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She grabs the bottle of suppressants off her nightstand and doubles her dose as a precaution.
It’s possible they won’t work, though.
“Anything’spossible,” she grumbles out loud. “They could nuke the city tomorrow. Who knows?”
“And if my plans go to shit, you’ll be the last person I see when I die.”
She shivers. She’s a part of this now.
After swallowing the suppressants, she walks over to her small bedroom window and pulls back the curtain.
She has a decent view of her surrounding neighborhood. Usually there’s a consistent line of cars on the overpass, along with a busy parking lot at the fast-food restaurant down the street.
But there’snothing.
All the cars are abandoned, some with their doors flung open. The restaurant is dark.
She’s surprised her power is still on.
How long before they cut the electricity or water supply to the city?
She tries her best to ignore the thoughts and pulls on the clean sweatpants, the fabric tickling her legs.
The suppressants will do their job, eventually.
Crawling under the covers, she curls up into a ball and wills this all to be a bad dream.
* * *
Hazel wakes up still exhausted,groaning as she kicks the blankets off. The light streams in from the curtain, shining in her eyes.
Maybe she could hang out with Ava today and get out of the house…
It all comes back.
Ava’s not here. No one is here except for Abel.
Who, judging by the smell of food, is cooking.
It’s all so domestic, and shehatesit.
She considers tampering with the window, but the size isn’t big enough for her to crawl out of.
The only way to escape him is through the front door, and she doubts she would make it far.
Besides, he has her keys and ruined her phone.
Asshole.
She stays in bed as long as she reasonably can, despite wanting to barricade herself in her room forever.
Eventually, she stands at the door, exhaling sharply as she unlocks it and turns the knob. She pads down the hallway and stops when he comes into view.
He doesn’t notice her, his attention at her tiny kitchen. He’s not in his sweatshirt anymore, just a plain black shirt that shows off his chiseled arms. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he flips something in a sizzling pan.
She commits the image to memory.
He’s also changed his pants. The cut of the new trousers hangs lower on his hipbones, showing off a sliver of pale skin and the sharp V of his hips.
