he had knelt.

The place he chosen to die.

Steph ignored them both.

"So." She started carefully, paying close attention to the way Pete turned to her. The way Grace imperceptibly recoiled. "What do I have to do to get you nerds over to my place tonight? House got way too quiet last night."

"Ha." Pete laughed stiffly. Steph could tell there wasn't much humor behind it. "Don't have to ask me twice. My brother had his coworker over last night. With all the noise from them doing it I could barely-"

Steph quickly reached behind Grace as she flicked the side of Pete's head sharply, stopping his ramble. His eyes widened as he realized his mistake.

Grace had shrunk into herself. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut as her head finally tilted back towards the ground.

"Grace?"

She had ignored her all day. Even before she had pushed her boundaries, every small check-in she tried had been met with silence. Steph wasn't sure why this time would be any different-

"I shouldn't."

Her voice was raw. It cracked and broke on each short syllable. Steph recognized the damage. Knew it was from the type of sobbing that caught so heavily in your throat that it choked your breath and fucked with your lungs.

"Oh come on, Grace. I'm sure your parents will understand." Pete tried, gently placing a hand on Grace's shoulder before Steph could stop him.

Grace jerked away violently, irritably, causing it to slide off immediately.

It was a flash of the old Chasity. Annoying and familiar.

Then her eyes grew hollow once more. She shook her head, her hands digging into the sleeves of Steph's hoodie.

"Come over and I'll you let dig through my closet. I'm sure I've got a couple of old band tees that might feel... easier." Steph offered.

Grace blinked, seeming to move more naturally.

"I have my own clothes." She snapped.

"Which is why you're out here in my old hoodie."

Grace's jaw tightened, but Steph saw through the crack in her broken exterior. She wanted to keep digging. To find out just how deep she had buried herself.

"Just how long have you had that thing anyways? I haven't been into the Beasts in months."

"Camp." Grace mumbled, her head turning to the side.

She was still avoiding looking at the field.

"Fuck, right."

It was a rainy day. Grace had been waiting for a bus, some stupid camp in the woods. She had tried to get Steph to join her, not realizing how stupid she looked shivering to death while trying to lecture her on the dangers of pre-marital sex.

Not realizing her only real danger was the cold she was going to catch.

Steph had left her at the stop. Left her clinging the sweatshirt she had pulled off, still refusing to put it on.

"Guess I won't be invited to be a counselor next year." Grace said quietly, her eyes wide in realization.

Pete snorted.

"Camp Idonwannabang, right? Please. Ted told me the Jerry's who run that are the biggest freaks in town."

"Pete!" Grace hissed, her eyes narrowing. "I don't want to think about them like that!"

Pete's eyes shined as a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The outburst was annoying. It was Grace.

"I was there this year too you know. They're so overtly horny for people who are supposed to be pushing abstinence."

Grace scowled, whipping her head around to stare at Steph, as if asking if she could believe what Pete was saying.

Steph bit her cheek, keeping the laugh in her chest from coming out.

"If they don't want you back, it's their loss. You're the only one there who really gives a fuck anyways."

"It's about our peers souls! Of course I give a fudge." Grace said quickly.

In the distance they heard the bell ring for class.

Pete and Grace shared a look. Steph knew why. Their next class was supposed to be AP Calculus. The same class they had shared with Richie and Ruth.

"Nobody's going to notice if we leave."

Steph could see it on Pete's face. Could see the haunting in his eyes. She had seen it last night, when she had suggested walking him home. He couldn't face them. Couldn't face their memories. So instead, he nodded.

Grace looked between them.

"We can't." Grace said plainly, standing up.

She didn't move. The field fell quiet as Steph gently stood up, her head tilted as she leaned forward to make sure Grace could see her.

"Why not?"

"Just because you don't care about your GPA doesn't mean you get to drag me and Pete down with you."

Instead of being angry, or irritated, Steph laughed. It seemed to confuse Grace more than anything.

"So why aren't you going back in?"

Grace didn't have an answer. She bit at her lip, her eyes refusing to meet Steph's. Pete stood up, clearly choosing his side. He looked down gently at Grace as they could both see the betrayal in her eyes. The clear disappointment.

Steph supposed that was all they were ever going to be to her.

"Why not, Grace?" He shrugged. An offer.

Really, why not? Who the fuck would miss them? Pete was a nerd with no friends. Grace was the school's preachy prude. And herself? Well Steph had recently become Hatchetfield's most famous orphan.

Something none of her so-called friends had dared approach.

"Come on." Steph called, moving away without looking back.

Grace was either going to follow them or she wouldn't. Either way, Steph couldn't stand being out on the field for a second longer. Inside the school, the warning bell rang. One last attempt to get Grace to move. To choose it. To choose normalcy over whatever they had become. Pete moved quickly to walk beside her, catching up almost immediately. When Steph didn't hear Grace follow, his deep sigh was a comfort. It felt less weird, realizing how annoying it was that it hurt, when she had proof it affected someone else too. Taking a shaky breath, she leaned into him as they continued to head home.

Leaving Grace to be late for class.

Alone.

***

Grace stood outside the door of the Lauter mansion, staring up at the dramatically large arched doorway. She imagined this was what it was meant to feel like, standing outside the gates of Heaven as a sinner.

Knowing you didn't belong.

She shifted her backpack further onto her shoulders as she knocked.

Pete was the one who answered.

"Grace?!"

There was a thud from further inside the house as Grace could hear the other inhabitant she knew to be inside.

"Shit." Steph coughed, sounding like she had something in her throat. "No fucking way-"

Wincing at the coarse language, Grace looked back up to Pete. It was up to him to convince her that somehow this wasn't a mistake. Why did her parents even think this was a good idea? She had asked them simply in hopes they would disagree.

Instead they almost seemed to insist she spend the night with her friends. Like somehow she was the one who might have needed them.

"Are you ok?" He asked her, his head tilting.

He still didn't move from the doorway, gripping to the door he had opened like it was the last remaining piece of wood from Noah's fated arc…

"I'm sure she's doing real fucking great, standing out in the cold while you block the entire door." Steph teased.

Grace was sure it was meant to be affectionate, she just wasn't sure how. It was Pete's turn to wince, looking over at Steph with concern as he finally seemed to unlock his legs, moving to stand aside. Grace moved inside stiffly, feeling awkward standing outside after all the attention that had been raised.

"Maybe you should cool it on the cussing…" Pete hissed, trying and failing to be quiet as Steph rolled her eyes.

"Come on Chasity, we're watching movies in the den. It's Pete's pick right now, but I think we can make an exception if you wanted to watch something else-"

"Wait wait, we just turned it on!" Pete cried, his eyes widening. "You haven't even given it a chance."

"Look dork, just because I like you doesn't mean I'm going to magically like Star Wars. It's just not for me-"

"Isn't that the movie about the brother falling in love with the sister?" Grace asked, her eyes narrowing.

Steph cackled. Pete grabbed his nose, lifting his glasses just slightly.

"No. That's just-" He sighed, looking up at Steph who was now grinning even wider. "Yes. By your standards Grace, that is what happens."

"I should go-"

Steph was still laughing as she gently grabbed Grace's wrist, pulling her inside as she kicked the door back shut, locking her inside.

Grace wasn't sure why she let her. It still burned to feel anything touching her. Eventually the fire on her skin caused her body to move automatically, tearing her hand from Steph's grip as they made their way to their destination. Her peers eyes turned to the same infuriating concern that they had shared earlier too.

As if she wasn't fine.

The laughter echoed in her ears.

"Did you want a blanket or something?" Steph asked, her head tilting. "You're shivering." She explained further, frowning at Grace's blank stare.

The room was dark. It was a comfort in a sense. Helped quiet the screaming in her mind. Steph still stared at her, like she could see the rips inside.

"Hey Pete, mind holding down the fort? I'm going to change before we get started on whatever Grace wants to watch."

"Oh, um... sure. That's probably fine." He shook his head quickly, shooting a gentle smile her way. "That's fine."

He walked stiffly over to the large couch, throwing one of the many large blankets that had been gathered over his lap as he searched for the remote buried somewhere in the rest. Grace stared at the pillows, the bright colors and fluffy patterns of the blankets. Steph had never really struck her as the warm and fuzzy type.

"Earth to Chasity." Steph called her attention, already having moved to the staircase. Grace shook her head, glancing back at her. "Come on, I told you I'd let you go through my clothes if you came over."

Having no other choice, Grace followed. The voices mocked her as she did. Following was what she did best at after all.

***

Her eyes were on the ceiling. It was taller than her own. The plaster patterns different. Smoother. Steph's bed was huge. Despite sitting up straight Grace still felt like she was being swallowed whole. She could hear Steph getting changed in the bathroom. To her initial horror, she had refused to shut the door, forcing Grace to keep her eyes skyward.

Looking up used to be something that brought her comfort. After all, there had always been someone to turn to up there. Someone who would understand her struggles. Now she was just left with a cold feeling of dread.

"Hey Grace, question." Steph's voice called from the bathroom.

Grace didn't look down.

"What the hell was that earlier, with Jason?"

There was the nausea again. Grace finally tore her eyes down from the ceiling, shutting them tightly as her mouth filled with saliva. Suddenly she could feel cold clammy hands on her body. It wasn't the sensation she remembered from last night, but she knew it was all from the same experience.

Jason's hand had felt like his too. Cold. Clammy.

Dirty.

The itching under her skin began again as she pulled her arms up into the sleeves of the sweatshirt she had been hiding within all day. There was a shifting on the bed. The way it rocked sent ripples through her stomach, causing it to flip uncomfortably.

"You should kill him."

It felt like there was ice water poured down her back. A cold electric shock joined with the cackling in her head as her eyes shot open to stare, horrified at what had been suggested.

Steph's eyes were critical. That didn't seem right, normally her sentence would've been a joke. A flippant frustration made to be forgotten as soon as it was said. Even Steph would know it would've been made in poor taste given the last few weeks.

"Why'd you let him touch you? You've been nearly jumping down my throat all day whenever I try to reach out, but some dude approaches you the way Max used to and you what, just let him?"

Grace rubbed at her arms, suddenly wishing she had taken a shower last night. What if she never felt clean again?

Steph leaned forward to grab her hands and Grace recoiled. Steph's hands had always been warm or they had burned. She didn't know if she could handle it if they were to feel cold-

"There. That." Steph snapped quickly as Grace could merely stare at her. "Baggy clothes, you don't want to be touched. You aren't doing alright."

Grace's face twitched.

"I'm fine-"

"I gave you that excuse last night."

"It's not an excuse." Grace growled.

"I made Peter open up earlier, don't think I won't make you do the same." Steph's eyes were still narrow. Critical.

They still stared at her.

Grace knew she could see the rips. She needed her to stop staring at them. To stop staring at her. To stop focusing on her sins, her doom. It didn't matter.

"Deflect all you want Steph, I know the real reason you insisted we come over." Her voice was snotty, but her chest was disconnected.

Like she was merely reading a script.

Steph didn't even blink.

"About to pull on my daddy issues Chasity? Think that will be enough to distract me from the fact that you were forced to make a decision last night that has you feeling like whatever this is?!"

"The only thing I've been forced to do is come up here with you. To have this stupid conversation about our feelings or whatever." Grace snarled.

She had wanted it. That's what Steph refused to get. It was why she was doomed. Why she was punished. She wanted it. The experience. Him. Her nails dug through the fabric of Steph's sweatshirt, digging bruises into her already damaged skin.

What did it matter?

Her body was already ruined. What was a few more marks?

"You came over here Grace." Steph reminded her sharply. "and I think you would've come over earlier too. If you weren't scared."

"Scared? Please. After everything-"

"Yeah Grace, I get it. Bodies and ghosts don't scare you. I figured that out." Steph rolled her eyes, her voice sounding more quiet. It had less of a bite now. "You can't stand when what is normal for you gets taken away. Which is how I know you aren't fine."

Grace huffed. As if Stephanie Lauter would even have a clue about what normal was. Her life was lived loosely, the rules falling away in front of her as if they didn't count. Couldn't count. It wasn't fair, it wasn't-

Her eyes burned, her head turning to the side angrily. The laughter was back.

Of course it was.

"You can't even pretend everything's normal." Steph continued, her voice soft. Grace almost missed it in the cackling. "And that's why I know it's bad."

They needed to stop talking. About this. About everything. With a sigh, Steph sat back, sliding further away from her. Standing up.

Grace finally tore her eyes from the spot she had been staring at on the wall, her eyes landing on the open bathroom door.

"Can I-"

It was inappropriate. Wrong. Dirty. Dirty dirty dirty-

"Can I use your shower?" Grace said quickly. Too quickly. The question spilled from her mouth as Steph stared at her.

There was worry in her eyes. She looked again at what Grace was wearing. The bandage covering the cracks underneath. The ones she already saw too much of.

Grace didn't even bring her suit. What would her parents think? What would God think?

The laughter was back. She flinched at the sound, could hear them start to speak-

"You didn't take one last night?"

Her head shook. Maybe it would knock loose the voices. Steph held up her hand, gesturing to the open door.

"It's all yours. There's fresh towels in the closet." She offered. "I'll uh, just go wait downstairs. Give you some privacy or whatever-"

A spike of fear shot through Grace's body like a lance. She watched Steph turn to leave, trying to give her space. Leaving her alone-

"No, no- wait!"

Steph didn't listen to anyone. Didn't take orders. Grace had watched it her whole life.

Steph stopped in the doorway, turning back almost immediately.

"I don't know how to work your shower." Grace lied. It wasn't easy, her voice cracked.

Steph surely saw the lie for what it was. As clearly as she saw the rips threatening to tear her apart. She shrugged, moving to sit on the bed as Grace stood up.

"Just uh, yell or whatever if you have questions."

Grace made her way to the bathroom, feeling Steph's eyes on her. When she turned around, they fell back down to her phone. It would have been believable enough if it wasn't for the fact that Grace could see the reflection of her screen in her eyes. It was still asleep, the screen completely black. Feeling the cold finally let go of the grip it kept on her body, Grace made sure to shut the door behind her. The sound of the running water drowned out the noise in her head, the laughter that mocked her every move.

***

Pete sat on the couch in the basement as he stared at the large screen in front of him. A blank canvas, filled only with stars. In a few frames a ship would appear, but for now the cosmos sat empty. His mind wandered, for just a moment, letting slip a memory of days spent arguing with Richie on which ship was cooler.

The Millenium Falcon was superior to the U.S.S Enterprise. It wasn't even all that close.

It was an argument he would never get to win.

His phone buzzed in his hand as it took him a minute to really register that it had. That it had been several minutes since he had heard from either of the two other occupants of the house.

S - grace wanted to take a shower

Pete had never considered himself one to have a problem with being alone. Logically, he knew he wasn't. There were 2 other occupants in the house. 2 other people who he would trust with his life. Who he had trusted with his life. He was not alone. He was simply existing on a separate floor from the others.

It didn't stop the chill that moved like ice down his spine. The thoughts, the memories. The hollowness. Steph had noticed it, had poked at it until he crumpled into a teary mess in her arms. It wasn't fair. Not after what he had asked her to do. He should've been the one consoling her. The one holding her. Telling her it was going to fucking suck, but that it would get better.

That was why she had invited them over. Despite how much she tried to bury it, Steph was just as afraid of being alone as he was. And in a house so large, it was all too easy to feel alone. All the times that he had wished Ruth and Richie would just leave him alone, all the times he felt like he couldn't escape his older brother or tried to find someplace quiet to read without his parents bugging him to 'get out of the house'.

Pete wished he could go back. Wished he could spend just a few more seconds in those moments. Knowing now they were never going to be the same.

His eyes memorized the patterns of the stars on the tv until each individual pinpoint of light had left a spot in his vision. Pete wondered if the stars would be same in Star Trek. Wondered if they used the same effect. The same simple canvas of light and darkness.

He wondered if the time wouldn't linger as long, if the Enterprise was actually faster. Would they cut to the actors sooner? Cut to someone new to fawn over, both in looks and in talent. Enough so that Pete would be pulled out of the fantasy long enough to look at whatever IMDB credits the person beyond the character had.

The spots were traded for a burning. It only irritated him further. His mouth was already dry, why couldn't his eyes be as well?

It wasn't long after he had given up the fight in his chest that Grace and Steph made their way downstairs. Pete had wiped away what he hoped was the last of his tears, watching them approach. It wasn't something he was used to, analyzing others. The way they moved or reacted. Still it was impossible to look past the clear difference in the way Grace had been acting. The way she slowly picked her way down the stairs, uncertain of each step, her eyes down.

Steph was watching her as well, hovering behind her. The concern on her face wasn't something she would have ever let slip so easily. It was buried the moment she looked up and locked eyes with him. A grin that Pete only half believed lit up her features as she shot him a small thumbs up, making sure Grace wouldn't see.

Grace's hair was still wet from the shower, her clothes had changed just slightly. Her pants were baggier, longer. There was a new t-shirt tucked under the same Needy Beasts sweatshirt she had been wearing earlier. Her hands curled into the sleeves, gripping the fabric tightly.

Despite the careful nature that was so unusual for Grace, she looked more comfortable. Moved more naturally.

Pete couldn't help but share in Stephanie's hesitant relief.

Grace stopped at the base of the stairs, staring at him. Looking like she wanted to say something. Looking like she wanted to run. Instead she remained stiff, even as Steph slid past her. Her arm hesitated, reaching out for Grace before dropping. Instead she offered the girl a lop-sided smile.

"Alright, come on. Let's get to watching whatever dry-ass fucking pick you have for a movie." Steph joked lightly, moving towards the couch as she flopped down right next to Pete.

Almost immediately she melted into his side, leaning into him like it was exactly where she belonged. The chill in his bones left. The hollowness filled in as he watched her grab the nearest blanket, tossing it over both of them.

Leaving just enough room on the other side for a 3rd person.

Grace was still standing at the base of the stairs. Frozen. Still just watching them. Pete may have gotten better at reading people, despite how unfamiliar he was at needing to do so, but the faraway look in her eyes was something more than he could understand.

All he knew was that it was the same reason she seemed so relaxed in clothes that weren't her own. The same reason she had lied to them all the night before.

Digging around in the couch cushion next to him, Pete uncovered the remote he had lost earlier in his tears. He let himself have a moment to memorize the stars on the screen. Then, without a word, he backed out of the movie he had watched easily a dozen times.

Star Wars could wait for different day.

His hand extended, the remote going with it. An invitation Pete could only hope that Grace would take. Her eyes flicked to it, before turning to the TV. The recommendations flashed by, reflected in her wide eyes. It took longer than it should have for Pete to realize how strange it must've been for her. He remembered the stories she told at Abstinence Camp. Remembered the lectures on modern media he had purposefully tuned out in the past. All delivered with a naivety, like the information she had received was all passed down in second hand accounts.

"What if," Grace's voice was quiet as she continued to stare at the TV, avoiding both of their eyes. "what if we just let Steph pick?"

"Oh, fuck yeah."

Steph snatched the remote from his grip with a force not required for how close they were sitting. Rolling his eyes, Pete noticed Grace flinch. He watched her carefully, realizing it wasn't the language that had set her off. Her body was once again tense, as if waiting for something. Like a string wound tight, waiting to snap. Like she had heard a loud noise, one that she wasn't certain wouldn't return.

"Grace?"

Her eyes met his. For a moment, they flashed in irritation. Flashed in colors that Pete would've sworn didn’t exist in the room.

"You going to come sit down or what?"

Like the spots in his eyes from the stars, the expression faded. Her eyes came back from the brink of wherever they had been. After a moment, she nodded, making her way stiffly over to the couch. Taking a moment to consider her options, Grace took the space Steph had left for her. Her back was straight, her hands folded in her lap. Steph looked up at him with a smirk, stretching out just slightly. The movement was enough to nudge the edge of the blanket closer to Grace. After a few more moments of pretending to search for something to watch, the bait was taken. Grace flipped the blanket onto her lap, leaning back just slightly into the cushion of the couch as she sighed impatiently.

Pete didn't need to see Stephanie's face to know exactly the cocky smile that was on it. He leaned down to gently kiss the top of her head, whispering as he did so.

"Next time you're watching Star Wars."

"Whatever, nerd."

Her point was emphasized with a sharp jab into his side. Laughing, Steph sat up and back, adjusting herself to rest closer to Grace. To both of their relief, Grace didn't flinch at the closer contact.

"Ok, so what's off limits?"

"Cursing, satanism, alcoholism, drug use-"

"Ok, so literally every action movie and horror movie ever made."

Grace shrugged.

"I hear romantic comedies usually aren't too offensive?" She offered quietly.

It was Pete's turn to groan. He had been forced to see almost every single one available on every streaming service thanks to Ruth. Something he wasn't exactly willing to retread tonight.

"Alright, you know what? I have an idea."

It took a change of services, but Steph pulled up a classic they could all agree on. Despite it being a bit early for the season, not a single protest was raised about watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It was a children's movie, with a simple and easy plot to follow. It had a happy ending. It was safe and familiar.

It was perfect.

Before long, Steph had spread out across his lap and Grace's both. Grace herself had fallen asleep not long after the movie started, her gentle snoring drawing a relieved sigh from both Steph and Pete. As the movie ended, another stop motion classic began to play. Pete missed the title screen, lost to the way his own blinks were growing slower and slower. Steph's body was warm, and Grace's snores were steady.

It had been a long day. Following an even longer night. Not a single person in the house was alright, all of them having been broken and snapped. Left to live in a world that could never fully understand just what they had been through.

A nerd, a prude, the mayor's daughter.

Even in a world as magical as the one on the screen, where Santa existed, where Reindeer could fly and elves could choose dentistry over toy-making, Pete wouldn’t have believed they would ever have any reason to find comfort in each other.

And yet, as his eyes drooped and Steph snuggled further into his side, pulling Grace even closer to herself, Pete realized this was what was real. Time would always keep moving forward, but now, Pete would take care not to let it pass him by.

***

Grace came back to her body to find Steph's arm wrapped in her own. Found her head resting against her chest. Staring at the mop of hair, she tried to remember where she was. As she began to recall the events of the day, Grace noticed Pete laying in Steph's lap, his glasses askew. The room was dark, the tv paused with a message asking if anyone was still there.

Her mouth was dry. Her head pounded worse than it had before. The suffocating pressure of another body on top of her own was suddenly too much. It felt familiar. Grace peeled herself out of the tangle of limbs, standing just away from the couch. Just above the others.

It felt like no matter how much she tried, she couldn't catch her breath. Her head never stopped pounding. With every sharp inhale it thudded, hurting more and more. The entire house was silent, her breathing loud and echoing.

The laughter was louder.

She couldn't get sleep. She couldn't be awake. She couldn't be alone. Couldn't be with others.

Grace no longer knew which voice was hers. Had no other choice than to listen to the one that was the loudest. The one that was providing ideas. Solutions. Ways to fix this. How to stop it. Whatever attempt at a new normal had failed. There had to be something else to try. Something else to do.

The suggestions she was hearing contradicted themselves in a back and forth pattern, leaving spots in her eyes and her stomach churning. In some attempt at regaining clarity, Grace forced herself to stop the stuttering in her chest. Forced herself to take a breath. To blink. To exist again outside of her head. She found herself no longer in the living room. Instead, she was standing in the center of an unfamiliar kitchen. There was only one light on. The low buzz of its electricity hummed above the sink. It's cold LED glow cast dark shadows over the tiled floor.

It felt sterile. It felt calm. The voices had left, her breathing steadied.

There was something she could do. And it started here. Robotically Grace moved to the drawer. Despite the entire place being large and foreign, humans tended to keep the same habits. Tended to store things in a similar and convenient place.

The silverware was under the largest stretch of countertop space.

Brushing past the forks and spoons, Grace's hand searched and found a dark black handle. The metal glinted as she drew the blade out. In the shadows of the room, the stainless steel almost seemed to shine black. The laughter in her head rang out in the dead silence of the house.

It could be over soon. All Grace had to do was listen. All she had to do was decide.

Her steps resumed. Tracing back through the hallways she didn't remember walking down. Back to the gates she had crossed earlier. The entrance of a place she never belonged.

In the past, Grace had clung to scripture. Had clung to the speeches of priests, to the blog posts of those who had dedicated themselves to piety. It was the words she could use to live by. Rules to follow. A destination Grace was set to go, and destined to guide others to.

Through the noise in her head, the laughter, the voices, the instructions and lies, Grace couldn't recall where she had heard the poem now playing through her head on repeat. Still the words came easily. They flowed out of her mouth in a quiet prayer as she opened the door.

What does it matter the journey, when the destination is the same?
What does it matter the path, when life becomes pain?
Can the ending be considered an escape, if ending is the only fate?

The night air was cool. The beginning of winter had crept into the breeze, freezing the tips of Grace's fingers as they tightened around the handle of her knife.

She had stumbled out into the middle of the yard. Her eyes were on the blade in her hand. Grace knew there was a party happening tonight. The details were whispered in the hallways, before the pretense was dropped. Before it was discussed openly in front of her. In front of everyone. The killer was dead. The spree had been stopped. It was something to be celebrated.

There would be plenty of others there. Any number of them sinners. Any one of them would be sufficient.

Her gaze shifted, just slightly, to the skin now showing on her wrist. Where the sweatshirt she had been given pulled back.

It was just another means to an end. Another way to silence the voices.

Grace stood in the yard, frozen. The world was finally quiet. The voices had stopped. The laughing. Everything waited.

The door slammed open behind her. There was one other person left without an answer.

And Grace knew she wouldn't wait.

***

"What the hell are you doing, Chasity?!" Steph snapped, fighting back her urge to lunge forward and tear the obvious answer from her.

After everything they've been through?

She was going to put them through that too?

Grace didn't blink. Didn't seem to acknowledge her.

The knife in her hand trembled, though her grip remained tight. No light reflected from it as the darkness of the night seemed to meld into the very metal itself. Steph wanted to reach for it, to steal it away. To toss it away somewhere far and forgotten.

"What does it matter Steph?"

"Um, I don't know? Maybe it matters to your parents, or your weird church friends. Or maybe me? The one out here chasing you down?!"

Grace mumbled an answer under her breath, a prayer she couldn't hear. Maybe it was too quiet. Maybe it was the ringing in her ears.

"What?"

Maybe she didn't want to hear it.

Grace finally looked at her. Her eyes were wide, full of emotions. So much different from the night on the field. Not better. Or worse. Just different. Her entire body swayed before she fell to her knees, still looking at Steph. Still clinging to the knife.

At least she was talking.

Steph just had to keep her talking.

"Why?" The question got caught in her throat. Her hand went to swipe at her eyes as they burned.

When did she start crying?

"Steph-" Grace started, staring at it. Staring at her.

"Why'd you do it?! Last night. I told you to run." Her hands clenched at her side. Grace had never listened to her.

Why couldn't she just listen then? Just one time. Before any of this had to happen.

"I had to fix it." Grace answered quietly.

It was incomplete. Steph knew it was. She took a step forward, sitting roughly down right next to Grace. She ignored the way the girl flinched. Ignored the tears now falling freely into her lap. She waited.

"The murders, the hiding, the running." They didn't look at each other. "That... desire. I wanted it gone. I wanted him gone. I didn't want him to take anything else."

"He took your virginity. They did." Steph spoke plainly.

It was what she cherished most. If it hadn't been, Max wouldn't have been gone. It was what she cherished most, and once it was claimed all that had been left was whatever hollow shell was sitting next to her. Whatever hollow shell that was left of her friend.

Steph wanted to kill them.

"He would've killed you." It was barely a whisper. "And Pete."

Steph didn't care, she should've cared. She leaned over and rested her head on Grace's shoulder. Grace froze underneath her.

Steph didn't care.

After a moment, Grace shifted. Her head turned into Steph's, her nose burying itself into her hair. She felt more then heard it when Grace spoke next.

"Part of me wanted it." Grace said. It felt like an offering, like the weakest point of an argument that Steph figured she was probably losing.

As if, with her permission, somehow it would become ok.

"I've been damned a long time Steph..."

"Well. That makes 2 of us."

Grace laughed. It was messy and unexpected. It caught in her nose as she snorted, turning her cheek against Steph's head as she melted further into her body. The ground finally stopped moving.

It was weird.

It was weird to be out in the middle of her yard, sharing this moment with Grace Chasity of all people. It was weird that Steph was crying, that Grace wasn't. It was weird and it was new and it was annoying. Steph roughly grabbed Grace's hand, tucked neatly in her lap as it always was. She wormed her fingers through her palm until the knife that had been clutched in it dropped onto the ground below.

Steph hoped it got lost in the grass. She held Grace's hand tight, feeling every tremor rocking its way through her body. Squeezing it as if her grip alone could stop the shaking.

"How are you not scared?" Grace whispered.

"I'm fucking terrified." Steph said plainly.

"Of hell?"

It was Steph's turn to laugh.

Those things we summoned. Max. I'm scared to live alone. I'm scared I've lost you. I'm scared you lost yourself.

"Of everything." She shrugged.

"I don't think I can keep waiting."

Her voice was cold again. Her body. Steph fought against it.

"Waiting for what?"

"What comes next." Grace said. As if that answered anything.

Suddenly Grace's prayer from earlier was clear.

What does it matter the journey, when the destination is the same?

"I hear them Steph." Grace spoke so quietly her words were nearly swept away in the light breeze of the night.

"They can't have anything else." Steph's heart thudded dully, painfully against her chest.

"I think... they want me."

"Too bad." She growled. Grace sounded a little too resigned.

"Why?"

Why was it so genuine?

Steph sat up, her hand still gripping Grace's, not letting go.

"What do you mean 'why'?" Steph snapped. "Because they're fucked."

An empty blink.

"I think I'm fucked too."

"You're annoying. And preachy. And you know waaay too much about how to get rid of a body, but you aren't fucked Grace." Steph growled. She didn't mean to, but Grace's face was blurred through her own tears. "You're human and you got scared and panicked. So what, you had a crisis over being horny? Guess what, now you're just like the rest of us. It fucking sucks but we keep going."

"You don't understand Steph, I'm going to hell. No matter what I do. I made a deal with them. I lost my chastity. They're saying they could help. I could make it so you and Pete, you wouldn't have to worry about anyone else-"

"Shut up."

Steph's voice was low. Lower then it had ever gone. It worked. Grace shut up.

Steph wiped her tears away, ignoring the streak of black now coating the back of her hand. She was able to see again. See that the emptiness was gone from Grace's eyes. See that she was afraid.

Damn it.

Steph pulled her to her feet. Grace was lighter than she expected, moved too fast. Maybe she had pulled harder than she intended. The momentum was too much. Grace got to her feet and kept going, crashing into her chest as Steph reflexively let go of her hand. Her arms moved to support her.

To catch her.

They wrapped around Chasity's back as her fingers tangled themselves into the baggy sweatshirt she used to own. Grace didn't move. Didn't pull away or push against it. Instead she buried further into Steph's chest, her face burrowing deep into the flannel.

"I just want the laughing to stop." Grace cried, her voice pathetic and wet.

Steph squeezed. Crushing Grace as if she could fold the other girl into her. To fill the hole inside she knew was only growing deeper. The one Grace was terrified of falling into. The one she had resigned herself to consuming her.

"We'll make it stop. That's why we have our nerd, right?" Steph reassured her quietly. Maybe she didn't fully believe it. Maybe she was just as terrified. "We'll fix this Grace. We'll fix it."

Grace had asked what the journey mattered. It was a stupid quote from what Steph was sure was an even stupider bible verse.

To Steph, the answer was obvious. It had been, the entire time. From the moment they sat gathered around the book in the gym. The destination was never what mattered. They weren't there yet. They were still in the journey. And it sucked. It was terrifying and annoying. Every time it felt like they made progress, some new horror would appear. Some new pain to be carved into her chest. Pain that Steph knew both Grace and Pete shared.

The journey mattered because it was one they were taking together.