CORONA

Day 13

Day 13

It has been confirmed that four patients with the virus did not show any symptoms, and were gone undetected by any testing.

Mason's eyes flies open and he attempts to push me off. "What the fuck are you doing?" He chokes around my gripped fingers.

"Stay still," I snap. I squeeze my hand tighter around his throat.

He squirms underneath my grip until he's able to push me off. He scrambles out of the bed, gasping for breath. "What the hell?"

Mason's eyes are wide in bewilderment as he stares at me and rubs his throat. "What the f-"

I advance towards him.

He scampers back in confusion and closes his own door. By the time I've opened it, he has opened the door to the apartment.

"Mason, wait!" I call him. He falters to look back at me for a moment before turning and racing down the stairs. I chase after him barefoot. "I said, wait!"

He makes it to the second flight before I jump forward from the top of the stairs and push him, sending both of us falling down the steps.

My blood surges with adrenaline as my body finally rolls to a stop at the foot of the stairs. His head hits hard against the wall and he lets out a barely-audible groan.

I quickly stand up, taking the opportunity to slam his head against the wall, injuring him a second time.

Mason's mouth opens to cry out, but he doesn't make a sound. His arms comes up to my face before falling, his eyes looking dazed and distant.

"Can't you listen for once?" I growl impatiently. If only he hadn't fought me back in his room, things would've ended quickly.

I move his arm across my shoulders and pick him up. He's quite heavy and his slumping weight isn't helping. No matter. I pull him up the stairs with me, shifting his weight onto my body.

I give up halfway up the steps. I stand behind him and hoist him up by both shoulders, his feet dragging and hitting each step.

A door opens on the fourth floor and Mrs. Flores peeks her head out.

"Hi, Mrs. Flores!" I say breathlessly. "How's Juan?"

Her smile wavers as she frowns up at us. "He's doing good..." She answers in her thick Hispanic accent. "What's going on?"

"Mason's drunk."

"Oh no," she says, the look of judgement weighing heavily on her eyes. "You shouldn't allow him to do that anymore."

"Juan has fucked every girl in this neighborhood, so I wouldn't be too quick to judge." I say it casually, but she flinches back as if I had slapped her.

She spits a few angry words in Spanish. My heart races with adrenaline and I contemplate whether I should leave Mason here and deal with her first.

Before I can decide, she scoffs and slams her door shut.

I continue to pull him up the stairs and through our opened door. I slide in all the locks to prevent him from running away again, double checking to make sure they're secured in place.

When I turn, he's gone.

"Mason?" I laugh. "Don't be stupid, okay? Just come out."

He isn't there in his room, the bathroom, or my room.

When I walk into the living room, Mason is standing there with a knife in his shaking hand. A streak of blood runs down the side of his head. I hadn't noticed it before.