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I am still unconscious. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed about having a wet dream over Roman; who knew I am so sexually frustrated?

It was so...vivid.

I have no idea if I preferred the sweet stereotypical idea of the moment before death or if I preferred the passionate sexual frustration I seemed to exhibit. Did I really believe that was real? Of course I wanted to feel alive because I was dying and still am. It makes so much sense. Roman wouldn’t take that risk if I was recovering from septicaemia. I wouldn’t be so chirpy if I had just woken up after a week out. I guess I was too ‘caught up’ in the heat of the moment. The imaginary moment, granted but wow. If sex is anything like that in reality, take me now. But then again, everything went the way I wanted. It’s in my head after all.

If I could wake up any moment now, that would be great. Not that I don’t love being trapped in my thoughts and in the sickness that is my mind but if I could wake up, I would be grateful. I don’t know to whom I’d be grateful. Myself?

I can feel a pin prick. I can’t identify where but I can feel which is an advantage. Physical pain, amazing for clarity am I right? I am still frightened. So, run down on septicaemia. Let’s Sherlock Homes this bitch. The infection can’t have been incubating for two weeks otherwise, the symptoms would have presented themselves earlier. Would I have not noticed if my wound was infected? Wouldn’t Rita have noticed? I mean it hurt, the injury, but after the trauma to the body, that is natural. Maybe the infection led to the sepsis. No, it takes just a matter of hours to materialise or for the infection to take hold.

Wait. There’s another injury I hadn’t considered. I have this cut on my hip. I don’t know how I got it but maybe that’s to blame. No. It has to be my bullet wound. It has to be. It was always a risk that it could become infected; it was difficult to know but that what this has to be. Staphylococcus. It happens.

I’m done, I need to wake up.

I can only deduce so much. I could be a mini Sherlock. Because after all, it’s elementary. Oh Sherlock Holmes quotes, never get old. Anyone who disrespects those novellas deserves to burn in hell-fire. That’s just my impartial view on this.

The infection. The actual infection that wiped out the drips of humanity. It’s complicated to describe I guess. It starts off like a flu type thing; you begin to cough and your sinuses become painful. It’s easy to mistake it for flu or sinusitis. I guess it is a form of influenza. There is only one thing can is similar and that was the outbreak of Spanish Influenza in 1918. Apparently, it devastated the Western world. It was a pandemic. It wiped out more people than the first world war and the Black Death of 1347 to 1351.

100 million were wiped out worldwide in a single year. It’s nothing when you compare it to 5 billion in two years, or that’s what was predicted.

The virus the continues to give you respiratory issues; it gets harder to breathe. That’s the blood building up and solidifying as a mass. The irritation through coughing causes bleeding in the throat. Blood begins to build up in the lungs, acting as a form of pneumonia. This can cause the lung to collapse, best case scenario.

It is a painful demise. It continues to build up until you begin to suffocate. Blood begins to flow from every orifice. If you die at this point, you’re lucky. Believe it or not, this is the least painful and quickest part.

If your pain continues, if you survive having blood flowing out of every part, you will then begin to experience delirium, paranoia and hallucinations. Mental disintegration. Once insanity takes hold, your organs will shut down meaning that you will experience jaundice, renal failure, followed by a major heart attack. After that, death.

You see why, in their case, euthanasia is the kindest option. You need to identify it early. On top of the fast progression of the disease, it is incredibly contagious, hence why most of the population was wiped out when they were all in such close proximity to each other.

Does that aid your understanding? Of this world? The main threat. That’s what you’re always told. The virus. The virus is the big bad but they warm you about human violence. Gun shots, stab wounds, strangulation, overdose. It’s always about disease.

In some ways, it’s easy to relate to the virus. It’s dead but it just wants to be alive. It uses human cells, corrupts them, just to feel and to be alive. It’s that what we all want, to be alive?

Unless you’re suicidal. In which case, that’s not the aim.

But it’s always sod’s law. Those who want to survive die and those who want to die survive. If there is a God, he has a love for irony but then again, I would. If I had control over a planet, I’d torture the little bastards. I think everyone would. Looking at these little monkeys that fall out a tree and invent the digital watch yet think they have a right to make themselves gods. Dictating over life and death. They’d deserve everything they get. One thing humanity has in common with deities. A desire to punish those who believe themselves to be superior.

My favourite example of that is Hitler. There were nine opportunities when he could have died and yet, only his own bullet could end him. A coward’s end for the puppeteer. I hope he resides in hell. Burning as he forced millions to burn. John taught us a lot of things and that was one of them. Our history defines us. It is so easy to want people to suffer but you become inhuman when you take pleasure in losing your humanity.

I’m bored now.

I think about a lot of things but it’s maddening when you are alone with your thoughts because you can contemplate everything. Every second feels like a year. A year alone with your thoughts. I would definitely need a straitjacket.

I can feel a squeezing sensation. What the hell? I hope my hands being squeezed otherwise I will bitch slap someone. This time, I can’t respond. I can’t hear anything. I can’t even identify where I’m being touched. Am I paralysed? I’m not too clued up on if septicaemia can cause full body paralysis but if I’m paralysed, that’s game over. They all know that’s what I’d want. Rita could do it. She’s done it to younger people than me. It’s the reason she is so damaged, internally and externally.

Abruptly, something changes. I can actually feel my blood pumping. I can hear my heart beating at the speed of sound. Adrenaline. It was only a matter of time before they got the hint. But wait...they only administer adrenaline if the heart stops. Did my heart stop? Is that why I could hear nothing? Oh my god, that’s a contrast to the last time.

Maybe my heart didn’t stop. Maybe my body is trying to fight back. Who knew a hormone could be the thing to revitalise a person? I just have to fight again. My body working with me. My body against infection. Pretty cool. If that’s the case.

Maybe the adrenaline is pumping due to my little...hm...wet dream. Do you release adrenaline when you do the deed? I have no idea; complete virgin, I can’t be blamed. Can’t be judged. Whenever I have a ‘simple’ moment, I can know blame it on oxygen deprivation. Not that I’m bright anyway but I know how to survive. Okay, maybe not. That would be ironic. Okay, I will come to a compromise with my title. I am amazing at surviving if I do not have a bullet hole in me or I am in aseptic conditions, with a lack of pathogens around me. Yeah, sums it up.

Now I can feel the pain again. Right, I just have to work with my body. Okay. Right. I have my heart rate on my side and the adrenaline. I can feel sensations more vividly. Pinpricks. Squeezing. Ah. Oh my god. The pain begins to consume me yet again. Only living things feel pain. Only living things feel pain. Am I even alive or is this an illusion as well? A sick illusion but an illusion all the same, am I wrong?

I feel a building pressure in my chest. I don’t know what I need to do to relieve it. Cough or breathe? I don’t know. My chest feels like it is about to explode. I feel like I’m suffocating again. I can hear strangled noises escaping from my throat. I want to claw at my neck. If there was a hole in my neck, I would be able to breathe. The pressure might go away. I want to do all of these things but I can’t.

I can hear. It seems blocked as if my ears are blocked. It sounds like I’m underwater. It’s hard to determine anything that does sound like I’m surrounded by goldfish blubbing at me. That is a disturbing image, just massive human-sized fish staring at you. That’s enough to put a kid in therapy for the next ten years. Then again, if that was enough to put someone into therapy, I would need to sign up for at least fifty years worth. We all would.

I suddenly jolt up, gasping. I’m back. Back to Earth with a bang. The pressure seems to be alleviated. I collapse back down, keeping my eyes open. I can see Roman and Rita at my sides. Roman does look sleep deprived but not like the Lothario in my vision. I look down at my arm. There’s an IV drip in my arm with some form of saline solution in it. Maybe not saline. Maybe Prontosil but where would they have found a magic bullet?

“Lex. Lex. Calm down, okay. Everything will be fine I promise, won’t it Rita? We’re going to kill this bloody infection, okay.”

“Yes, don’t worry. Okay, worry. You died for two minutes. Heart stopped. You were technically dead but now you’re alive, so there could be damage to the brain.”

Aren’t you just the voice of comfort and light Rita, you bitch. So I died...that’s nice to know. How can I not panic? That’s like telling a baby not to cry. I actually died. How the bloody hell did that happen? I mean really. It was so different than last time. Maybe that was for good reason.

I still feel disorientated but I can’t quite remember what happened before the haze. That’s what they say; you can’t remember having a seizure but then again, my brain cells are frazzled as they are. I don’t need help screwing myself up any more than I already am.

The world is spinning.

If I can just keep my eyes open, maybe this will begin to make sense. This bullshit may finally begin to make sense because my mind’s made up. I’ve made my choice and it is impossible to convince me otherwise. I have to find out who I am. Who I really am. I need to find my parents, if they are still alive. I need to find out why John stole me from my parents, there must have been a reason. There always is. They didn’t abandon me. They didn’t abandon me? I mean, I am so confused.

Why do I remember waking up alone, scared and freezing? Why do I remember having to fend for myself for a few days? Why can’t I remember my past for what it was? My parents could have lived for ten years, thinking I was dead. Do they think I’m dead, if they’re still alive?

Do my parents think they have a dead daughter?

Do I have brothers? Sisters?

All of my life, I have been trying to figure out the mystery that is my past. That cold, dark void in my mind that needs to be illuminated. I owe it to myself to find out the truth behind it all. I have to find the truth from the only ones who know. The one place I should belong.

I need to unravel the riddle that is my past.

My first step towards finally living.

How can I even consider finding other survivors when I don’t know who I really am?

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