Work Text:
"The World Health Organization has asked for the cooperation of many nations in this dire crisis - "
She fiddles with the knob, changing to another station, huffs in frustration when she realizes all of the radio stations were playing the same broadcast. She scoffs, what did she expect? The broadcast hasn't been updated for five months, the Internet went down three months ago, the local news became quiet for two months and then, the silent acceptance amongst those that had remained in this world. She decides to shut off the radio, letting the silence settle around her until she couldn't handle it. And, now I just sit in silence.
Her vision starts to waver, her hands trembling as she groaned, the pain wracking through her weakened body, blood slowly drizzling out of her nose, her eyes red, effects of the deadly disease ravaging her body. She huffs angrily, shaking off the pain for a second to play some music from her phone. She lets out a bitter laugh as her phone starts playing Drive by Halsey, the first song she had played on her car radio after obtaining her driving license.
All we do is drive, all we do is think about the feelings that we hide.
She lets the song filled in the silence of her family home, devoid of life except for her and her cat, Sherlock. He purrs against her cheek as she continues laying there on the ground, surrounded by memories of her deceased family members. The disease had taken them, one by one, her Mama went first, dying in a hospital bed, surrounding by her family, Baba, her siblings and herself. Mama was a healthcare worker, a physiotherapist, but, after the disease had quickly spread, the hospitals had quickly become overwhelmed with the influx of infected patients and there was not enough doctors, nurses and paramedics. She was on duty and somehow, even after using PPEs, she still got infected, as many health workers did. Then, Baba passed away by the same disease. Her siblings followed suit and she bitterly laughed, angry at how her younger siblings died before her, while she who was the first child, didn't. She couldn't bury them properly as the mandate had stated that the dead had to be cremated, to avoid the disease from spreading. After their deaths, she knew she was next, so, she had left the hospital, signing her AMA and returned to her family home. She'd rather die in her family home than at the hospital, surrounded by dying patients and sick doctors, no cure in sight.
When she went home, she was greeted by a happy Sherlock, a dead bird in his mouth. He was a self-sufficient cat and his instincts were sharp as his behavior changed, purring and meowing against her legs, sad yellow eyes looking at her. He knew she was dying and he wouldn't leave her alone, spending her remaining time with him, listening to songs, walking around the house painfully, crying at the surfacing memories of her family, listening to the radio to see if there were any changes. That was a week ago and her health had deteriorated quickly, her appetite barely there as she kept vomiting, coughing out blood, constant nosebleeds, weakened muscles, distorted vision and the pounding in her brain.
She was ready to die.
Sherlock whined, pawing her dirty shirt in desperation, her breathing becoming more erratic as time went on, coughing out more blood, eyes glazed as she weakly patted Sherlock.
"You'll be fine. The door's open, you can go," she nudged him but he refused to move, laying his head against her chest. "Well, I'm sorry for leaving you then."
New Romantics by Taylor Swift starts playing next, Sherlock's desperate meows becoming louder as she starts losing feeling of her hands, her silent, bloody tears falling down her face, vision fading in and out.
Baby, we're in the new romantics. The best people in life are free.
"Huh, I'll be free after I'm dead. Sorry, Taylor," she bitterly says, coughing out more blood.
She mutters her prayers under her breath, hoping God would forgive any of her sins, hoping her family was there, on the other side, waiting for her. Sherlock purrs once again, yellow eyes peering into her, seemingly accepting what was happening in front of him.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock, for leaving you. I love you. I'm going to see Mama, Baba, Aiden, Andrew and Allie."
Her vision darkens, Sherlock's whimpers and Taylor's voice, surrounding her. But, before her life fades away, footsteps approached her dying body, kneeling down and a hand gently caressing her face, seemingly ignoring the smell of blood and vomit permeating in the air.
"I'm sorry, child, but I have more suitable plans for you."