I'm fucking sick, no, not physically, but mentally and emotionally. I'm not sick like them, I'm not. I haven't been bitten or anything. Thank the plague. No god, nothing like that, not even close. Why would he do this to us? Why would he send us this.. This.. Sickness? I couldn't take it anymore, I swear I was ready to take that gun and pull the trigger, but then I remembered what my father had told me.

"Keep your chin up, Kiddo. Keep moving forward and make it out alive, for both of us."

That's what was keeping me alive, or so I thought..

It was October 31st, my 14th birthday. I never really believed in celebrating things like this, what was the point? Daddy wasn't home. He was sick, really sick. We didn't know what it was at the time. He had been in the hospital for a week. I had been staying with a family friend. His daughter was one of my best friends. She was somewhat protective of me, you could say, we had our awkward lesbian moments. I would laugh at them, not to her face of course. Anyway, I had no such thoughts now a days. Or at least I tried to ignore them.

October 31st, he had come back later that day. A perfect birthday present. Well, I had been at the Cartland's household for most of the day, but I got a phone call. The name on the screen said "DADDY". Which of course made me wanna smile, something I wouldn't do on a regular basis. Daddy was my life, my world. He was the only thing I had left, of blood relations of somewhat. I was so happy when I got that call. I answered, the sweet tone of his voice. The caring father.

I raced home, I really did. I fucking missed him, it had been at least two days since I had seen him.

I was at the door ready to jump into his arms. I took a deep breath and walked in and at that moment, I knew something was wrong. It was quiet and television was just static-y. "… Dad?" I frowned and closed the door behind me. "Hey, dad.. I'm home." I didn't want to say it too loud, I felt like there was a lump in my throat. "Dad.." I walked past the kitchen and into our living room. Was he sitting on the recliner?

"Dad.. How are you feeling..?" I walked over to the recliner and turned over to look at what was left of him. I froze and all emotions left my body in that instance. The air had smelled rusty when I walked in, like metal. The taste was stuck in my mouth. The taste of blood. I recoiled in disgust, I covered my mouth and looked away. "GOD!" Tears filled my eyes, he was sitting there motionless. His corpse, his bloody corpse. "Da--… Ad.." I couldn't even say one word. I sobbed uncontrollably and fell to my knees. My stomach felt like it was going to fucking explode. I was gonna puke, I couldn't hold it in. I ended up vomiting, blood. I was in so much pain, who the fuck could do such a thing!?

I tried so hard to not lose control of my body. I ached.. So much..

I dragged myself over to him and took a hold of his hand. It was lifeless and limp, why?

I managed to push myself up and lay my head on his thighs. I cried.

November 1st, the Cartland's had come knocking at the door. I stayed silent, not wanting to move from my spot, I had rested my head on him all night. He was cold.

Douglas managed to open the door, he called out both out names. I finally had enough energy to pull myself up and stand, and as soon as I did, they walked in. My face was paler than usual, they had told me. I looked over at them, my body all bloody, I recoiled once again and blacked out. I could still hear them calling out my name..