So there it is. My big ol’ secret. I was bitten and here I am, alive, four years later, to tell you this tale. I suppose you might have a few questions.

 

Dad, if I was bit…would you…?

Kill you?

I nod at him.

Yes.

Really?

It was his turn to nod.

But what if there was a chance that I might survive it?

Jay, we have been over this. No one survives. Dad is patient.

Maybe because we don’t give them the chance! I cry shrilly.

Dad sighs as I storm outside, an 11-year-old whirlwind of angst.

I used to pepper him with ideas; what about holding cells or we could tie them up! He shot down every one. He says he lived in a prison once and even that didn’t save them. No matter where he has lived and what they have done, people who attempt to keep them ‘alive’ end up dying themselves. I don’t mention it anymore; Dad says it was a phase I was going through, just like when I wanted to be a vegetarian.

I haven’t forgotten. I won’t ever forget. As I got older, I asked different questions, with the same amount of luck.

But what about a vaccine?

We are survivors, not scientists.

We could find some!

Scientists with working labs aren’t exactly a dime a dozen, Jay.

 

In his dark periods, Dad thinks this is all a sign. Humans were a plague on the earth, and now Mother Nature is getting a chance to reassert herself. Who are we to mess with that? he asks.

So, my secret is my survival. I can’t die at the hands of my father, for his sake and mine. I kill others to save myself, even my best friend. It is a cop out to believe that I am looking towards the ‘greater good’, but I have to, otherwise I would drown in my guilt and shame.

Until the time is right, I will keep doing my job and living my lie.

Can you bear to stick with me?