THE DEADLY OUTBREAK OF A VIRUS
I still remember that day clearly. The air was still and cold. The sky was a perfect pale blue. The sun has just risen, weak and watery looking like it has just spilled itself on the horizon and is too lazy to clean itself. My parents and my younger brother Rizwan were away in my grandfather's house as he was very sick. As I was a very energetic and active teenager, I never listened to the advice of my aunt Nazia to stay in the house as there was an outbreak of a virus.
It was 11 am when I left my house to explore the busy, wide roads of Bahrain. The fast-food restaurants were quickly filled by throngs of ravenous youth, who eagerly filled their stomach with meals slathered in fats and guzzling acidic drinks.
A homeless man sat in the corner with a board that said "Need money for food" right beside an opulent hotel as people dressed ostentatiously ignored him and continued to show off.
I picked a few coins from my leather jacket and let them slip into his bowl trying hard to avoid his pleading gaze as much as possible. From a nearby store, I bought some snacks and a cold drink. While exploring I saw an old woman. Her white hair licked and lapped in the breeze like a crackling fire.
"She must be very poor," I thought, judging her by the old, torn dress she wore even in this cold weather. She was constantly coughing. She worked her way through the crowd unnoticed, like water filtering through the cracks in the sidewalk.
I followed her to her house which was just an old tent. There were two boys there in the same state as their mother, coughing and looking tired. Their mother hugged them as she settled down and gave them each a loaf of bread. I felt very bad for them so I went near and gave the old lady my snacks and a cold drink while she constantly thanked and hugged me.
Pleased by the kindness I showed today, I went home and ate the delicious biryani cooked by Aunt Nazia, forgetting to wash my hands properly. After a week I started feeling weird. I started having a dry cough, headache, nausea, etc but I thought it's just a common cold. But after almost two weeks I started having breathing problems and a severe headache. I heard my aunt calling my parents before I dozed off.
When I woke up I saw my mother, carrying little Rizwan and crying and my father was calling an ambulance. I was shocked as my father is a doctor and he treats me himself even though I have a high fever and he never takes me to a hospital.
After some time, I saw blue and red lights from my window and two men entered my room and put me in the ambulance. They were fully covered from head-to-toe and were wearing an N95 mask.
The last face I saw was my mother's, her eyes were dark red and she was sobbing. I tried to find my voice to say goodbye even though it was not good, the ambulance doors closed. One of the doctors sat almost six feet away from me and told me that I am diagnosed with Covid-19 and my family members are not allowed to meet me until I fully recover.
The old lady's kind face came to my mind. Little did she know she gave me something that can even take my life.
Those were the last moments of my life.
In the third week, my immune system completely lost the war against Coronavirus. I was put on the ventilator but didn't survive. The last thing I thought was about my family. My parents, my little brother who will never see me again. My aunt, who constantly told me to stay at home but I never listened to her.
Well, it's too late for me but it's not too late for you!
WRITTEN BY: Chandrika Kumari, 16