Shelby stirred. "Hmm?" she moaned. "Trev..or? Wha's...What's goin' on?"
Trevor cringed and closed his eyes.
"Oh, God," said Elliot, and ran his fingers through his scalp.
"Whe'm...Where'm I?" Shelby looked and sounded drunk. The drugs had worn off barely enough to just bring her out of unconsciousness. "So...so-so..cold. Where'sm coat?"
"Jesus, Trev," Elliot whispered to his brother. "You've got to call it off."
Trevor shoved his brother away and pulled the remainder of the tape from his pocket. He stormed over to Shelby and knelt beside her. He cradled her head in his lap and laid his jacket across her body. "Here you go, ladybug," he said. She looked up at him with half-closed eyes and grinned. She snuggled up against his chest.
"Tankie," she cooed. "But don' call me that no more, okay? We...we jus' friends now, 'member? No more ladybug. Jus' Shell."
A tear ran down Trevor's cheek, and he pulled out the tape. "That's not true, ladybug," he said. "You just had a bad dream. Now go back to sleep."
Her eyes were closed, but she was still grinning. "Is okay," she mumbled. "We jus' friends, but I still love you. Is okay." And with that, the drugs reclaimed her.
Trevor hesitated, but fought through his conflictions and stretched a piece of tape across her mouth. He pressed her head against his chest with one hand and pinched her nose shut with the other.
At the edge of the clearing, Elliot was pacing circles. His hands were restless. They wanted to do something, but they didn't know what, so they gripped his shirt or pulled his hair or scratched his shoulders. He couldn't take his eyes away from what was happening. When Shelby's body jerked, Elliot finally lost it, and charged his brother.
He tackled him, and they both rolled around the frozen ground, swinging punches and kicking. They did this until both of them were on their backs, bloody and crying and breathless. And in the quiet that followed the battle, sirens filled the air. Collecting his breath, Trevor was able to say, "That fucking little shit."
"Shit, Trev," gasped Elliot. "What're we going to--?"
Before he could finish, Trevor grabbed the tip of the rifle and slammed the butt of it against his brother's temple, knocking him out. Cars could be heard out in the road, and so could slamming doors and shuffling feet. Trevor kissed his brother on the head, then, not taking his eyes from Shelby's heaving body, put the gun under his own chin and pressed down on the trigger, no longer wanting to be a bad guy.
--And I'm done.