VIRUS - Redemption

TWENTY-ONE

12.18.2038

"Elle."

I stared up at the ceiling, lying still, oblivious to the weight of Yassim's body pressing down on mine. I felt everything but that. I felt the blade still held tightly against my palm. I felt the cold air hitting my face, the puddle of water beneath me that she had made me lay down in. I felt her blood, slowly trickling down the side of my cheeks.

I felt everything.

This blackout wasn't the same as the one with Diaz. I remembered it. I remembered it because it was different; this wasn't an arm. I cut her throat. I ran my blade from ear to ear; I watched it open her up and watched the instant blood shower rain down over me. I watched her drop, I can still feel where her gun sat between my stomach and her chest.

This was different because I killed her, and I didn't think twice about it.

"What did you do, Elle?"

What I had to, I felt like saying.

Never underestimate a knife.

I felt sick. I felt small. I felt like the world had zoomed out and I was a speck in the universe; and somehow as a speck I valued my life more than hers. Suddenly, looking down at the world, I felt the weight of it come crashing down on my chest. Right now, the world was Yassim Yves.

I killed her.

"Get her off." I whispered, my chest beginning to close and my air beginning to run out. "Get her off."

"She's off, Elle. I took her off 5 minutes ago." Patrick said, bending over and appearing before the tiled roof, in front of my eyes. I swallowed, but it was hard. I felt like someone – something was holding me down. I couldn't get up.

"Get her off."

"No one's on you, Elle." Patrick insisted. I shakily looked down, my eyes afraid of what they would see, expecting the red hair at my chin. Instead, I found Yassim was in fact beside me rather than still lay dead upon me. I gulped, flicking my eyes back up at Patrick who was stood over me. "You need to get up."

"It was self-defence." I muttered as he grabbed me by the collar, pulling me up to sit. The world moved in slow motion, my eyes diverting anywhere but beside me where Yassim laid on her back. I dropped the knife onto the ground, it rang out against the tiles. "Self-defence."

"I put the knife in your pocket, Elle." Patrick ignored my rambling, pulling my arms up and above my head before grabbing the bottom of my sweater, tugging it up and off my body. I didn't fight it, I had no control over my body right now. My mind was in power; my mind took over everything, my vision, my hearing, my movement. I was scared. I was terrified. "You need to clean yourself." He said, grabbing under my arms and lifting me until I was on my feet, but my knees gave in.

"I can't."

"Please, Elle. Concentrate." He held me up, dropping the sweater to the ground. "I'm going to hide her, but I need you to concentrate. I'll help you, I promise I'm going to help you, but you need to help me first." He moved his head until my eyes found his, but it felt like staring at a wall. My whole being wanted to look beside me down at Yassim, but I couldn't bring myself to it. I knew what she looked like, I knew what I would see.

"She's dead." I held onto Patrick's jacket as he shimmied my pants down my legs, using my ankles to help me step out of them. I looked down, seeing my skin dyed with red; Yassim's blood had soaked through my clothes and was all over my body. I pressed my lips together, trying to not vomit as Patrick walked me underneath the shower head.