It has been months since the outbreak occurred... outbreak... that's what everyone just called it, other's I've come across called it an act of god, personally I think it's just some new virus that we couldn't control. It came out of no-where with no warning, oh wait... I need to explain just what the hell I’m talking about, I’ve never really been good at writing or keeping a so called diary so you’ll have to excuse me. Hell, just take one look at the title of this thing and you’ll realise that!
That’s another thing I find funny, I’m sitting here hiding in the city on a rooftop, writing like I have an audience! Well I guess you never know what will happen. Tonight could be my last night to do something ‘human’. Anyway onto how this all started.
I’m not quite sure when it all started for everyone else, all I remember is the exact moment it started for me. I was in work as per usual, doing my everyday office job, just like everyone else in this city. Around 2pm on a Tuesday afternoon I went over to John’s desk to grab some paperwork, he wasn’t at his desk (no surprise there), so I wandered towards the bathroom in hopes of killing just a few more minutes.
As I opened the door, I noticed a dark red smear along the floor, running towards one of the cubicles. I heard soft thumping coming from that same cubicle, I called out to see if everything was ok, nothing but silence, I went over to the cubicle and put my head against the door, again nothing but silence.
What happened next will haunt me for the rest of my life, and I must warn you that what I’m about to write isn’t for the faint hearted. So if you’re a good man or woman of god who happened to pick up my dairy, then you’ve been warned.
The door to the cubicle slowly opened... I had found John. He was sitting on the bathroom seat head slumped against the wall, he had blood all over him! And when I say all over him, I really mean all over him! He was an absolute mess. On the left side of his head were deep scratches, the soft thumping sound I had heard was John smacking his blood soaked head against the cubicle wall,
“John! What the hell happened to you?” was all I managed to say.... His mouth opened as if he went to say something, but instead he moved his hand towards his mouth, he reached in, grabbed some of his front teeth, and with no effort at all he pulled them out! The teeth fell to the floor, and the blood pooled at the back of his throat, he began to make a gargling sound which made the blood bubble out of his mouth. John then started to stand up, as he did I heard a horrible snapping sound, and he fell to floor, I knew he had broken his leg, and to be more specific – his left one. How do I know this? Well his fucking bone was sticking out, that’s how!
I’m sorry for that outburst, that was very unlike me to be honest. It just goes to show how much this whole situation has affected me, and look at me, I’m apologising to a fucking diary. I hate writing, I want my laptop back!! I want a warm bed, hot food, and most of all I want my boring life back! I hate this shit, why are you even reading this crap? I hate you...
