CORONA

Week 1

Content may be disturbing. Reader's discretion is advised. Best read with a dark screen. ^

I slowly stir awake, my sleep-addled brain taking a second to adjust to my surroundings.

The TV emits a faint sound and the darkness of the room reminds me of where I am. I squint at the opened doorway, my mind creating shapes that I know isn't there.

I turn my attention to the screen. It's a talk show with several women sitting around a table. Unsurprisingly, the topic is about the virus. "Despite only 30 people still infected, many people are fearful," a pale woman in her forties said, her hands moving as she speaks. "It's been three years since the corona virus outbreak, and yet it's constantly mutating. One day it has this new element and the next day it has this. It's really scary to think what this means for the infected people still in quarantine."

A dark haired lady in a dress nods her head. "You're right. Not to mention the fact that only a couple of weeks ago, college students decided to risk their lives and volunteer to help SADE figure out what's going on. What people want to know about that is 'When-"

I turn off the TV. If only they knew what was really going on at SADE Labs.

Though I usually prefer being alone, I decide to go to the common area. I know my thoughts will run haywire in this darkness and maybe Anna's awake to ease my mind.

I pull on my sweater despite the ambient temperature and walk out of the room. Three weeks of staying here makes it easy to navigate this maze, but that doesn't stop me from rushing.

After several blind turns, I find the stairway. The lights are bright and blinding as I walk down the flight to the second floor.

I open the door. The light from the common area appear and I run towards it.

I don't make it far. One second I'm running, the next I'm on the floor and too stunned to scream. My nose and forehead have taken most of the impact and after the pain registers, I whimper.

I slowly turn around on my elbows to locate what had caused me to fall. From the light at the end of the corridor, I see nothing. The floors are bare, and so is my feet. I frown.

My thought process doesn't go far, however, when a hand clamps over my mouth. I try to scream, only to be punched in my stomach by a strong fist. I claw at the rough skin around my mouth to no avail.

"Get up," a harsh whisper comes from behind. "If you scream, I'll end you. Got it?"

The sudden drop in my stomach causes me to falter, but I slowly stand to my feet after catching a few breaths through my nose.

Suddenly I'm being pushed back into the darkness, one hand clamped tightly over my mouth, the other tightly coiled around my ponytail. The attacker yanks me to the left and into a closet. It isn't until after the door closes that he releases his hold on me.

I whirl around to see his face. Only darkness.

"Who the hell are you?" I quiver.

He snickers. "You don't recognize me?"

I freeze. Through the thick darkness, I can't tell if my eyes are closed or wide-open. "Jared? It was... it was you?" Jared, the one who was supposed to make the decisions we were too afraid to make. The one who helped save my life. The one who took care of everyone because no one knew how to think or operate in a time and place like this.

The shock must be evident in my voice because I hear him laugh again.

"You guys trust me too much." He says with amusement. A sudden source of light temporarily blinds me. When my eyes adjust, I see that it's a flashlight.

His face is intense as he looks at me, as if he's trying to gather my emotions. "Are you scared?"

My throat closes and tears brim to my eyes. We were all stupid. We were all played. And we're all going to die because of it. "Jared," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. My voice cracks instead. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want," he says, his eyes glaze over as he closes the inch of space between us. Before I can make another movement, his lips are on mine. I panic, pushing him backwards and his head hits the steel shelf lined against the wall.

"You've got the virus, don't you?" I cry out. I wipe my lips, hoping that it'd help. Who am I kidding? Whether he infects me or not, I'm going to die.

He doesn't answer, and the silence fills with my harsh breathing.

I try to move past him, but he easily caches it. He places the flashlight on the shelf and grabs my shoulders, slamming me against the wall.

My breath forces it's way out of my nose and I shut my eyes.

"Let me go," I plead softly. The sound of my rapid pulse rushes to my ears. "We can talk about this with the others. They'll understand. We can figure it out, maybe find-"

"There's no fucking cure!" The sudden loudness makes me flinch and my head hits hard against the wall again. I wince. "Don't you get it? They left us here to be fucked! We're all gonna die anyway."

"That's not true," I say unconvincingly. "We can get help."

He snorts. The first tears begin to fall, clearing my vision. I know that nothing will change his mind now. It's too late and we both know it.

"Stop talking," he says slowly, sending shivers racing up my spine. His eyes diverts from me and lands on something to my right. He laughs and picks it up, revealing a screwdriver.

"How do you want to die?" He asks casually, his eyes focus on the weapon, examining as he turns it around in his hands. "Should I hit you with this? Should I suffocate you? That'd be good, wouldn't it? The air slowly leaving your lungs, knowing that there'd be no escape. Or should I make it quick? I can bash your head in against that wall. We can see how long it takes."

My body shakes and I try to speak. No sound comes out. Instead, I feel the tears free falling and I splay my hands up and shake my head.

"Shh." Jared caresses his hand down my cheek, the screwdriver raised in the other. This close, his glassy green eyes seem dark. "It'll be over soon."

"Please," I whimper. "I'll do anything."

"Anything?" His interest is peaked. He lowers down the weapon and cocks his head in thought.

I nod vigorously. "Any..." The sound gurgles within a choke. I begin to sob as my chest heaves uncontrollably.

"Shhhhh," he says slowly. "It's cool. I won't kill you. Stop crying first."

I nod quickly and take deep breaths.

"That's it," he says encouragingly.

"Anything," I finally spit out.

"Okay. Just breathe for now."

He inhales in and out dramatically and I reluctantly imitate him. In. Out. In. Out. In-

I feel my lungs refusing to inhale as if there's less space in it.

A wheeze like air escaping from a deflating balloon escapes my mouth. Jared's face is void of emotion and his head is cocked, watching intently as I struggle to understand why my lungs isn't working.

Then the senses comes back to life; I feel the screwdriver jammed into my throat, the front of my neck and shirt soaked, the sounds of my whimpered choking, the excruciating pain registering to my brain, and I try to scream.

I attempt to remove the weapon punctured in my throat, but Jared holds my hands up on either side of my head. I thrash in desperation.

I feel my lungs begin to sag like elastic as they're supplied more blood instead of oxygen. My vision begins to blur and I can tell my body wants to sink low to the ground.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe.

I can't-