The 'CDC'

I don’t think the ‘CDC’ is really the CDC. I don’t know who they are, but I don’t trust them.

They finally did something – that ‘something’ being, they blew down the door to Kyle’s house. They’d been clearing the streets, killing the Wasted Ones. At first, we thought that meant they were on our side.

When they arrived, they were in hazmat suits and pointed right at me. One of them grabbed me, moved my bangs out of the way – Anthony threatened to shoot him, if he didn’t let me go, but the bastard just kept manhandling me. He was turning me around, pointing at where I’d cut the sickness out.

I’d carved it in, and bled it out. A line through a serpent-curve. I bled it out of my head, and I’ve been perfectly fine since.

They knocked me out; I’m not sure what happened to the others. I started yelling since I woke up, screaming at this fake-CDC to let me out, or at least tell me what happened. Anthony, Kyle, Melissa. They could have done anything to them.

Finally, someone came in – maybe to shut me up with a sedative, maybe to kill me. He had a syringe. That’s all I know.

I bit him, spat on him, and told him to Waste. I don’t know if he is, now; I took his syringe, and bolted.

Currently, I’m hiding in this place – it’s bizarre, and doesn’t look like a government building. I’m positive they’re here somewhere, though, and if my little brother has taught me anything, it’s this: It may be dangerous to try to save someone, but if you can, you’ve got to stick together.

My mom and my dad are dead. My entire hometown is dead, I think. They’re all I’ve got left, and I think – for some reason – something tells me I’ve got an edge on these bastards. Or, I can give myself an edge. I beat the sickness. I can beat these people.

I’ll lay Waste to ‘em all.

Mind over matter.

Waste

The sickness is in my brain.

Mind over matter.

I just need to get the sickness out, before I Waste.

I won’t Waste like the others.

In my head

By this time, that family of three had already become dried-out shells of humans. Everything is still difficult to do, but I’m doing them. My eyelids feel like they’re lead, but my eyes sting so badly when they close that I can’t sleep. My own busy head is what’s making them sting.

My limbs feel tied down, too. And my stomach. It’s like it’s tethered to the rest of my insides and it churns whenever I move, because it’s being pulled at from every direction.

I’m thinking – even though the effects are horrifyingly real – the effects may all be self-imposed. It’s all in their heads, maybe?

But, that seems too extreme to be right, or real. It’s more than just hypochondria.

At the very least, I’m not wasting away. I feel disgusting, still, but now it’s more in the sense that I just want to take a long shower. Wash away the fear that I’m wrong, and there is a sickness…just, the sickness is in my brain.

Mind over matter.

Mind over matter

I pull myself out of bed. I put myself back in. I make myself sleep. I make myself wake up.

I eat. It upsets my stomach. I drink to settle it. I almost choke.

But I’m not wasting away.