White Linoleum

November 16, 2010
By Anonymous

Ebola, this one word scars me, mentally, physically, internally, literally. Ebola ruined my life, my family, my heart. Ebola visited me not so long ago, at first I was fine, just playing near the river, the loud crashing sounds, and the white frothing foam. The Ebola River was so powerful, just like the demon. The doctor said that endothelial cells lining the interior surface of blood vessels and with coagulation. This is did not understand. That was just the scientific way of saying, “I was dying, and there was nothing they could do.”It sounds so hopeless I know. But at the time, I was just a child, this virus aged me, now I am an old shoe worn and dilapidated. It all began with a sickening feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, then a hot feeling, dizziness, I couldn’t breathe! I shouted out in anguish, “Save me lord!”I was so hot, burning up like the sweltering heat of the African Sun, sleep to escape this pain. The smell of that hospital was so putrid, the metallic smell of blood everywhere rotting corpses just lying in their bed as if they were still alive, the bustling nurses, dropping like flies every single day, either dying along with us pitiful patients, or afraid of catching the demon itself, soon the other horrible symptoms would come; the doctor and my family just stared down at me with pity, whispering sweet nothings into my ears. I couldn’t really tell who these masked ghosts were, dressed head to toe in white medical gowns floating about my small cot. Then it happens, I tense up, my muscles cried out in horror, so sore, my mama cried out in agony and falls to the floor in a pool of salty tears. A horrendously deep raspy cough came, followed by a splash. I swallowed only to have seen my scarlet red blood spewed on the floor, painting the white linoleum a darkened red purple, I shuddered away know that this was only the beginning. The hospital had just gotten new white linoleum, now stained a malevolent color of fear. That white linoleum was the only thing that I saw of the twenty estimated days of my last days, I talked to the white linoleum, Prayed to it, shared my deepest secrets, I even pretended that it was god, begging for a chance. I miss that white linoleum close my eyes and hope that soon this evil virus would just leave me to old happy life, Splashing about, and singing with my classmates, Skipping joyfully to school, But I am not a child anymore.
Before, The Demon took my life away.

The author's comments:
We're learning and researching about the ebola virus, and I thought that it would be cool to write about the victims perspective.

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