October 23
7:03pm

They are coming back today, may parents with my sister. I had prepared myself for the worse...everyone does. Very few come back once the slightest symptom is shown. Now, I don't know what to feel. Happy? Surprised? Excited? No. We have lost so many. So many have been admitted only to be put down. Rumors of a cure circled around for a time. Those were put down also. Detached, that's what I feel. Some live, some don’t. My sister was fortunate enough to be the lucky few. I guess I was lucky too. Those "within the closest proximity to the infected" are put down to stop the spread. But is death worse than this quarantined hell? At least in death you're free; I'm trapped. We are all trapped. Someone, somewhere, messed up, dropped a bottle of toxins, forgot to follow a safety precaution and now the world is in lock down.
I wonder how that person feels now. Guilty? Depressed? Maybe they put whomever it was down as punishment for his carelessness. Not much of a punishment. I feel jealous if that's the case. He or she sleeps peacefully while I watch life, as we knew it crumble in between my hands as the world tears itself apart limb from rotten limb. I did nothing wrong, yet I'm suffering the consequences. I sit and watch, as people are ragged from their homes, shot in the street. Family members turn on each other at the slightest sign of infection, in hopes of saving themselves. The truth is, what the plague has done pales in comparison to what we've done to ourselves. It has just been another excuse to start wars, just an excuse to discriminate, just an excuse to turn on our own species. This disease hasn't destroyed us physically; it has torn apart our minds, uprooting our humanity, turning us into ravaging beasts. Then again, the beasts of the wild still protect their own kind. Maybe what makes us human also makes us killers and all it takes is a small dose of chaos for that to stir.
A car just drove into the driveway, my parent's car, so why are the people getting out not my parents? Where is my sister? The letter said...they said...they also lie...humans lie. We are the real monsters. The monsters that would drag a child out of its home to decorate the sidewalk with brains, paint the concrete red with blood...my blood...my brains, I hear the footsteps on the stairs...my turn to be put down, but I'm not afraid...it'll be peaceful soon. The door. Welcome me home, Death, with open arms! A life is just a long-term loan, isn't it? It's my turn to pay back my debt.