When gazing into her eyes, the rest of the world simply ceased to be. All that existed was her and I at that place, at that time. Gently we swayed back and forth, like the leaves of a tree on a gusty Autumn day. Rocking forward and backward, we held each other in our arms. Her skin was warm, and I became entrapped in her aura.

My muscles relaxed and soon enough, I was no longer conscious of our movements. My body went on autopilot as we danced to the beat of our hearts, conjoined as one. I was in heaven, for my love was alive again. I closed my eyes, smiling in contentedness.

Drip.

I heard a wet splash. At the same time, liquid pooled onto my hand. Its warmth juxtaposed the suddenly cold surface I felt pressed against me. My eyes sprung open. The once lively eyes of Elizabeth were now sunken and dull. Her appearance was now ghoulish, and her skin appeared to stick closely to her bones.

Looking down at my hands, I saw that they had been covered with blood. A large laceration covered the surface of her stomach, and the stench of charred flesh infiltrated my nostrils. I shoved her away from me and collapsed to the floor. I only had a split second to process what had happened before thick chunks of vomit erupted from my throat.

I wish I had not met her gaze again. Her sweet smile had transformed into a sickening grin. She dragged herself towards me, leaving a streak of blood and pus in her path. I attempted to get up and stumble away from her, but to no avail. I felt nauseous and struggled to do anything besides clumsily shuffling away. I grimaced in pain as I felt her latch onto my arm, digging her yellowish, rotten nails into my skin.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She used her momentum to lunge at me, shoving me to the ground and landing on top of me. I screamed and I fought and I clawed at her, desperate to get her off of me. Somehow, even though her body appeared rotten and broken, she overpowered me, scraping and clawing at my flesh. Then…

I felt a tug on my beige shirt. A tiny hand gripped the polyester fabric. I picked myself up from the floor and looked down at my son. He looked back up at me, a look of concern and fear on his face. A puddle of vomit and tears occupied the floor beside where I had collapsed. Did I imagine everything? No, I quickly realized that wasn’t the most important question at that time.

Had my boy witnessed what had just happened? How could I have allowed myself to appear so weak in front of him… A boy is meant to see his father as a superhero. A strong man who can persevere through anything. Not only had that persona collapsed in the hospital, but it collapsed here as well. What would he think of me?

Regret and dismay ran through my veins at that moment, but those feelings were interrupted as Sean embraced me with as much strength as his little arms could muster. I froze, and then gently reciprocated his embrace. He had seen me collapse, seen me cry, seen me at my most vulnerable. Yet, when I looked upon my son, comforting me when I needed it most, I didn’t see a child who felt disappointed in his father. All I saw was an act of compassion.

Not wanting to weep more than I already had, I let go of Sean and stood upright. He was only a child and had already suffered the loss of his mother. At such a young age, I doubted he had much understanding of the concept of death at all. But I knew for certain he missed Elizabeth, and so I knew I had to be there for him. I promised then and there, that I would be strong for Sean.