She wrapped the sleeping bag tighter around her body, snuggling into it. She liked to bury herself into the covers, pulling them around her mouth so that only her nose jutted out above the plush fabric. It was as much about comfort as it was about warmth. Both helped her sleep. On this particular night she felt in need of both more than usual. Not because she was going through a particularly traumatic experience or anything like that but simply because she was not in a comfortable place for sleeping. Camping was great until she wanted to go to bed. Then the hard, cold, lumpy ground and sleeping bag had to do. So she made the most of the sleeping bag.
But she felt weird about holding the fabric onto her mouth. It wasn’t hers – she’d borrowed it from her brother – so it just didn’t seem right. Yet it was a very cold night, even for October. So she pulled it tight around her neck. Tighter and tighter. Still she shivered. She yanked it hard, wrapping herself up like a cocoon or a fly in a spider’s web. Tighter and tighter around her neck.
Pop. Her head rolled free, leaving the stump of her neck bleeding into the edge of the sleeping bag.