Zaria Dove

Fire in Paradise

In an instant, his struggle for breath made his body visible, leaving me speechless. I tried to hold onto him, but my mother forcefully pulled me away, causing me to fall.

Suddenly, a powerful force emerged from the stairs and took him away. Desperately, I pleaded, "He might still be alive!" But a man approached and heartlessly shot him multiple times.

I sat on the ground, feeling numb with tears streaming down my face. Thick handcuffs were placed around my wrists, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I found myself in a sterile white room surrounded by doctors. I was restrained to a stretcher with a metal bar, and my wrists were secured with cuffs. Still disoriented, my head spinning, I felt a sharp pain in my lower abdomen.

I turned my head and saw Jarred's lifeless body hanging from his handcuffed hands, attached to two circular metal bars. He was only wearing ordinary shorts, stained with dried blood.

Behind him, a large screen displayed incomprehensible images. Drugged and unable to fully comprehend the situation, I knew they were examining him.

In horror, I watched as a woman sliced a piece of flesh from his body. I screamed, "Stop!" but my pleas went unheard. I writhed, screamed, and cried out, but then they injected something into my neck, causing me to lose consciousness once again.

When I regained consciousness, I slowly opened my eyes and found myself being forcefully dragged through dark tunnels on my knees.

The harsh words, "Welcome to hell!" echoed through the air, indicating that I had arrived at the contamination prison. This place, also known as the "Grave of the Infected," was undoubtedly the most repulsive location on earth.

The nauseating smell of rotting flesh and blood overwhelmed my senses, causing me to grimace in discomfort. As I was tossed into my cell, I accidentally bumped my head against the wall.

A voice from a neighboring cell spoke up, "If you are just gonna leave her here to die, you could at least show a little compassion!"

"In the future, I'll make sure to provide you with a cozy pillow and fancy silk sheets, you bitch!" one of the guards retorted with a mix of contempt and sarcasm in his voice. They were all decked out in white uniforms, heavily armed, and had helmets with masks attached.

I sat down and rubbed my forehead, trying to ease the throbbing pain. Crawling towards the bars, I took in my surroundings.

In front of me, there was a small walking area that must have been white a long time ago, but was now covered in filth. The streaks on the ground hinted at the blood that had been drained from previous prisoners.

Beyond the pathway, there lay a grimy stream of running water that resembled a sewer. The water trickled out from a small crevice beneath the path that led to the stairs, the very same path that had guided me to this place.

On the right side, there stood a cage, and within it, I spotted a tall girl with a shaved blond bob on one side. She was the one who had spoken up for me.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I guess so," I replied, wiping the blood off my forehead.

To the left of our enclosures, a never-ending line of cages stretched out into the unknown. Within those confines, there were women, men, and children, most of whom were plagued by illness.

"You don't seem sick to me!" I commented, stealing a quick glance at her.

"Neither do you!" she responded with a smile. "Well, you do look a bit unwell, but I bet you haven't been infected," she added.

Curiosity sparked within me, and I asked, "So, what brought you here?"

"I was simply deemed too tall as my crime. Apparently, nobody wants a tall woman," she shrugged, her voice tinged with resignation.

Suddenly, another voice chimed in, "Or fat!" I turned my head to the right and noticed a girl peering out from behind her cell bars.

"Well, in that situation," I replied, "At least you're spared from those disgusting swines!" I yelled, fully aware that my words would reach the guards who were conducting their inspections.

From the depths of the tunnels emerged a guard, dressed just like the others, wearing a white suit and a mask. However, unlike the other two guards, he didn't have a helmet and had captivating brown eyes. He approached our cell and his gaze landed on my forehead.

As he came closer, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket. Just as he was about to wipe away my blood, I instinctively pulled back and spat at him.

At first, he was surprised, but he quickly composed himself, his eyebrows furrowing in anger, and then he left, leaving only his intense gaze behind.

Now, everyone's attention was on me.

In that moment, all that mattered to me was the devastating realization that I had lost my only source of happiness. Tears streamed down my face as I looked up at the ceiling.

The girl asked, "What crime did you commit?" Instantly, a rush of memories flooded my mind.

"I had fallen in love with an unseen! A Type B," I whispered, a single tear rolling down my cheek.

I lifted my shirt and saw the deep cut on my stomach, blood slowly trickling out. The pain was intense, making me stumble and fall to the ground. This spot repulsed me, but its meaning no longer mattered.

As I fix my gaze on the ceiling of my prison cell, I notice the ceiling covered with dust and cobwebs. Tears stream down my face, wetting my hair, as I reflect on the torment that has plagued my existence. It has been an endless agony, a series of traumatic experiences.

In the depths of my mind, I silently question, “Why, mother?”

Even with blood trickling from my forehead, I am numb to any physical pain, or perhaps the pain is overshadowed by the weight of my emotional anguish.

I spent that day mourning. His face continued to haunt me, and I couldn't shake the belief that if I hadn't crossed paths with him, he would still be alive. He had placed his trust in me, and as a result, he let his guard down, only to meet his untimely demise.