Three Eleven Thirteen

Chapter Forty-Five

hi the epilogue is 3000 words oops prepare for that

Chapter Forty-Five

I feel nothing.

It has been nearly four hours since I was infected. Ellie has not left my side, but I do not fail to see the fear on his face.

Riley had told me that Joy had left when he told her to return to her parent's house and not to come back until he tells her to. I hate that our presence only divides them. I hate that we are here at all.

He is expecting the worst outcome. He expects me to go mad, just like the patients in the lab.

Ellie and I are locked in the attic. I know what Riley is waiting for. He's waiting for me to lose control, and then what? Will he kill me? Will I kill him and then myself?

I really feel no different.

I sit on the bed, and Ellie does not move his gaze off of me. I don't know what he's thinking, and I'm sure he's also waiting for me to slowly turn into an out-of-control monster.

All I feel is bored, and perhaps a little hungry.

I rest my head against the wall behind the bed and watch as Ellie stares out the window. His eyes move to me every few moments to make sure I don't magically become a monster in only seconds. I notice that when he catches my gaze, he quickly looks away, as if he can't even look at me too long without feeling bad.

I hate this.

I'm not scared of dying, I'm not scared of losing control because I know if I do Ellie would stop me.

I'm scared of leaving him alone. He'd have no one. I don't expect Riley to take care of him, I don't expect he'd throw him out on the streets either, but I can't depend on him, I know that.

"Ellie?" I speak, and his head whips over to face me, as if I was speaking my last words.

We blink at each other, and when he says nothing, I continue on, "I'm unsure if anything bad will happen to me, but I want to tell you something, just in case it does."

"Ripley."

"Yes?"

"I apologize, but I do not want to hear what you have to say."

I feel my eyes widen. He's never given such a bold order before. It catches me off guard. I'm almost impressed by his bluntness. "I think you need to hear it."

"I think, what you think is incorrect."

"We have to be rational. Something bad could happen to me." I didn't add the fact that it should have already happened.

"Rationality has no position in this situation." He's giving me a look that is so intent, but his words are beyond my recollection. I don't recall him every speaking so fluently about anything. "There is nothing rational in any scenario we have ever encountered. I should not even exist." I see him clench his jaw, and then un-clench it as if he were training himself not to say anything more.

I take the opportunity to defuse his worry by saying, "I don't think anything bad will happen to me. I am only taking a precaution."

"You are going to tell me what to do if you die."

"I," I pause, "Yes. I want you to be prepared."

"There is no point."

"Of course there is, I want you to know what to do. I don't want you to be alone or unsure."

"There is no point because I will be dead."

The room falls silent, and I see the promise in his eyes. If I die, then he will follow after. He said it not as a theory but as intuition as if it were a fact that I should have already known.

We stare at each other. At this moment, I have never been so desperately in love with him, and the thought of him hurting himself because I am not here only fuels my desire to be okay.

I refuse to leave him.

I climb to the side of the bed, reach out to him and grab his arm. At first, he doesn't move, but I slowly pull him closer to me onto the bed and he complies by sitting beside me on the mattress.

We are inches apart, and yet I want to be closer to him. I notice how uncomfortable he is, as if even touching me would set me into a fit of uncontrollable rage and self-destruction. I don't think he has accepted that I most likely am fine. I don't know how, I don't know why, I know there is an explanation, but right now that doesn't matter to me. As long as I'm okay and nothing will happen to me, then that is assurance that Ellie is okay too, and that's all that matters to me.

"I will be alright." I tell him, and I gently brush my fingers over his hand.

He stares at where I touched him, "I am not alright." His voice is so quiet that I barely heard him.

I frown, "What's wrong?"

"Fear." He takes a long breath, and I watch his eyes flicker to the window like he is uncomfortable under my gaze, "I do not like it at all."

"You don't have to be afraid."

"I am always afraid." He looks up at me now, "I did not realize it at first, but it is always. It is constant. I am constantly, and always afraid."

I restrain myself from reaching out to him, instead, I calmly ask, "Because of the blood?"

"Because of you."

"I scare you?"

He thinks about this before he responds, "Yes."

My heart is beating rapidly, "What do I do that scares you?"

"Everything."

"Do you wish to be away from me?"

He says nothing, and I am beside myself, anticipating his inevitable response, and yet it is not inevitable, because he does not respond at all. He is silent, and we stare at each other again, over and over we stare at each other as if that is an answer to anything. I am so tired of trying to understand what it is he is thinking, so I do not wait to find out, or if I find out at all.

I grab his face in my hands and pull his lips onto mine. I expected him to be surprised by this, but he acts as though he were waiting for it. He immediately pulls me onto his lap, and kisses me passionately back. Like he is starving, and I am starving, like I am not dying, or maybe I really am. My heart is screaming against my rib cage and I am in adoration with the feeling.

I push him back onto the bed, and he falls with fluency, keeping our lips touching whilst doing so. He refuses to let me go and I've no plans to defy that.

I am on top of him, and his hands are in my hair, and I can not imagine myself without him. My hand searches underneath his shirt and feel his heart beat against it.

I am intoxicated by him, and I think he feels the same about me.

After a while, I force myself to break apart from him, only to breathe, and because I had to ask, "Do you still wish to be away from me?"

He's also breathing heavy as he responds, "I wish to never part."

This causes me to smile, "Good, because you are stuck with me."

"Yes," He says, "Yes I am stuck with you, because I will not stop following you."

"Never do."

"No." He pushes me off of him, and instead climbs on top of me, "I don't think I was created to stop."

"You are my father's greatest creation."

"Ripley, I believe, in fact, you are his greatest creation."

I laugh, "Your flattery is awful."

"I wasn't made to lie."

For the first time in weeks, I see a glint in his eye that I thought never existed, a false memory that I convinced myself was true. A spark that brought my entire body to a halt. I see a light that is more human than any human has expressed, as if it is my father himself promising me that Ellie was made for me. I don't know what to make of it, I don't know how else decipher it. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck, and force him to kiss me again.