Toru... TOru... TORu... TORU!!!
The same haunting voice called out to me as I jolted awake, my sheets soaked with sweat. It was the same nightmare again, one that had been clinging to me for days now, refusing to loosen its grip.
I pushed the blanket aside and sat at the edge of my bed. I had just woken up, yet exhaustion weighed on me all the same. Not the kind that settles into the body, but the kind that seeps into the mind and refuses to leave.
As if to mock me, my phone began to ring. The sound echoed through my cramped apartment, a blunt reminder that the day had only just begun and that it would be a long hellish one.
I dragged myself to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and picked up my toothbrush. The mirror reflected a young man in his early twenties, his hair a dull, fading white. No longer looked like fresh snow, more like a withered flower left out in the cold, falling just to his chin.
I stared back at my reflection while brushing my teeth, my movements slow and absent-minded. A quiet sense of guilt crept in as my thoughts drifted back to what had happened a week ago.
***
I can tell when something is bothering you. You've never been the type to share your problems, but I'm different or at least I like to think I am. After all, I'm the one who raised you. We may not be related by blood, but I hope you know this... I will always be your home.
***
Her voice surfaced without warning.
A memory of my adoptive mother. Beautiful, and painful. Our last conversation. She was as gentle as the spring, as gorgeous as the summer. A presence that guided me through a world that never quite made sense.
I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed the sink clean. Then changed into a loose hoodie and sweatpants, the fabric familiar against my skin. Pairing it with Black-and-white Vans. Nothing special.
I checked my bag making sure i have all the things i need, and left the apartment. The door closed behind me with a small click.
~
Sep.24, 1998:
An unknown disease, spreads through the city. As classes were cancelled soon after, Martial law followed.
It didn't bother me much at first. I had enough emergency supplies to last at least a month. Food, water, necessities. I was fine.
The real problem was boredom.
There's only so much hours I could spend staring at a television before my head roll off my neck. The channels were dull, the programs repetitive. None of it held my attention for long.
And I avoided the news whenever I could. Watching it only made things worse, it only left unanswered questions to stacked on top of each other.
I exhaled slowly.
Scrolling through channels, I eventually landed on a cartoon. some exaggerated parody inspired by the R.P.D. S.T.A.R.S. brightly colored officers battling a grotesque monster and saving the city by the end of the episode.
"Wow, with all the taxes I pay, this is the least you could do."
I muttered, lazily laying on my couch.
Then the show was suddenly cut off.
The cartoon vanished, replaced by Umbrella's daily broadcast. Reminders of symptoms, instructions on what to do if you or someone near you showed signs of infection etc.
I turned off the TV and decided to sleep early.
Sep.28, 1998:
Over the last few days, the situation had gotten out of hand. Rumors of murders and cannibalism started spreading, along with reports of people with missing limbs and organs or worse, "corpses" were roaming the city.
I didn't believe it. I chose not to. But reality hit hours later.
Loud sirens and screams jolted me awake in the middle of the night. Confused, I peeked out the window and saw chaos. Police were opening fire at aggressive civilians, who were attacking each other without restraint. I quickly shut the blinds.
Scared, I tried calling the R.P.D., but no one answered. Then a loud banging on my door caused me to drop the telephone. It left a huge crack on it, breaking it.
"Shit" I muttered under my breath, hoping whoever or whatever was outside didn't hear me.
I moved slowly to the closet, careful not to make a sound, and pulled out a hunting rifle I kept for my safety. My hands trembled as I put on my glasses and loaded the gun.
Cautiously, I approached the door and looked through the peephole.
A man stood there. Adult, wearing a blood-soaked T-shirt. His jaw hung loosely, barely attached. His face was covered in blood, and his eyes were completely white.
"What the fuck???"
I fell to the ground in terror. The figure heard me and began pounding on the door again. Panicking, I fired a shot at my door, hoping to scare it off. But the bullet made no difference. The banging continued, relentless.
I aimed at the door again, this time slightly higher, and fired. A loud thud followed, and the banging finally stopped.
To make sure it was over, I peeked through the hole. The body lay motionless in the hallway, its head blown apart, brain matter splattered across the walls.
My knees gave out.
I retched, unable to handle the brutality and the weight of having taken a life.
I sat there for a moment, staring at my trembling hands, while screams and gunshots echoed outside.