"But i gave up too?" Alex asked slightly tilting her head.
Celia chuckled. "No you haven't and so have i, once you know there is hope you would eventually have to cling onto every part of it, so what if we become a demon, as long as we get to live freely who cares, everyone wants freedom."
Celia's words hung in the air, their weight pressing against Alex's chest. Freedom. It was a concept that had always felt so distant, like a dream too fragile to hold onto. And yet, here it was, spoken with such quiet conviction by a girl who was on the brink of losing everything.
Alex stared at Celia, the flicker of hope inside her growing into something more substantial. "Freedom… even if we become something else?" she asked, her voice uncertain.
Celia leaned forward, her dull eyes gaining a spark of intensity. "Especially if we become something else. Demons or not, we'll still be us—as long as we don't forget. As long as we hold onto who we are, even if it's just a shred." She paused, her gaze softening. "And maybe… just maybe, we can find a way to stay that way."
Alex's heart clenched at the thought. Stay human, even in the face of becoming something monstrous. Could it be possible? Or was it just another cruel illusion?
"But how do we do that?" Alex pressed. "Everyone says the transformation is inevitable. How do we hold onto ourselves when everything is trying to tear us apart?"
Celia's smile was small, but it carried a quiet strength. "By refusing to let go. By remembering what we're fighting for. You don't give in, Alex. Not to the pain, not to the fear, and definitely not to the voices that'll start creeping into your mind."
"Voices?" Alex's eyes widened slightly.
Celia nodded. "When it begins, you'll hear them. Whispers, screams… they'll try to convince you that you're already gone, that it's easier to let go. But you have to fight them. Push back. Remember who you are."
Alex's fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Remember who I am. The words echoed in her mind like a mantra. She could feel the weight of the unknown future looming over her, but she wasn't ready to surrender to it. Not yet.
"So..how are you feeling now" Alex asked with a whisper.
Celia smiled. "I'm managing… for now." Her voice was calm, but Alex could sense the undercurrent of exhaustion beneath it, as if every word was a battle to keep herself anchored in reality. "Some days are harder than others. The whispers… they're getting louder."
Alex's gaze softened. "Do they ever… stop?"
Celia shook her head slowly. "No. They only get worse. But you learn to drown them out, even if it's just for a little while. You hold onto the things that matter." She tapped her temple lightly. "Memories, faces, names. Anything that reminds you that you're still you."
Alex sat back, the faint hum of the overhead lights buzzing in the silence. She thought of her past—what little of it she could still remember. The streets, the cold, the hunger… the fleeting moments of warmth she found in the smallest acts of kindness. It wasn't much, but it was hers.
"What do you hold onto?" Alex asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Celia's eyes drifted to the window, where the faintest sliver of light filtered through the metal bars. "My sister," she said softly. "She was younger than me. Always looking up to me, even when I had nothing to offer." Her lips curled into a bittersweet smile. "I promised I'd protect her. But… I couldn't."
Alex's heart ached at the quiet pain in Celia's voice. "What happened to her?"
Celia's smile faltered. "She didn't make it. The sickness took her before the clinic could." She let out a shaky breath. "Sometimes, I think I hear her voice in the whispers. Like she's calling out to me from somewhere… far away."
Alex lips formed a tin line on her face. "I..i'm sorry"
Celia smiled and gently laid down back on the bed. "Don't be, for now let's sleep, it will probably take a week before you start showing symptoms, until then see you tomorrow"
Alex stared at Celia for a moment then slowly lay down on the bed and covered herself with the sheets.
She had many thoughts in her mind, but also some worry, she was now in a new world she doesn't truly understand and now she was infected by a demon turning virus with no cure. "…I don't want to die"
In truth whay she said earlier about living her life how she wants was a facade, yes she did want to live her life how she wants but what use is it when you know your going to die soon.
Alex's body was weak, her eyes were drowsy and her breath was unbalanced, she was still weak from the virus and at the same time she felt better than she had in her past life. Time passed and Alex fell into a deep slumber.
The next day, the light was slowly
filtering through the cracks in the blinds, casting thin beams across the cold, sterile room. The hum of distant machinery echoed softly in the background, a constant reminder of where they were—an isolated facility, a sanctuary for the infected, but also a prison.
Alex stirred, her body aching with the dull pain that seemed to sink deeper each day. Her limbs felt heavy, as if weighed down by an invisible force. The virus was progressing. Slowly, but surely.
She blinked the sleep from her eyes and glanced toward Celia's bed. It was empty. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, panic gripped her. Did something happen? Did the virus take her during the night.
The door to their room creaked open, and Celia walked in, carrying a tray with two small bowls of what barely passed as food. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if each one required immense effort, but there was a faint smile on her face.
"Morning," Celia greeted, setting the tray down on the small table between their beds. "Still here, huh?"
Alex exhaled, relief washing over her. "Yeah. Barely."
Celia handed her one of the bowls. "Well, 'barely' is still alive."
'
Alex took the bowl, the thin, watery soup inside rippling as her hands trembled. She hated how weak she felt, how fragile her body was becoming. "How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice raspier than she intended.
Celia shrugged, taking a sip of her soup. "Same as always. Tired. But… I made it through another night. And so did you."
"Yeah" Alex echoed, her voice soft as she stared into the bowl. The soup was bland, nearly tasteless, but it was warm. It was enough to push back the chill that never quite left her body. She forced a spoonful past her lips, feeling it slide down her throat. It wasn't much, but it was sustenance—just like Celia had said.
Celia leaned back in her chair, her eyes drifting to the window. "The sun's out," she murmured, almost to herself. "It looks peaceful, doesn't it? Like the world hasn't fallen apart."
Alex glanced toward the window. The faint light spilling through the cracks was pale, filtered by the thick clouds that seemed to linger perpetually over the horizon. It was a cruel contrast—the calm outside and the storm inside them both. "It's strange," Alex said quietly. "How everything looks normal… out there."
Celia's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Normal's a lie. Always has been." She swirled the remaining soup in her bowl. "But it's a pretty lie. One that makes you think, just for a second, that things could be different."
Alex set her bowl down, unfinished. Her hands trembled slightly, and she clenched them into fists to steady herself. "Do you think… we'll ever see it again? That kind of normal?"
Celia didn't answer immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, as if listening to something only she could hear. Her eyes darkened, and the lines of fatigue on her face deepened. "Maybe," she said at last, her voice distant. "But it won't be the same. Not for us."
Alex frowned. "Because of the virus?"
Celia nodded slowly. "Because once you've heard the whispers… once you've felt it clawing at your mind, you can't go back. Even if you survive, you're never really free of it."
The words settled heavily in the room, sinking into the silence like stones into deep water. Alex wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to shield her heart from the inevitable. "I mean, we have a chance of getting our humanity back…but we may hurt a lot of people along the way, Celia is it selfish to want to live even if you know you will hurt others eventually"
Celia paused, the spoon halfway to her lips, before lowering it back into the bowl. Her eyes locked onto Alex's, searching, as if weighing the question in her mind. The room seemed to grow quieter, the distant hum of machinery fading into the background.
"Selfish?" Celia repeated softly, almost as if testing the word. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Maybe it is. But… isn't everyone selfish in the end? People fight to survive every day, even if it costs someone else something—money, food, a life." Her gaze turned distant, lost in memories of a world where survival often came at a price. "Wanting to live, even when it means others might suffer… that's human."
Alex looked down at her hands, the faint tremor still there. She clenched them into fists again. "But… if we turn, if we lose control… what if we hurt people we care about? What if we become the monsters everyone fears?"
Celia's expression hardened, a flicker of something determination, or perhaps defiance lighting up her eyes. "That's the risk, isn't it? But monsters don't think about the people they hurt. They don't worry about holding onto their humanity." She reached out, placing a hand over Alex's. "The fact that you're asking this question? It means you're not gone. Not yet."
Alex swallowed, the lump in her throat tightening. "But how long can we hold on? How long before… before we stop caring?"
Celia's grip tightened, her fingers cold but steady. "Hey, even if we escape and survive, even if we do become demons eventually, that doesn't mean we have to be bad demons, yes it may be tough but..but atleast we can survive, even if some don't show it, a demon has a heart or few."
Alex blinked, unsure if she heard Celia correctly. "A demon… with a heart?" Her voice wavered between disbelief and curiosity. "I thought demons were just… monsters. Something that loses everything that makes it human."
Celia smiled faintly, her eyes reflecting a quiet wisdom forged through suffering. "That's what they want you to believe. But even demons remember who they were, deep down. Some might forget, consumed by the hunger and the rage, but others? They hold onto something pain, love, regret, or even hope. Something keeps them tethered."
Alex didn't know how to reply, she stayed silent for a while before looking up at Celia. "Maybe you are right, thanks for the advice and also if you're not sure you can hold the pain…you can come to me"
Celia put a hand on her mouth. "Could it be?"
"huh?" Alex asked.
"You like girls?!"
Alex blinked, her face flushing with surprise at the unexpected question. "Wha—? No!" she stammered, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. "I mean, I—I'm not sure what you mean. I just… I just want to help."
Celia's eyes twinkled mischievously as she grinned. "Sure, sure," she teased, clearly enjoying the reaction. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find me."