Fighting The Disease

Throw Me Into The River

I wake without realizing I ever slept. My head is throbbing as soon as I open my eyes, a dull pounding between my ears. I get up anyway, slowly piecing together memories of yesterday. The aches and cries and all the bitter struggles we've faced were combined, and we hated the world, but we hated it together. I still remember the scent of smoke and tears mixed together in a haze, surrounding us even though we haven't made a fire in months. It attracts... things. People. The Dead. At this point, I don't know which option is worse. Humanity could have survived together. People could have shown courage. But so many people had been living within bubbles that have protected them. They slipped into the chaos willingly, though they may not understand. And yet those were experiencing trouble in their life before That Day... They're alive. Whether it is seen as a blessing or a curse, they are alive. No... They're surviving. I've come to learn that there's a difference.

It's ironic, isn't it, that the ones in suits and pencil skirts who were so professional and calm and collected were the first too fall into chaos. And like dominoes, with them falling, came others. One by one the world fell apart. And though it was gradual, it felt as though the world was instantly tossed in the darkness and ashes. The people who promised to help others and gave speeches on the importance of loyalty were the ones to start ripping each other apart, bringing another person in with each corpse. The hypocrisy of the situation would make me laugh if I was able to. If we worked together, and maintained a sense of logic and calm, this would be over by now. But alas, I am still present within the ruins of a world without hope. If I were to stand and walk to river, to gave at my unfortunate reflection, all I would witness would be a future corpse. The thought comforts me.

After thinking and analyzing the vast majority of my life actions that hold some form of significance, I manage to stand. I see Ace along the river, his feet inside though the water is frigid. I walk towards him, ready to lecture him about how we can't afford for him to get sick. He plays too great a roll in our survival.

"Ace," I shout. His back straightens as to indicate he heard me, but he doesn't turn around. There's a feeling in my stomach as though I'm about to be sick, but I haven't eaten in days, so I blame it on that.

"Ace, take your feet out of the water!"

This time he turns around. I see a glimpse of himself, a guilty looking boy, with soft eyes and gentle hands. Then he conforms into a monster. He gets up as I back away, desperately shuffling backwards and he turns around to face me. There's a knife in his hands. It only takes a second for me to realize whose flesh it will have the honour of plunging into.

"Ace, what are you doing?" My voice is shaking. My heart starts pounding. He moves closer, and I try to move back, but I can't.

Move! I command my body. Run! I stay in place. It is half a meter away now and I'm trying to move but my hands and feet have sunken into the ground. I tug my arms and legs and am met with nothing more than pain. 

"Ace, stop, you don't know what you're doing! PLEASE!" He doesn't listen. It doesn't listen. Instead it moves closer. It crouches in front of me. It has Ace's body. But his face is blank. It scares me. Emotion is weakness, and this creature doesn't have any. The knife if brought up, and it skims over my skin slowly. Up my legs, my thighs, my sides. With each new height comes a new depth. By the time the knife reaches my neck, there is a red trail. I feel my chest bobbing up and down like a bouey in an ocean experiencing a storm, but I still can't move. I don't say anything. I close my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Alexandra." It's Ace's voice. I open my eyes just in time to see him take the knife and plunge it into his own chest. 

I don't move. 

I don't blink. 

I don't do anything. 

But I feel everything. 

Even though he plunged the knife in his own chest, it is mine that is being consumed by flames. My heart is pounding so loud I can hear it echo through my ears, and I'm shaking everywhere, my whole body a vibrating mass of fear. But I don't shout, or scream, or run to him. I'm stuck where I am, and that is what kills me the most. Ace wobbles unsteadily back to the river, and I can feel myself screaming inside my own head, telling him, begging him to come back so I can save him, so we can survive together. And then I watch as he flings himself into the violent river, with jagged rocks dangerously concealed by the murky waters. His body floats away, bobbing, and the saddest part is that he doesn't resist.

He floats away. 

Then I scream. 

Out loud, even though he can't hear me. 

He's dead... 

He's dead. 

I wake up then, feeling slippery, with a burning throat. Ace is hovering over me, eyes frantic, trying to find a way to calm me down, and tell me everything will be alright. But nothing will ever be alright again. I shout and writhe and he pins me down and I scream because what if he's going to hurt me, what if he never loved me and I've been alone this whole time?! I manage to shout his name, and he me looks me in the eyes, and I sob. And he pulls into my arms just like when  were kids and I scraped my knees, except now the scrape is on my heart and can never be healed again. 

He holds me, and I cry for hours and hours, and I tell myself I will never sleep again, even though the real nightmares happen in broad daylight. And I tell myself I will never let anyone hurt him. Not even himself.