I don't know if I'll ever sleep again with this huge decision weighing over my head. I haven't even bothered attempting to get into bed yet, despite the very late hour because I know that the second I close my eyes all I'll be able to see is horrendous visions of death. The sort of sights no one my age should have to see, never mind in relation to their parent.
In the end, I feel compelled leave the sanctuary of my room for a few moments, purely because I'm desperately thirsty, and the second I make it to the stairs I find myself faced with the reality I've been trying to avoid.
"D...dad?" I stammer, to the hunched over figure sitting in the middle of the staircase. As I lean over to look at his trembling shoulder, my heart thumps so hard it's as if someone has their hand wrapped around it and is squeezing unnecessarily for me. "Dad, are you okay?"
He glances up at me, and despite the thick black shadows hanging over the room I can see a sparkling wetness in his eyes. I've seen my dad mad before, stressed too, even incredibly happy every now and again, but not once since I've been alive have I seen my father cry. I know I should feel emotion welling up in my chest as I look upon his devastated face, I even try to muster it up, but there's nothing there.
I'm numb, hollow, empty.
"What am I going to do, Rachael?" he begs me, asking me the same question I've been torturing myself with all night long. "I can't ignore this forever, I can't shy away and act like this won't come back around to kill us all. I'm infected with the AM13 virus, I got bit just outside my new office, and now...well, now I'm changing. I'm becoming the things we fear, the beasts the media are describing. I want to stop it, but I can't. It's coming for me regardless."
I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to find the right words, but there's nothing there. I don't even know what he expects me to say to that.
"I think..." he continues, talking over my thick silence. "I think I should go to one of the hospitals, don't you?"
"I don't know," I rasp back, unable to make myself sound normal.
"I think it's the right thing to do, but your mother doesn't agree."
"What...what does she say about it all?" My voice cracks, the emotion pours through. It takes all that I have not for an ice cold, still numb tear to roll down my cheek. "What has Mom said?"
"She's gotten this funny idea that the hospitals are a bad place." I suck in a deep breath, wondering what the hell Mom's gotten her brain into now. She never seems to stop and recognise how her mad ideas impact upon everyone else. "She thinks that it's more of a slaughter house, that the only way to stop this virus from spreading is to kill everyone that has it."
I can no longer breathe. During that comment, a thick ball lodged itself in my windpipe, and now I'm afraid that I might die myself. Dad wraps his equally slick fingers around mine, and we have a moment of bonding, a second where we're both silent, lost in the magnitude of what this means for our future. There is no happy end with this story, only heartache and misery from every damn angle.
If only we hadn't moved.
If only I was around more.
If only Dad wasn't stood in that exact position when he was bit.
If only...
"I'm too tired and confused to make the right choice." Dad shatters my terrified thoughts with his own. "What should I do for the best? I mean, this isn't going anywhere..."
He lifts up his top to show me the bite once more. It's even worse than before now, stick, coagulating, brown. The smell is so pungent it sticks in my throat, and as I inhale once more the tears start flowing.
The sound I make with my howling sobs aren't buried into my father's bear hug enough to stop Mom from overhearing. Her bedroom door clicks open, and I spin around to see her bright red face, her puffy eyes, and the sheer exhaustion dripping from every limb.
"Rae?" she asks kindly, cocking her head as she looks at me. "You don't want your dad to go somewhere to be murdered, do you?" The emotional blackmail rests heavily on my heart. "We can look after him here, can't we?"
My eyes flicker between the two of them, the adultness of this decision hits me powerfully in the face.
"But...I don't think Dad wants to infect us too..." I try diplomatically, but the attempt at remaining calm gets me nowhere.
"No one needs to know, we'll make sure he's safe." Her eyes grow wide as mania overcomes her. "We can do whatever it takes to keep him where he is until all of this is over. A cure will come soon, won't it? There's no need for your dad to suffer unnecessarily."
"What if Dad wants to go?" I hate arguing this point, especially because Mom might well be right—she's kept up to date with this virus far better than me, after all—but someone needs to. Just in case that is the sensible option after all.
It's safe to say this responsibility isn't sitting well with me at all.
"But I..."
"Rae," her tone is warning now, she needs me to agree with her. "Think about what you're suggesting here, and for the love of God do the right thing."
"But what if we get infected too?"
"I don't mind." Mom throws her hands on her hips, the sheer madness of what this situation has done to her finally shining through. "I want to be with your father no matter what."
With that final, sweeping statement, she spins on her heels and returns to the bedroom where she can undoubtedly convince herself that this isn't the worst idea she's ever had. I turn to look at Dad with sheer terror in my eyes, but all he can give me back is a stare of resignation.
"Do you have any friends here yet?" he asks curtly. "I know you've been out a lot, but is there anyone you trust? What about that boy who's been here?"
"Zac? Sure, why?"
"I think you need to leave." He can't look at me as he says this. "I know your mom truly means what she says, she won't leave me and she won't let me go either. I genuinely think that she's gotten herself into the state where she doesn't mind if she lives or dies, so long as she stays with me."
"But...what about me?" I sound more like a child when I ask this, than I ever have done before.
"Your mom loves you, we both do." Dad wraps his arms around me and he holds me close to his body. "But right now she isn't thinking straight, and I can barely think at all. What you need to do is get yourself somewhere safe and wait this out. The Government will resolve this soon, and no matter what happens to me, I need to know that at least you are safe."
"I'm not going anywhere..."
"Rae, I'm begging you." He pulls back to give me the most desperate look of my entire life. "This might be my dying wish, all I need to know is that you're okay. Just get out of the way for now and see what happens."
I don't want to agree, that's the last thing in the world that I want, but there's a self-preservation kicking in deep inside of me. I remember the men fighting, and how scary that was, and I try to picture how I'll deal with that going on inside my own home, with my parents nonetheless. Even if I don't want to admit it to myself, there's a survival instinct in there, begging me not to die, telling me that I need to do the most selfish thing known to man.
"Okay, Dad," I eventually whisper, giving him exactly what he wants. "Whatever you say."