ABIDANCE

1

Inspiration for this story comes from Coronavirus and being quarantined indoors!!! Stay safe and strong, we are all in this together!! There are more chapters to come- this is only the beginning!!! I LOVE COMMENTS AND VOTES - So please vote or talk about the virus if you need someone to hear you!

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I cover my head with my pillow, trying to drown out the cries of my three-year-old brother, Lincoln. My mother is too weak to get out of bed to get him, but I'm too tired.

     In a matter a days, the bubble we live in - popped. A virus that began a vast ocean away attacked the United States a little over two weeks ago, spreading quicker than a California wildfire in a drought. Within ten days, the nation was forced to stay inside not to leave the house under any circumstance - an order enforced under martial law. Hospitals became too crowded, overflowing, unable to treat the infected. Then the doctors and healthcare workers also became infected with the virus, unable to help others infected.

    My mom refused to go to the hospital once she started showing symptoms, and we are all quarantined in the house together - prisoners to the outside world. So that means I need to help out more so she's not stressed and she can maintain her strength.

    I throw my pillow off my head and groan as Lincolns cries grow louder, pushing myself to the edge of the bed and twisting the kink in my neck. 

    When I open the door to his room, he's standing in his bed with red-rimmed eyes and a waterfall of snot running down his tiny face into his mouth.

    "Hey buddy, it's okay I'm here," I softly say, consoling him.

    I put my hands under his arms, grabbing him from the crib, and he lays his head on my shoulder, huffing out quiet sobs from crying so hard. 

    "I have boogers," he says, pointing to the mucus that remains on his face.

    Lincoln's heavy for a newly three-year-old, and I have to shift him from hip-to-hip as I walk him down the stairs and carry him to the kitchen. I rip a sheet of paper towel from the roll to wipe his nose.

    "That hurts," he whines. I am forced to use the hard material on the sensitive area since we are out of tissues and are low on toilet paper - that was one of the first things to go when the pandemic hit Austin, and now we are almost out. I should probably use my sleeve to conserve what we have left, but even the thought grosses me out.

    "There, all gone," I say.

    "Essie, I'm hungry," my six-year sister, Regan, says as she steps into the kitchen. She's shielding her eyes from the light with her arm, still unable to adjust to the brightness of the room. Only my brother and sister call me Essie because when Regan was little, she couldn't say Esperanza and would call me Essie, and it stuck, which I don't mind - I think it's cute.

    "Get some cereal out of the pantry," I tell Regan.

    "There's no milk, though, and everyone knows you can't have cereal without milk for breakfast; otherwise, it's just a snack." Regan's always been too smart for her own good - ahead of her time.

    "I don't know what to tell you. We might not ever have milk again," I harshly reply. It's not her fault or anyone for that matter that the stores are also out of milk.

    "It's not like the cows are dying, Essie." - No, it seems to be only the adults and babies, but I don't tell her that.

    "Just eat the cereal and pour some out for Link while you're at it, please. I'm going to check on mom." Regan's life has changed, just like the rest of ours. She has needed to become more independent and help out with Lincoln in a way she never had to before. This has become her new normal.