les jours tristes

For Allbingo's Cottoncandy Bingo Fest, for the square 'Carving/Drawing names/initials'. This ended up a lot more introspective than I anticipated, but hopefully it's still positive enough to fit the bill :)
 

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From the chaotic ride down the mountain and to the nearest hospital, Jess remembers nothing, except for a vague sense of triumph over—the mines, the monster, fate itself, whatever—and relief that she wouldn’t have to come back here ever a-fucking-gain.

She does anyway, eighteen months later. It’s not something anyone’s encouraged–in fact, everyone seems to think it’s a dumbass idea, and they’re probably right since she’s always been kind of a dumbass, but fuck it. She’s always gone for what she wanted, and what she wants right now is to stand atop the mountain and scream her victory to the world.

It’s weird, being back here. Not bad weird, just—weird. And, yeah, part of it is seeing the place in daylight, in summer, when everything is greener and brighter than it’s ever been before, but it’s more than this. Last time, the mountain was still lived on. Sure, it had been empty for a while, but empty’s not the same as abandoned. Now the path is all but gone, barely visible under the undergrowth, and there’s nothing left to mark the place where the house once stood, just a handful of steps leading to nowhere. But there’s other things instead: grasses and weeds and some red flowers Jess doesn’t recognize. Sam would probably find something poetic there—life after death, rebirth from ashes, all that shit—but Jess is just happy to get some fresh air, happy for the flowers and the birds and the sun through the trees. All around her the mountain is alive, breathing, healing, and it feels so good to know the place that almost killed her doesn’t really exist anymore outside of her nightmares.

She doesn’t push all the way to the cabin, doesn’t go to see if her old phone is still there somewhere, along with her coat and Mike’s, doesn’t go to see if the door’s been replaced or if she can still recognize the places where she was dragged through the snow, but she does make it halfway there, to the tree Mike carved a heart into like the fucking sap he is, and just below in rough pointy letters she adds:

Jess Riley lives, bitches!

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