As if she were perplexed—as if she could see none of her own doing—Phoebe stood there, eyes on May. “What?” she asked. “You gonna fall asleep again or something?”

Hell hath no fury like Miss Mable Jessica Taylor in that moment.

“You have got to be kidding me!” With her fingernails dug into her palms, May stomped forward. She stopped just short of Phoebe, fighting the desire to plow her down.

“Don't tell me you forgot your SSRI back at the dorm and now I've gotta deal with a meltdown,” Phoebe said. She rambled it off like it was oh so casual. “It's fine. Eat some plants. One of them has to be Saint John's Wort or something.”

“No!” May's voice echoed throughout the empty space in the forest, occupied by no other but them. “Here I am all heartbroken and messed up—”

“And looking like it, too.”

“You offered to take me hiking with you and, stupid me, I went along with it because I thought you weren't going to be weird for once!”

Phoebe drew her head back. “Okay? What's that supposed to mean?”

That was when May kicked a pile of rocks which scattered all about. She didn't know why; it just felt good, yet pissed her off more that a little rock lodged its way inside of her shoe. “I don't want anything to do with your goddamn stories and your fantasy world and your fictional narratives and. . . and. . .” May let out one loud incoherent scream.

Covering her ears with both hands, Phoebe turned away.

“Learn to live in the real world!” May retorted. “Stop trying to put yourself into goddamn books and TikTok rabbitholes and. . . God! This is why nobody can stand you, I swear!”

“I. . .” But Phoebe's mouth hung open. Her body looked limp. “I'm. . . sorry?”

“No! You can't just apologize when you lured me out here to use me to be weird!”

“I didn't—”

“Shut up!” After assessing that she had all of her belongings, May stormed off, struggling not to trip and fall on what remained of her pride along the way. “I don't want anything to do with your books, your stupid 'files', and—”

“Did you want me to delete that episode of my podcast where you can be heard snoring and moaning in the background while you slept against the tree?”

Pausing, May stared her down, trying to obliterate her dorm-mate with her eyes alone.

“No wonder nobody else wanted to room with you!” May shouted. “Delete and block and unfriend me from your whole life, Phoebe!” Afterward, she tripped and fell, some of her belongings scattered. In the face of momentary humiliation, May gathered them and plowed forward.

With little sense of direction, she soon found herself lost in the woods.

Staring down at her phone, May saw that only 5% of battery life remained. When she got to an area of the woods that allowed her a whopping two bars of cellular data, she turned on her GPS app which was connected to her father's account; it was all to keep her safe, and she never knew it would come in such handy. Her phone battery dropped to 4%. Going to her texts, she fired one off to 'Sir Father' which was riddled with spelling errors and so frantic that she wasn't sure she could even make it out.

Battery life: 3%.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, May continued her way through the woods. Along the way, her heart beat up into her throat. Every snap of every twig and every single breath from her own mouth put her on edge. What if she was in danger out there? What if she would get abducted by some creep or eaten by a Grizzly bear? Did they even have Grizzly bears out there?

She had no clue.

“May. Are you listening?”

Turning over her shoulder, her heart did double-time. “Who said that?!”

No response. She checked her phone.

Battery life: 2%.

“Wake up, May. You have to wake up.”

Running at top speed—rather, whatever it was that top speed was for her—May shouted, “I'm awake, I'm awake, dammit!”

Dashing through the forest, the voice persisted in taunting her. “You must listen. You must wake up.”

“This isn't funny, Phoebe!” she shouted. In her distracted state, she didn't notice the embankment in front of her. May went forward, anticipating a hard fall.

And in that moment, she barely noticed it in her panic. Rather than fall, May sort of glided with the air. Her feet landed flat on the ground, despite the distance that she plunged downward. Looking back, she thought nothing of it at all.

That, my dear readers, is the moment that one Mable J. Taylor became character-worthy.