Chapter Thirty-seven: Elie

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A/N: Read to the end, I promise I won't have disappointed you (hopefully).

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Elie's POV:

Elodie had been declared missing in the time that we were away from home, and signs with her face are plastered next to others who had been taken away and lost to society. And when the number of people dying finally dropped to an acceptable number, the initial panic mostly faded. Some cults fell apart while others continue to grow. Others say that God had saved them and places of worship are suddenly on every corner of the street.

But no one knows who really saved them.

No one knows that she's dead.

No one saw the hole through her chest--the blood that had drained from her body and stained the fabric of her shirt. No one saw her blood bloom through the water or her eyes in the moonlight as they blinked for the last time. I saw it every night. My sister never knew what I was thinking when I cried after passing a sign with the face of someone who was missing, who was gone; she would just place a hand on my shoulder and sit beside me until I was done.

No one knew that I was grieving for a hero.

Sheila and I don’t talk anymore, but I know that she cries too. I don’t even know where Jayne went. Dev moved far away with his family.

Elodie’s family still lives in a nightmare--they have nowhere to escape. As far as they know, their daughter is still alive. They know nothing about what’s happened to her. They simply wait in torment every day, hoping that some sign of her would surface, and it feels unfair that I know more about her current state than they do.

It occurs to me that at some point, I’ll have to tell them. They might not believe me, but I'll never be able to relax until I say something.

I'd tried before. I'd stand at the edge of their driveway, staring straight at their door, but I could never do it.

I'd remember her parents' stretched, tired faces when I saw them around and think of how they'd change when I finally give them the news. I always walk away.

Today, I stand in their driveway again. I look down at the cracked pavement, and the handprints on the side of their mailbox--one of which must have been Elodie's--one of which was covered with a missing poster, and I take a step closer towards their door. I pluck the poster of their mailbox and walk down the driveway to their front door.

Elodie's brother opens the door before I can even knock. "Who are you?" he demands. He notices the missing poster fisted in my hand and asks, "Do you know where my sister is?" My throat tightens in hearing the hope in his voice. He really thinks she's alive.

Elodie's father comes up behind him and protectively pushes him back. "Who are you?" he asks.

I shakily bring the poster up in my hand. "Elodie isn't missing."

The slight color that had been in his already ashen face disappears. But a glimmer of hope appears with it. His eyes, eyes that I'd seen in Elodie, fill with tears and his clutch on the doorway tightens desperately. "What are you saying," he dishes out the question almost tentatively, half afraid of the answer.

My heart throbs painfully, and I try to clear my throat so I can say my next statement clearly. "She's not missing . . . she's--" My voice fails me and I have to close my eyes to prevent tears from leaking out.

"What is she then?" Elodie's father gently urges me to finish.

My head spins weakly as I try to form the right words. "She is--" I'm cut off by the ring of my phone in my back pocket. The ringtone tells me it's Sheila.

I fumble to get it out of my pocket, and with numb fingers, I accept the call. This is the first time that Sheila has ever reached out to me, there is no way that I would not pick up. "Meet me at the bakery next to the new church. Now."

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm running down the driveway towards the bakery, promising myself that I'll come back.

A raindrop hits my nose and another slaps me wetly on the cheek, feeling like a sloppy kiss. The rain starts coming down hard, bouncing off the sidewalk and collecting on the leaves of the maple trees that line the street. By the time I reach the bakery, I'm soaked and stray water droplets trickle down from my hair and into my face.

A tinkling bell rings as I open the door, and the smell of freshly baked bread warms my skin.

Sheila stands and waves me over to a table in the back corner of the shop, but when I see who's with her, I freeze. Dungworth is sitting across from her looking grim, and Sheila looks shell-shocked.

I slowly make my way to them. As I approach, Sheila tightens her hands around a cup of cocoa and whispers, "They couldn't find her body." She stares down at a misshapen marshmallow on the edge of her cup as if looking for something to ground her.

I suddenly feel unsteady and confused. The sound of rain in the background fades to a buzz.

"They went back to the Pit to retrieve her body, and they couldn't find it," she repeats dazedly.

"What does that mean?" I question. I realize that I still have the missing sign crumpled in my hand.

"It means that she's alive. She didn't die."

***

Author's Note:

IT'S FINALLY OVER, WOW. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT (THE LAST CHAPTER).

For those that have reached this point: thank you from the bottom of my heart, you guys are honestly the reason I finished writing this.

♥️♥️♥️

:')

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