Blood trickled down alabaster skin where it erupted from the wound, the horrifying color of red clouding her vision as fear crept and taunted every bone, every vein in her body.
She's shaking. Badly.
Not because of the dropping temperature in the room, but fear had completely swallowed her and has made a hollow pit in her stomach. Bloodshot eyes open to the dead body before her as his body slowly rot and decayed almost immediately.
It's her fiancé. No, he didn't even treat her like a lover, but a slave.
Her parents had arranged her to marry this man—this monster that was now lying in front of her – dead. Like she always wished he had been, but no. Not like this. She didn't mean it, but the gods seemed to have granted her wish.
She collects her legs and pulls her knees towards her chest, her breathing intensified as she looked down on her palms as she released the weapon she had used against him.
Blood.
His blood.
Her doing.
It wasn't her fault. It was the usual with him starting off beating her as he always did. Bruises marking down her skin, without even given the chance to heal. Everyday, every hour, every minute, he'd just grab his belt and begin to punish her for every little thing she did, and she never knew why. Maybe it's because she's the heir to their family's company, and he had the lust for power. If only her parents knew, if only her little sister knew the pain she suffered the every single minute she had spent with him, then they wouldn't have set this arranged marriage.
And it's just in two weeks.
But he's here, dead. In front of her. His body lay lifeless in the bathroom tub. She was on the other side of the bathroom, trying to catch her breath and make a rational thought of how fast it all happened.
Oh, yes. She remembers.
She was arranging papers early that morning, as she always does. He had returned from a business trip. But the moment she saw him stare deep into her azure eyes and with the smell of rotting meat, she knew. He lunged at her, she dodged.
She rushed to the fridge and opened it, finding the perfect weapon. A large icicle hanging in the freezer. She detached it from its place and the moment she turns, he's there. Hungry for human flesh, eyes white and lifeless as his red hair had still stayed the same.
Without a second thought she swung it at his head.
Bones cracking, groaning. She swings again.
More groaning. He's on the ground.
She stabs him in the eye, then again and again and again-
Silence.
She opens her eyes, he's stumbled in the bath tub, swimming in his own blood. She's dropped to the ground, with tears stinging in her eyes.
The morbid smell of winced meat filled the bathroom as she's dropped her weapon of choice to the ground, slowly melting.
How has it come to this?
Thump.
What?
Thump. It goes again.
Her heart is racing, are there more of them? Are they coming for her flesh? Are they hungry for more? She grabs hold of the icicle once more, trying to slow her breathing.
And as the footsteps grew louder and louder by the minute she's holding the icicle above her head against the bathroom door as the shadow loomed into the bathroom and—
A boy.
Wait, no. A man that seemed like he's as old as her. With unruly hair dyed white and blue crystalline eyes staring at her as sweat glistened down his forehead.
His shirt is stained with dried blood as he grips on his shotgun at hand. Startled, she backs away slowly as she lowers the icicle which her slender fingers were wrapped at, not bothered by the cold.
"Who are you?" she asks with her thin lips. Eyes flicking up and down his body, she's never made contact with another person in all the weeks of hell she's experienced with her fiancé.
"Jack," he casually says as he looks at the deceased body on the tub. "Jack Frost," then back at her.
She drops to the ground, knees trembling. He holds his hands out as if to save her as he kneels and places his gun at one side.
He wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder blades. She's staring blankly into space, her breathing was all that could be heard in the room. In all the hell she's experienced for so long, believing she'd never let anyone in her heart anymore or see through her, this man. This man named Jack Frost is wrapping himself around her in all he, all he ever is.
Tears are streaming down her face now, it's been a long time since she's felt sanctuary in someone's arms.
A safe haven.
"It's okay," he reassures her as he ran his fingers through her braided locks. "I'm here."
Silence. She's still lost.
"I like your weapon," he lets go, still holding onto her shoulders for support as he glances down to her hands. "I can clearly imagine you smashing up walkers with that thing."
He looks down at her again, noticing her features. Ice cold eyes, button nose, platinum hair braided with bangs pushed aside. He notices her skin, fair yet marked with scars and bruises. Big, small, cut, and open. And he swore she didn't just get it now from the struggle she had with the walker on the tub.
She laughs. A choked up hollow laugh.
"Has the world gone mad?" she says, tears still streaming down her beautiful face. She's broken, he could see.
"I believe it is," he wipes her tears with his thumb. "It always has. Mankind is infested with hatred, and love is the cure. That's what my previous friend told me, well, before the outbreak happened."
She winces at the word – love. She glances back at the lifeless body at the tub, the one that nearly bit her head off. All because of one man, her views and belief in love has swayed. What is love?
She gives him a bitter smile.
"Darling, I think love is no answer to this madness."
"I know," he said before hugging her again, he knew she needed it. As if to ease her frozen heart, to calm the storm inside of her. "But this is why we must survive."
"Elsa," she chokes out before tears had clouded her vision once more. "My name is Elsa."
"Elsa," he repeats making her name sound music to his ears before letting go of her and staring into her eyes once more. "I'd be more than happy than to take you in our group, we've got a medic, a geek for machinery, a badass shooter, and you've got me. We'll live, we'll be human again."
She nods slowly.
She accepts. There was no place to run to anymore. But her body tenses the moment she remembers someone she needed to save.
"But," she starts as she slowly grows in worry. "I need to find my sister, she's still out there. She can't be eaten. I need to save her I have to—"
The unlikely sound of groaning fills the apartment, their bodies tenses. Dragging feet across the room, there was about two or three walkers in the apartment now according to Jack's calculations.
He grabs hold of her hand as he helped her up, glancing through the door. Walkers infesting the apartment with their morbid scent.
He leads her to the kitchen, ducking and keeping out of sight. Their weapons in hand, agile not to make a sound. But Elsa's trembling legs bump against the counter, drawing the zombies attention.
They break into a run.
Her hand still in his as he kicks the window open, staring down at the city infested with the dead. The sun shinning down on them as he hooks one arm around her waist, the sound of the dead not too far away from them.
His gun clicks looking back at Elsa. She's wearing a smile now, her body ablaze from the sun's heat.
"We'll find your sister, I promise," he reassures her.
"And we'll bring back humanity, correct?"
He gives her a smirk before he hooks his belt along the zip line he had just created connecting to the other side. Their lives at stake, knowing things would gradually change even in their world of chaos.
"And we will live."
Hope you enjoyed my first Jelsa one-shot. And yep, Hans is Elsa's abusive fiancé while Jack kinda just barged in on her apartment.
Don't forget to R&R!