My name is Melanie Wilson. I have always been a good swimmer. Actually that is a lie, as far back as I can remember I have been an excellent swimmer. My father tells me that there were times when I was younger that I was awful at swimming. Funny thing is, I don't remember my childhood beyond the age of about nine. 

When I was just eight years old I fell into a coma, I was severely ill and spent almost a year in hospital, undergoing tests and operations. Doctors are amazed I survived at all. Bu...

Mel. Don't leave your sneakers at the bottom of the stairs. I can't keep telling you!" 

That's my dad, Raymond Wilson. Shouting up to me from the bottom of the stairs, again. He doesn’t so much yell, but his tone let's me know there is a great deal of disappointment in his voice. He tells me about my sneakers a million times a week, and yeah, I always forget. I kick them off after getting home and head to my room, slump onto my bed and throw on my headphones. 

Dad rushed me to the hospital, scooting me into the emergency department and demanding to see someone right away. As always, he was over reacting and I felt a little embarrassed for him. I was fine, I felt fine. Just a little weirded out by the vivid dream. Why did someone shoot my mom? Is that how she really died? Or has my brain developed some elaborate messed up dream to torture my night? Why had my ears bled? Why do I feel fine? 

 

I was quickly taken to a side room for examinat...

When I woke up I felt as sick as a dog. I was still in hospital but this was a private room, pristine white and void of any windows. A solo door was on the left-hand side, a glass pane at the top with a slatted blind to cover it from the outside. I tried to sit up and could again feel thick restraints on my limbs and upper body. 

The blind outside moved followed by the door clicking, a buzzer sounded and he door opened. It was doctor Watkiss. 

"Melanie. I'm so glad that you are fina...

The drive home was strange, Dad barely said two words to me, focussing on the freeway with a rigid posture. 

"If you need to ask me anything, go right ahead. I'll be up front with you." He finally said. 

"Maybe you should have tried that years ago." He didn't deserve that, I instantly wanted to snack those cruel words back. 

"I deserve that. Your right." He remained staring at the road, his jaw set hard. 

"No. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry." I fo...

I was dried and changed, slipping on my sneakers just as the rest of the team were heard making their way to the shower room. I grabbed my rucksack and darted down the locker room before anyone saw me. 

I was dreading this moment now as I trudged the hallways towards the principles office. It was in the other building opposite the sports complex, so the dreaded walk was much shorter than I would have liked. 

I approached the Secretary who instructed me to take a ...

My request was met with awkward silence before Doctor Watkiss continued with his work, "That would not be advisable Melanie." He turned towards a small cylindrical device and began to place the blood samples inside. 

"I need to meet the man who exposed me to this virus, I need him to tell my why he did this to me." 

I was shut down in an instant, my demand was only met with further disapproval. "It is not going to happen Miss Wilson." 

He had used my name in a formal...

We got home and I kicked off my sneakers at the bottom of the stairs. I started a jog up the steps only to spin around and snatch my footwear off the floor and continued my stride up to my room. 

I wrenched my jacket off my shoulders and tossed it onto my swivel chair, then I launched myself onto the bed. Yanking the covers over myself I sobbed uncontrollably in the darkness of my room. 

"I was infected with a virus that would do one of two things. Either I would be killed outright ...