30 July 2012
Positive. It can't be. I... Can't have it. Can I? The test results slip out of my hand, spiralling towards the floor. My limbs grow shaky and weak, my mind screams. I can't have it. I can't. But then, why does it say positive? My ankle gives way and I fall down the steps of the surgery, my knee contacting the concrete with a thud. The test results sit just out of reach, proof that I only have a month to live. A month. A month to say goodbye. A month until the virus raging inside me finally succeeds. A month until I die. I sit up, shaking and breathing heavily, and check my legs for any serious damage. A thin stream of blood trickles from my left ankle, and the impact from the fall has caused various bruises to appear. I search my pockets for a tissue, then wipe the blood from my ankle, pressing the tissue against it. The surgery's sign looms above me, out of place in this dark alley. Black with silver lettering, it identifies the building as 'Surgery 1A45GB'. I stand up, shakily at first, but I soon get my balance, and limp over to read the sign. 'Surgery 1A45GB. Dr Clarence Sherratt Virus testing centre' That's all it is. This huge, elaborate stone building was built just so doctors could test people. Ever since the outbreak, surgeries like this have been going up all over the place, just as quickly as the virus spread. A soft breeze sweeps through the alley, bringing with it the stench of chemicals and rustling my test results. I walk over slowly, and ease myself down on to the floor, leaning against the wall. My frizzy hair falls to my shoulders, a wisp drifting in front of my eyes. I bat it away, then reach over to the paper, taking a deep breath as I read the results.
'Name: Luna Watkins Age: 15 Pregnant: - Children: - Medical conditions: -
Mother: Ariana Linford Results: Negative
Father: Oliver Wyn Watkins Results: Negative
Test results for Virus X2B4 Results: Negative
Test results for Virus X2B5 Results: Positive
Notes Prescription given: - Vaccination given: - Medication given: - Medical treatment given: - Time left to live: 1 month.'
I stop reading there, the tears blinding my vision, leaving me sobbing uncontrollably in the alleyway. Realisation hits me head on, knocking the breath out of my lungs. I only had a month. Somewhere, out there, they are trying to find a cure. I close my eyes and mutter under my breath repeatedly, wishing that whoever they are, wherever they are, they succeed.
Virus • Opuss № I