ecstasy | corpse husband

chapter 10.

elowen estimates one hour has passed since she and corpse went their separate ways.

it wasn't until he was no longer visible on the street that her miserable mistake sunk in. she had let her emotions get the best of her, a fatal flaw of hers, and was now regretting it every second. her outburst did her no good, and she didn't even feel remotely better after it, either.

she felt terrible.

after he had left, the guilt truly sunk in. his reaction, or lack of one therefore, oddly stung her heart. It made her regret how she'd taken advantage of him. he'd done nothing but help her, save for some assholic moments. possibly for selfish reasons, she knows, but she is still alive because of him. he hadn't even scolded her but was so successful in making her feel awful about lying to him. she screwed him over.

It would pick at her for a while. if she's still around for much longer, that is.

It's very fortunate that the spot corpse brought her too, hiding behind the silver van, was far enough from the infected she'd announced her presence to. what she had done, yelling mason's name like that, had been incredibly dangerous for them both, but her hiding place here has proven safe enough. nothing had come to murder her.

ten minutes in, though, she takes a gamble and tries the door handle on the van. the sliding door gives, the car miraculously unlocked, and she plants herself inside the van and even locks it. she shouldn't be out there, at least while she's as painfully unprepared as she is now, and so hiding would be her only way.

and so for an hour, she's splayed across the back row seat, after shoving some McDonald's wrappers out of the way, and staring at the fabric roof of the van. she doesn't fall asleep; it's impossible to when she feels death around every corner. she just lies there and wallows in her every bad decision up to this point.

she nearly starts to cry when she brings herself to look out the window at the street again. the street where she and mason had their last good moment.

damn that pink buggy.

her brain starts to formulate multiple different theories about what could have happened to him. she considers the possibility that this isn't the street and there really is another pink beetle in this city. maybe he's just a few streets over and she's mistaken.

unlikely.

she considers the possibility that mason got into trouble. what if he was attacked? or contracted the virus? it makes her shake into a cold sweat, the chance that he's dead or even hurt somewhere unable to get help, but something doesn't fit into that equation. the car would still be here, wouldn't it? at the very least, he seems to have escaped seattle.

so chances are, he isn't dead.

It should make her flood with relief except that leaves one final option. mason is okay, mason got to the car safely, and mason drove off without waiting for her.

the most likely scenario.

the thought of this possibility is enough to make her curl into herself on the stiff, crumby seat of the van. mason ran away from her that night and didn't deem her important enough to him to ever go back and find her. to ever wait for her or answer one of her many calls when she needed him last night. to ever give a second thought to if she's okay right now or not. he only thought about himself, while she was here throwing herself into life-threatening situations trying to get to him.

the fact is the car is gone. she hates that this scenario makes the most sense.

even more, she hates that she wouldn't be able to help doing it again. if there was a sign of him, she'd leap for it. he has her unknowingly wrapped around his finger, at her own doing.