I remember when the apocalypse hit my country. People were plagued left and right, even my best friend fell right in front of me. The police came to my home three days later and..and took my sister and I. They put us in what I can best describe was like a concentration camp. There were hundreds of us thrown into a small area and forced to live like a third world country. It was a major difference from my home but the worst part about living there was when my sister was infected. Her name was Celeste and she was all that mattered to me after I was taken from the rest of my family. She was almost seven when it hit her. Almost immediately, I noticed the symptoms. She was either restless or too sick to move. I tried to care for her like any other fever but one day, she-she just attacked everyone in the room. Being unable to stay in there, I waited by the locked door until I heard her stop moving. When I walked in, Celeste’s body was still. She wasn’t moving not at all..I-I tried but…she, Celeste,…was…*deep breath* I tried to move on after that..but, but I couldn’t. Still haven’t. A couple months past by after that…It was just me. I had no friends, I had no family. I watched everyone around get infected and once someone was gone, a new person replaced them. I met them but soon they would be gone. Then one day, an officer came to me and took me here. To where they were studying on how to find the cure. That’s my story, doctor. I don’t know if it’s of much help or even if I will be of much help but can I ask you one thing, Doctor? If I don’t live until the cure is found, will you-will you tell my story to people? Will you just promise me that everything I suffered and went through will not go to waste? That someone, anyone, out there will hear my story; and maybe I can teach someone, anyone—that you should always stay optimistic. I know the cure will be found but I just want you to promise to me that my story will help someone out there. Someone that’s willing to hear it?
none, Marius B.