They brought him to this facility with great difficulty. Unlike everyone else quarantined here, only one of his eyes showed the black tainted shadow of infection. The other, his right eye, was pure green fire. My nurse said he'd be put into the trial group immediately. Someone with that little of the infection was a valuable opportunity.
I was not allowed to be in any drug trial. I was not allowed outside. The shining black voids where my own eyes used to be no longer bothered me. My moon face, dark skin and golden hair- defining features given to me by my parents- were still there. I still felt like me. But this virus had darkened the windows to my soul and started to eat me away from the inside. I was no longer allowed to wander without a black protective mask over my mouth and nose.
I made it a point to visit the room of the spirited young man who'd been quarantined today.
But it was dark and empty. I thought myself a fool and turned to leave.
Then I felt someone yank my hair with such force my head flipped back. Something cold and stinging was pressed against my neck.
"What the fuck are you here for?" he said. It was the first time I'd heard his voice up close. It was deep and dark. I shivered.
He moved into my field of sight again and showed me the scalpel he held. I tried to speak.
"Get this fucking thing off of your face." He sliced the straps of my mask even as I shook my head. He accidentally cut the skin on my right cheek.
"I could get you sick," I said.
"I'm sick already." He pointed the scalpel to his left eye where the faint ebony shadow sat.
"They think I can make people worse."
"They don't know what to think anymore. They think this virus kills people, but I saw old men who'd lived with it forever! They are just so frightened they can't see straight. And that is why we are all put away as soon as it leaves us marked. I'm not afraid of you." he said. He got face to face with me. I could feel his breath. I could smell it, faintly sweet like nectar. I leaned in, I wanted to kiss him.
He cut my other cheek. I didn't withdraw from him, I couldn't stand to. I simply could not pull myself from him.
"Fearless?"
"What should I be afraid of?" I said.
"I could maim you. Bleed you dry. Maybe leave you a beautiful corpse on the floor?"
"Beautiful?" I said. He moved closer to me. Our lips barely touched. He was so warm.
He turned me around and shoved me until I stood in the corner. He put the scalpel to my throat.
"I do think you are beautiful this way... And I'm not going to ask your permission." He trailed the scalpel down my back and then slid it under my gown. He cut off my panties, and cut too deeply, leaving a burning gash that oozed blood down my leg. He moved the small blade over my breasts, not pressing down, not drawing blood, but making me breathe hard all the same.
