Realizing her mistake soon enough Victoria chased after his back. Her short legs struggled to match for his long strides, but thankfully he stopped a short distance away to rummage through one of his backpacks. Grabbing some fluffy towels, a change of clothes, and a bottle of the honey lemon soap he had stolen earlier, he had all but dumped it into her arms and sent her off towards the bathroom. She was a bit nervous to go back there especially in the dark as all the lights and music had been shut off.

"Don't worry, I'll be right outside. There might not be a shower but you could still use the water to clean up a bit."

Now that he had mentioned it she became conscious of the state she was in. Much like how one doesn't normally think about their own breathing, once someone brought it up it came rearing to the front of their mind. Victoria had gotten so occupied with everything going on that she didn't even notice how filthy she was. She was covered in gunk in all sorts of places. Her plain white t-shirt had been splattered as if someone had made a print of Jackson Pollock's work in red. 

An experimental flex of her arms sent a ripple of small cracks down the thin coat of crusted blood on them and another of her toes made her back shiver in disgust at the feeling of semi-congealed blood and other stuff she would really rather not think about, nor identify.

So with liberal use of soap, she started on her task of cleansing herself. The water was incredibly cold, sharp and biting, nothing like the one back at her house. She held back a sigh as she watched the water turn a rusted brown as she scrubbed down her arms. Pulling her shirt over her head carelessly she tossed it away in the trash along with her pants. They were a designer outfit that she had brought just recently, but now nothing more than red stained rags. Now clad only in her bra and underwear she took her time, carefully making sure to get every trace of filth off her  

Next, she started on her beautiful long hair and placed it underneath the running water. Like digging for treasure, the more layers of dirt and grime she unearthed, the more strands of spun gold was found shining underneath. However, it seemed almost as if it was buried deep within the mantle of the Earth because there seemed to always be more.

It was as if she was washing out a persistent cheap dye, the red kept coming out no matter how hard she rubbed. Victoria had thick clumps of red gunk piled underneath her nails. The overwhelming heavy smell of iron was palpable in the air and she had to bite back a gag.

The sink had clogged from a mixture of the bits of dried blood and strands of hair and water was starting to fill it up quickly. While the drain was a bit disgusting, the sink was deep and the water still clear. Placing her long hair under the water was obviously going to take forever so she just took a deep breath and dunked her entire head into the sink beneath the flow and rubbed furiously. Tendrils of rich crimson spread out from around her hair like a fiery halo. 

It was strange being underwater. Although Grey had told her about how they had to be careful with how much noise they made least they attracted zombies to them, that had never stopped them from quietly having conversations. Even in the dark bathroom, she could still hear the running water and the sound of him humming from just beyond the doorway. Now, however, she could scarcely hear a thing besides the beating of her own heart. Strong and steady, the small engine of life beating within her chest drowned out everything else.  

As she relaxed to its melody, the strands of red began to disperse until there was a darkening cloud of red filling up her vision. It stung her eyes and she closed to hurry and finish cleaning up, but moments after she closed her eyes, a rotten face appeared in her vision.

It had a horrible appearance. 

One of its eyes was missing and the empty socket was filled with worms, some as long as her entire hand. They crawled out and wavered in the wind as if seaweed dancing in the wind. On its head were wispy stands of thin hair connected to strips dripping skin, as if someone had attempted to scalp them and was too lazy to finish halfway through. The skin a yellowish green as if a mold covered mummy had been freshly uncovered from its tomb, its lone eye spun and rattled in its socket as if its skull was a magic 8 ball. Suddenly it came to a stop and stared directly at here. Its head jerked directly at her in an unnatural angle and a blood-covered grin was directed at her before it pounced.

Her eyes snapped open and she tried to let out a scream, but soon found herself violently choking on the water she inadvertently swallowed. Victoria found felt panic seizing her as she quickly backpedaled and slipped on a puddle she had caused in her panicked flailing.

Wheezing for air she did her best to expel the water that had gotten into her airways. Her nose burned something fierce as she got it out through all her passageways and all but puked over herself. A rancid taste filled her tongue. Her knees grew weak until they collapsed under her and she laid on her side shivering as she held herself, unminding of the growing pool of bile and tainted water around her. She felt tired and weak.

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She... Couldn't do this. She looked exactly as she felt: Pathetic. Save Julia? Don't make her laugh, she couldn't even save herself. How many zombies are out there? How long will this last? How was she going to survive this?... And did she even want too? What was the point? The world has ended. Julia was most likely already dead, the only quest was whether she was on the ground or walking around. She will never see anyone again, never finish her degree, never go bungee jumping, never get married, never have a kid...

Countless regrets and wishes filled her mind, as numerous as stars in the star, as uncountable as the undead outside this small damp safe haven she found herself in.

No, she couldn't do this. Her blank eyes caught a gleam of light from a shard of the mirror. She must've broken it during her panic. Perhaps... She reached a hand over to a particularly large and sharp shard. A glance at her hands made her puzzled. Had her hands always been like... This? Small, soft, smooth... and utterly weak. Lacking strength to even to protect or do anything. To even live.

Yes, it doesn't matter if she died, it wouldn't make a difference, not to Julia, not to her parents in South Carolina, not the world.

And certainly not herself.

She should just end it here and now, save herself the pain and struggle. At least this way she could die with some dignity as herself instead of a mindless monster. Yes, just a couple inches. It'll be quick, like a paper cut across the carotid arteries. She'll bleed out in minutes and escape this hell. Yes, that sounded nice. She heard that it would be like going to sleep! Some people even say it feels good before the end.

And it'd all finally be over. This nightmare would end.

Sorry Julia, but your friend is a coward, you saved me for nothing... I can't do this, not by myself.

Just one quick motion and everything... Would be over.

...

So why was she hesitating? There was no hospital nearby, just her and Grey. What were the chances he was a doctor? No, even if he was what could he do with no medicine? No tools? He wouldn't be able to help her. He couldn't save her as he did before...

Thousands of thoughts raced through her head, yet one resonated loudly through as the answer of her predicament. She was afraid.

She heard footsteps coming. It was Grey. He would be here any moment now so she had to do it soon. Come on! Just do it! Yet no matter how much she yelled inside her heard her hand wavered hesitantly. He was rounding the corner, now or never!

"Victoria! Are you alright? What happened?"

She couldn't do it.

Grey knelt down next to her in concern even as the disgusting pool of her vomit soaked his pants and seeped into socks and shoes. A shame, they were quite a nice pair too, she thought idly before something tore out of her throat.

A broken-hearted laugh, full of mock and self-derision. 

Her grip on the broken glass increased until it bit into her palms. The tiny sudden flow of blood greatly startled the man who didn't bat an eye even while painting the walls of the mall red with the undead. He ripped off his scarf as if its touch burned and wrapped her hand in it. While large, the care used in its making ensured that the makeshift bandages didn't feel clumsy. He tossed the glass away and shifted his body in a subtle way so that she couldn't reach for any more without going around him.

He worked in silence and didn't ask her any more questions after seeing her not reply. Turning off the overflowing sink he kept an eye on her as he went to retrieve what remaining clean towels were there. She didn't respond and sat against the wall she was placed at like a puppet with its strings cut.

After cleaning the glass he sat next to her and checked for any more wounds before washing her. His eyes and hands didn't wander even as she sat there in nothing but her underwear. She wouldn't have stopped him. Wouldn't have cared if he did anything to her at this moment. Then again a girl covered in blood and vomit probably wasn't very appealing. 

He finished cleaning her and tossed the towel away before kneeling next to her once more. They simply stayed there for a few moments, but a large hand plopped onto her head. The sudden weight surprised her and when she looked up she only saw Grey eyes, a look of understanding, void of the judgment and condemnation she had been expecting.

He had worked so hard to save her, and she goes and repaid him by trying to die in a corner when he wasn't looking. He should've been disgusted with such a woman, she knows she was. 

"It'll be alright. Everything will be fine. You're safe now." He said as if he was trying to comfort a child who scraped his knees instead of someone in the middle of the apocalypse. And yet it was effective just the same, as if his words weren't empty promises but held the weight of convictions enough to change the world. 

A fresh wave of shivers racked down her spine and he pulled her close. She had thought she had cried enough for this life when she was determined to die, but somehow more kept flowing like a leaking faucet.

She clung to him like a lifeline and knew her nails had to have dug painfully into his back, but he never let out a single complaint and held her close anyways.

"I'm scared," Victoria sobbed into his chest. The muffled words were understood regardless. He tightened his grip around her, his arms caged around her as his chin rested on her crown as if sheltering her from the cruel world outside. "I don't know what to do." She finished in a whisper.

"It'll be alright," Grey repeated, and Victoria could feel the vibration of his voice rumbling in his chest. He gave her a reassuring squeeze as he continued. "I'm here now. I will always be here for you. I'll figure this all out. I'll come up with a plan, so just follow me, ok?"