DRIVE WEST

FOURTEEN - Other Monday

"Why didn't you look for me?" Asked Sawyer.

Monday's entire body trembled with fear and anxiety, "I looked for you every single day. I didn't know—"

"You could have done more, Mon. If you weren't so busy with your personal life."

Monday lost control as her face became ugly with tears and emotion, "I'm so sorry, Sawyer."

"Did you even love me?"

"I— I don't know."

"So this was all a job to you."

"No! It wasn't!"

"Don't lie, it'll only make things worse."

"I'm not lying!"

He pushed her, "I trusted you." She cried out to him desperetly but he only shook his head, "You're the reason we're all dead."

Feyre shook her shoulders, "Mon. Monday." She tried firmly.

Monday gasped and awoke in a jump. She was sitting on a chair inside the van, amongst the computers with Feyre and Eliott.

She realized she was sweating and looked around to check if the venting system was on, "Sorry." The nightmares were getting worse. Her body had been transformed into something not human: She had become 70% liquid worry and her organs had the shape of guilt and fear. Her insides became a playground of breakable toys being thrown around carelessly by children.

Feyre nodded and felt bad for her friend, but did her job, "I know this sucks." She paused, looking at Monday with her big brown eyes and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, "But you have to go back to the flower shop. It's been two days and Zen Charlotte has a family business to run, with or without her boyfriend."

Monday looked at her bitterly in return and swung her shoulder aggressively to free her of Feyre's apathetic touch. They exchanged a long unfriendly look before Monday walked out of the car without saying a word.

As she stepped into that flower shop, she felt everything around her move in slow motion. Her eyes slowly glanced at the frail plants, hydrated and vigorous-- the drops of water resting on their petals like they had fallen asleep. The small insects doing their duties, the whole world was moving on except for her.

She put her apron around her neck and let in hang over her chest, and a picture of Sawyer popped into her mind: Laying on the ground with both eyes open cold, only one of his eyeballs were missing, and in its place walked worms and maggots while he smiled holding a polaroid. She shook her head to try to impede the thought, but for the last two days it had become the only image she saw when she closed her eyes.

She wrapped the apron behind her back and walked around watering the corridors of lilies and sunflowers.

Barely blinking, she heard the sound of the bell over the entrance ring, announcing a customer.

A memory played in her mind like a hologram of reality once again: The boy walked in like he owned the place. It was summer, but he wore a black leather jacket and grey plaid pants; even though he was inside, he kept his sunglasses on.

His curled brown hair and polished smile--

"Hello?" The man called, interrupting her fantasy. Monday looked at the door and shook her head once more.

She turned a corner looking for the man who needed help. "Yes—"

She looked at the smiling grown man in a black suit, taking his sunglasses off and looking at her from top to bottom, studying her silhouette. She could recognize that crooked smile anywhere. "How you doin', sugar? How 'bout those roses today?"