I grip the counter. My breathing uneven. I look at my arm as it’s dripping with blood. My vision getting blurry. I look up at the clock in the kitchen.

“How long do I have until I’m infected..?” I mutter, “mierda..” I curse under my breath. “..I pray, I just pray that my sisters will make it fine without me..” I let go of the counter, I see him.

“Well, Zizzy. You put up quite a fight you know..” He says. My eyes widen, My time was up. I would be infected.