Don’t touch me. Don’t look at me. I am falling apart. My jaw has loosened and it’s slipping—slipping like everything else! The wounds that cover my face, they’ll never heal. I can’t accept it. This face I wear, it’s won me prizes, attention… it practically paid my way through school. How do I let my body just slip? The virus isn’t what worries me, it isn’t the thought of losing my humanity, or even my life… the fact that I will become one of them, my perfect skin melting off of my perfect face. I saw one of them, his eyeball had fallen right out of the socket. So, here I lie on the side of the road. I can still feel the blood gushing from my more fatal wounds. I am not ready to die because I am not ready to give up my most prized possession—my face.