The Virus Within: Chaos Rarity (Major Editing and Updating Required)

The Catalyst

Thanks to CrystalScherer for letting me draw inspiration from her amazing story 'The Virus Within'_____

[The main character will be plus sized. Meaning she will not be the usual heroine under a size 14. If you are not okay with that then it's best to leave now]~Destiny Witcher

7 MONTHS AGO

I recall the day when the world went insane.

My mother, a cancer survivor, was fighting for her life for the second time, but she was losing.

Her once plump and rosy face had turned pale and sunken.

She used to look exactly like me. Some days, I hardly recognize her.

At one point, my soft, chubby frame was smaller than hers.

She's now wasting away, and it pains me to watch her die so slowly.

My father is not pleased.

We depleted my college fund to cover her medical expenses. Now we're doing everything we can to make her last few months as comfortable as possible.

It doesn't help that she's sick with the flu.

For the most part, I've been looking after her.

I prepared seafood gumbo as well as honey-roasted ham for dinner today because I know she enjoys both of them.

"Oh, honey, you shouldn't be doing this. Thank you." My mother insists with a weak smile.

"There's no need to thank me. Eat up. It'll make me feel better about my mediocre cooking." I say as I sit down to begin eating.

"It is not mediocre it's delicious. Isn't it yummy, Hun?" She says turning toward my father.

"Yes, I-" My father's voice abruptly comes to a halt, and I look up from my plate.

My mother begins to shake violently.

I scream and jump up from my seat.

My father removes her carefully from her chair and places her on her side on the kitchen floor.

Seizures were common considering my mother had a brain tumor, but this felt wrong. As if something disastrous were about to happen.

To be honest, I always felt that way due to the stress. But this time was different. When she coughed up blood and suddenly stopped moving, I knew this wasn't the routine seizure we were used to dealing with.

My father drew my mother's frail, limp body into his arms.

"Rosa? Please don't leave, baby. No, not yet... I'm not ready for you to leave." He whispered while lightly shaking her and stroking her cheek.

"Zara! Do more than just stand there! Call the cops!" My dad sobbed.

I blinked, taking a moment to process what he had just said.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, but the line was busy.

That shouldn't be possible.

A garbled scream startles me, and I look up to see my mother's teeth buried in my father's throat.

I could hear the ripping of flesh as she went in for bite after bite as blood flowed freely from the wound.

"Oh God. Mom? Stop it, Mom! Please! You're killing him!" I shrieked.

I found myself once again feeling like a helpless little girl.

At the time, I was oblivious to the danger I was putting myself in by attempting to reason with someone who had already died.

This lady was my mother.