I reached down, pulling the wire from my ankle, and with a
fierce tug, yanked it from Richard’s body. It writhed and wriggled in my palm,
the electricity slowly fading from it now that it was separated from its power
source. I gripped harder, and in seconds it went limp.
I grabbed the tall reading lamp next to the bed and raised it
over my head. Sometime in my brain had snapped, and I was running on complete
fear. I raised the base of the lamp over my head, the metal of the lamp
glinting in the dim light that came in through the drawn windows, and I swung.
The base of the lamp collided with Richard’s grotesque,
rotting skull. The weight of the blow instantly collapsed his face, sending a
cloud of rotted bone dust into the air. I swung again, the lamp slamming into
his open chest cavity, crushing whatever electronics had invaded his body. I
swung again and again, my mind stuck in a violent loop.
That thing, that Virus, had stolen so much from me, and I was
not going to sit back and let it take my life, too. It had to pay.
When my energy finally gave out, I dropped the lamp to the
floor. It hit the hard wood with a clatter. I stood over the bed, panting. My
eyes took in the damage I had done. Richard looked barely human. His already
rotten body had been reduced to piles of thin, leather skin, blackened blood
and bone dust.
I fell to my knees and I began to cry.
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