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It will be soon, my memories will fade away. Thoughts and sanity will fall into pieces like flesh from the bones. Moistened muddy floor still bothers under my feet... sometimes feels good. I still feel something.
Ire comes along with the voices now, increasing in frequency than before, deafening me, blinding me for moments, something I knew would happen eventually. An aching thirst knots not in my throat, but in the pit of my stomach, everyday harder to ignore, harder to resist.
I hear the murmur of water nearby as I drag my weary feet down a hill in the woods. North or south? I don't know anymore... I just walk.
An abandoned cabin opens in a clear, next to a lake. I sigh to such a beautiful sight, recalling plans made along my husband to build one just like this...
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The door opens to the coziest place. Guessing these people left in a hurry, my fingertips linger on the surface of a wooden dining table, a fine layer of dust adhering to, nonetheless, the space looks clean.
Walking to my left, there's a small bedroom. A pink and blue flowered bedspread invites me to lay down for a moment or two, but then the voices. A sharp pain in my head makes me dizzy, blurring my sight. It's hard to focus when... hunger... then anger.
I hold my head, trying to squeeze it with my own hands to make it stop, when I bump into another piece of furniture; a crib. Eyes cry dryly- tears were the first thing to be gone-. It's when finally I regain balance and I'm standing staring at my own reflection in a mirror... my own decayed reflection. Dark circles around my eyes have grown purple and my lips are cracked. My skin is never the rosy color it bore before, rather it's a bit yellow and pale. Veins look bluer under a now thinner dermis.
Behind the effigy of myself, I see the crib, one more time. My eyes shut with heaviness to the memory.
A heavy bandage wrapped my forearm. The most they could do after having the accident in the laboratory. The centrifugal broke and a piece of glass covered in contaminated blood cut into my skin. Immediately they took me to the showers and rinsed me up. An antidote and a few antibiotics were administered, but the virus had made it into my bloodstream with aggressive speed.
Becoming another Guinea pig, they tested in my whatever experimental antidote was available, but it only helped to delay the transformation. I would eventually become one of them. Just like them... a zombie.
Soon I realized it was better for me, for everyone to just let me go. "Please, don't. Don't cry Timmy. Mommy will be fine", I cried along with my two years old baby as I placed him into my husband's arms. I sobbed while waving goodbye to them, without even giving them a kiss. And they left the hospital wards.
The voices ring one more time inside my head and memories just vanish. Again, no thoughts, no memories, just ire, thirst and hunger. Stumbling to my right into the crib again, I spot something black inside the baby's bed. At first, just a blur. Focus. A gun. In my shaky hands I grab the pistol. Roaring, the voices come in and out again of my head for a few seconds.
Still holding the revolver, I turn around to the mirror. Placing my index in the trigger, I examine the gun. Voices gone, I look at myself again. Crying no tears, still crying... there's only one way, I think. I know. Firmly, I put the muzzle on my forehead. Index trembling on the trigger I think, perhaps it's not load...
