"I hate everyone."
"Except me, right?"
"No, especially you."
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It's funny, isn't it? That when the whole world decides to become infected with a brutal and fatal virus, the real monsters are the ones still alive? Blake Finnegan lost most of...
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Eight Years Ago
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MOM'S ALWAYS PARANOID. She flinches when I trip, takes me to the doctor every time I'm sick - and has slept in my bed on numerous occasions when I show even the slightest sign of fear.
Usually it's exhausting - to live with a helicopter like parent. Except for right now, when I truly do feel like I'm dying.
It happened during naughty-corner. I was in trouble for picking up a pigeon and bringing it into the classroom, and suddenly my throat started to burn. I coughed not because there was an itch but because I thought it might suffocate the burning. It didn't.
My teacher thought I was faking it - given I've done similar things before to get out of the naughty-corner - but when my eyes started watering and my skin started burning up, she jumped into action. Asked me if I had any allergies, shook my shoulders with wide eyes.
I do not have any allergies.
And yet I still feel like something has gone wrong, like perhaps I do have allergies and I didn't know - or maybe sicknesses can force themselves upon a person in seconds as quick as that.
Mom has just sped past a red light driving me to the hospital.
"Do you need any water darling?" She asks, looking over her shoulder before digging into the seat beside her, on the ground, in the flip-thingy that comes out next to the wheel.
"No." I croak, staring forward and out the front window of the car. I still feel like I'm dying - like I did minutes ago - but...well, the pain has been so constant it's slowly becoming something I'm used to.
"Food?"
"No." I repeat.
"Okay honey, just-"
"Mom, am I dying?"
Mom chokes out a laugh, "No sweetie - listen, you probably have a cold or a sore throat and we're just making sure it's nothing serious. Alright?"
"Alright." I murmur.
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"So, it's definitely not a cold, or a sore throat." Nurse lady sighs as she flips a page over on her clipboard.
My heart beat faster as I distinctly start to fight back an urge of tears. It's true. I'm dying. I only have three hours left, and it's too far of a drive to get to Disney Land so I'll have to spend it with my loved ones.
"What's wrong?" My mom, ever so smart, asks.
"Her temperature is significantly high, so we think she has a fever and-"
"Oh." My mom lets out a breath of relief as she slumps into her chair, "So we just need to get her medication?"
"No - well yes - but I wasn't finished. You see, Dr. Arnold here usually has a nack for always going on his instinct. He saw something about her mannerisms that he recognised, and, well - it turns out she has an enlarged spleen."
