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Hellen, against her will and best intentions, has grown to regretfully respect and care for her host.
She is swiftly reminded of why this was a bad idea. Why she keeps all at arms length.
She had not meant to care for him. Sam. She never intended to dislike him, either- she expected to tolerate him. It wouldn’t do well to house with a man she despised. But Sam had a strange way of worming into the hearts of all he met. It was annoying. And it unfortunately had worked on her as well.
She didn’t think much of him at first. A miserable, middle-aged man using the apocalypse as a last ditch effort to do something with his life. She had ended up being wrong on most of those accounts. She’d been surprised to find out he was younger than her; those eyebags did him no favours. And while he certainly was miserable, he was nothing less than entirely selfless to a harmful degree. She suspects that martyr-like nature always resided in him, but never had a chance to reveal itself until now.
She had gone into his room once while everyone was asleep. While the front door was locked and windows covered, you could never be too careful. As the only one in the apartment who had lost all need for sleep, she spent the lazy hours of the room diligent, seated at the table, her many eyes always locked onto the front door, the bedroom door, or the children. They had proven themselves capable, but they were young, naive. She had not bonded with them the ways her housemates had, with the exception of Sammy, but she would still do her part as an adult of the house to protect them.
Of course, it was also curiosity that led her into Sam’s room. He had been very particular about nobody entering it. She understood the desire to keep some degree of privacy in such a crowded space. Understanding did not mean respecting, however. His room was as she had imagined, completely and depressingly bare. But one thing caught her eye. A plant seated by the door, clearly thriving despite the lackluster soil. That had impressed her. So she had him assist her with watering one of her plants back in her overgrown apartment. It was a bit disorienting with all of the extra rooms, but she didn’t let it show.
He’d done incredibly well. She couldn’t help but respect his gentle care for it. The way he had smiled at her each time showed another side to it, however. He enjoyed doing it with her. Spending time with her. Nobody had enjoyed her company for many years. She felt a pang of repressed loneliness at that, followed by something even stranger. She had enjoyed doing it with him as well.
So she had grown to care for Sam. She believes she can be forgiven for slipping up in such a way. He was unique. There was no person like him. He would die one day, and she hoped it would be by her hand to minimize his suffering. Somebody like Sam will never be happy. He is simply too good, too kind. He will die in agony protecting somebody else, or be torn apart after going to the roof for the cultists suicide plan.
She was half-right.
It was 10am when Sam left with Aster in tow. The astronomer had woken up first, and spent the morning reading some sort of book to the kids. He’d perked up after Sam woke up, but didn’t rush him.
He’d gone around saying good morning to everybody in the apartment, and made breakfast. He had gone all out. It was truly his best meal yet. Hellen savoured it. She knew it would be his last.
After that, Sam had said goodbye to everyone, Aster’s goodbyes reserved for the kids and Morton.
The two left, and hours passed. Sam returned alone, stumbling like a blind man, robe torn and tattered. He ripped it off and threw it toward the couch, and made a dash for the bathroom before anybody could get a word in.
She’d noticed it. She was sure everybody else had, as well. Sam likely hadn’t.
His left arm was back. He had been Cursed.
Nobody said a word after that. Even Leigh looked worried. They all stared at the door in silence.
Then it came. The screaming and audible thrashing. The door was slammed several times, and Papineau wasted no time dragging the couch in front. To Hellen’s surprise, nobody fled. The kids had been ushered into the bedroom by Audrey, but everyone else remained in the main room.
When the screaming stopped, it was Leigh who had made the first move. She walked up to the door, and rapped her fist against it.
“Heheheh... having fun in there, Sam?” Her tone didn’t hide the tremor in her voice, nor the fear in her eyes when Sam, or whatever had been left of him, responded with an inhuman shriek, slamming on the door again.
It was obvious what Hellen had to do. It was her duty to put him out of his misery.
That would have been impossibly easy. But Sam had caused her to go soft. The idea of killing something that used to be an ally she refused to call him anything more, because that would make it all too real made her stomach churn in a way she had grown unfamiliar with.
And his sanity hadn’t entirely depleted either.
“Hellen?” Sam’s voice is raspy. He’d mentioned quietly that he’d grown dozens of new mouths, which explained the faint echo. “The Visitor... it’s gone, right?”
“Correct.” This is a good day. Sam had returned to the apartment four days ago, and the Visitor had disappeared two days ago. She’s furious that she’ll never be able to enact revenge on it, but supposes she’ll find new outlets for her rage in this new world. Not yet, however. Sam’s state had improved, but he was still out of his mind most of the time. Today seems to be an exception.
He still remains locked in the bathroom. He’d insisted on it in his first moment of lucidity. Some of the others instantly wanted to let him out, but he warned them he felt his grip on sanity wavering, and he was right. Within minutes he was a mindless beast again, ramming himself against all the walls. She wonders how the building has managed to hold.
“Have you seen it? The outside?” He asks quietly. “It’s... really bad. I don’t think... I think we’re doomed.”
“...I have.” She isn’t sure how he expects her to respond.
They haven’t told him about Sybil yet, either. She’d expressed despair at hearing of what became of Sam, and told them when the Visitor would leave. But the morning of, she’d been gone without a trace. Hellen had broken into her apartment to find it empty, with barely a sign of life. All that remained was a gaping hole, as if something had torn through the wall and taken her. Something probably did. Telling that to Sam would do him no favours, so she had made sure her housemates would withhold the information from him until he was more stable.
The outside world was horribly unrecognizable. Hellen was no fool. The world as once known was over, through and through. But she’s reluctantly grown enough these past two weeks to understand that this is the last thing Sam would want to hear right now.
“Can you do me a favour? If...” He trails off. That had become a habit. She wonders if it’s guilt, or a result of his Curse. “The astronomers. I’m uh... not the only one who ended up like this.”
Hellen watches several people in the room perk up. Sam had very pointedly not mentioned anything about the ritual, and everyone had resisted the urge to pry. “...Continue.”
“Can you check on them? Make sure they’re... they’re not okay.” He cuts himself off. “But can you... check on them? And tell me what they’re doing? Please?”
Hellen did not want to. But if Sam asked, she would oblige. She would do many things to lower his stress, bring him back to who he was just a few days ago. She doesn’t like admitting that.
“Alright.” The curt response is all she says, yet Sam sighs in relief.
She gets up, wanting to get it over with. “Hellen?” She pauses. “...Thank you.”
She doesn’t bother responding. She can’t imagine Sam is surprised.
She intended to make the trek alone, but Papineau had decided to go with her. He hadn’t left much choice in the matter, and truthfully, she didn’t care. Others had wanted to go as well, but it was decided the apartment would be safest with the rest of them remaining. Over the past few days she and the janitor had learned to tolerate one another. He stayed out of her way, she stayed out of his.
She wastes no time dawdling after reaching the roof. Papineau stops in his tracks, and she simply overpasses him.
There are Cursed in every direction she turns. Thousands of legs, a screaming tornado of faces. She isn’t sure how Sam expects her to recognize those cultists.
She is uncharacteristically caught off guard by a snapping sound near her legs. She jumps back, pulling out her axe and preparing to swing at whatever monster had been foolish enough to think her easy prey. But she stops.
One of the cultists. It’s utterly unrecognizable now, a lump of legs, eyes, and maws. Piercing green eyes stare at her from one of the throats. That one in particular has arms, and a ragged hoodie draping its form. The original body, Hellen presumes.
It doesn’t seem to have any semblance of humanity in it. She thinks it used to be the one in the basement. The creature snaps at her again, shoving itself away from her and into a corner, and she walks past it.
Two weeks earlier, she wouldn’t have thought twice about killing it. But it seems powerful, and she is ill-equipped to fight it alone right now. That wouldn’t have mattered before, but now she has people, regrettably, depending on her.
Sam surely knows what became of them. Perhaps he sent her up in hopes they regained lucidity like him. Unfortunate that she would have to return to him with bad news.
She sees another Cursed up some steps, looking completely out of its mind. She intends to pass by, but she’s struck by a realization that momentarily roots her in place.
...
She recognizes it.
It’s a grotesque, bizarre thing that looks as if it came out of a child's dreams. If it was not for that ridiculous amulet it once called a good luck charm, she would not have given it a second glance.
It doesn’t even look up at her as she approaches, utterly entranced by the strange bubbles coming out of what Hellen assumes to be a trunk, manic grin unwavering.
She tightens her grip on her axe. It had been a decent person once, she thinks. She had respected him for his care for Sammy. He’d been visibly terrified to an irrational degree, but he had hugged it tightly before leaving for the last time. Like the previous, nothing human remains in what used to be Aster. It doesn’t appear hostile, but that could quickly change after the first swing.
She approaches it, gripping her axe tightly. If she aims it just right, it will die before it can even think to fight back.
Its eyes meet hers.
Its eyes widen a bit. Something almost resembling lucidity flickers in them, recognition smothered by layers of madness perhaps, before disappearing back into its mindless, gleeful gaze. It stares up at her curiously.
...
A part of Hellen regrets ever walking up to the third floor. Knocking on Sam’s door.
His naive, harmful, selfless nature is infectious.
She lowers her axe.
“Tabarnak.” Comes Papineau’s low, harsh voice. He is staring at the beast with wide eyes. She is getting sloppy. She had not heard him approach. She wants to drive a cleaver into her chest and tear out whatever part of her has caused her to falter. “I had known this would happen.”
“Mm.” She looks back at what used to be a housemate. It is once again focused on blowing bubbles from its absurd trunk.
“I didn’t see the others. I believe these two are all that remain.” She doesn’t look back, but he continues regardless. “We should head back. This mess must be tackled when we are more prepared.”
Aster glances up for a moment as Papineau loudly steps away. Meets her eyes again for a brief moment.
Sam has ruined her.
Hellen walks up, sizing him up before wrapping her arms around the top half of his body and throwing him over her shoulder. He writhes for a moment, strange paws struggling against her before stilling. Maybe he’s foolish enough to trust her. Or, maybe he’s so out of it he doesn’t care. Most likely the latter. His body is disturbingly long, so she opts for throwing another part over her other shoulder, and carrying the rest in her arms.
“What are you doing?!” She turns to see Papineau staring in wide-eyed shock. It is almost comical.
“Taking him.” She answers curtly, walking down the stairs past the confused janitor.
“He could be dangerous! He could put all of us at risk!”
He won’t. And if he did try anything, he’d be outnumbered twelve, thirteen if the masked figure was counted, to one. But she doesn’t think he will. She’s going weak-willed.
The janitor curses under his breath as he follows her. He’s smart enough to know this is not a battle he can win.
They pass by the other astronomer on the way, and it snaps at the three of them when they get too close. She looks ahead, putting it out of her mind. She is growing soft, weak. But not kind. Not charitable.
The people residing in Sam’s apartment are under her protection. No matter how she feels for them, she will kill anyone and everyone to keep them alive. This mercy does not extend to any other, Cursed or human.
They will simply have to figure it out on their own. For now, she has a job to do.