Etta sits on the examination bed in the school nurse's office. Knees drawn to her chest, a scratchy gray blanket draped over her shoulders, wearing a school jersey they collected from the lost and found that was three times her size. Her eyes are red-rimmed and distant, hands trembling slightly despite the warmth of the blanket. A butterfly bandage rests just above her eyebrow where a bruise is beginning to bloom. The muffled voices of officers outside the door drift in, low and tense. People were arguing.

"Ma'am please, I need you to calm down."

"She is my daughter!" The cracked voice of her mother could be heard on the other side of the door. "You are not going to keep me out here, you open that door right now!"

"We just need to ask her a few more questions...we have to follow procedure--"

"Fuck your procedure." Her mother continued to yell, "She's, my child. MINE."

The door handle rattles and Etta flinches, hands clenching the blanket tighter. The school nurse, a woman with tired eyes and soft movements, offers a strained smile as she adjusts an ice pack against Etta's forehead.

"You're doing great, sweetie. Your parents will be in soon, okay?" Her voice was gentle but unmoving. Etta could tell even she was scared...but why?

Etta doesn't respond, gaze fixed on the tiled floor—counting the cracks between them, grounding herself in the steady rhythm. Staring at her own feet as they dangle. Anything to drown out the image of Susie's clouded eyes, the gnashing teeth, the sound of nails on metal...

Suddenly, the door bursts open. Etta's mom rushes in, eyes wide and frantic, her coat slipping off one shoulder. Her dad follows, jaw tight and eyes dark with worry. She nearly trips over her own feet in her hurry, pulling Etta into a tight embrace. Etta's breath catches, the sudden warmth and the familiar scent of her mom's rose perfume, pulling a choked sob from her throat.

"It's okay. You're safe now, I promise. We're taking you home."

Her dad's hand rests firm and steady on Etta's back, a silent promise of safety. An officer steps in, clearing his throat. "We just need a few answers before—"

"She's been through enough." Her father cut in. "Whatever questions you have can wait until tomorrow."

"What about Susan?" Etta finally spoke up. "Is she okay?"

The adults just looked at each other. Her mother gently caressed the back of her daughter's hand. "Honey, do you understand what happened in the locker room today?"

"Well," Etta began, fighting to recollect some of the memories. "She wasn't feeling well, I went to the bathroom to check on her, but she was already so...sick. I don't think she understood what she was doing. Like that patient at the hospital yesterday."

"The hospital." Her mother gasped remembering the episode with a deathly ill patient.

"Is that where she is now?" Etta asked. "Is Susan being treated at the hospital? Her and the other girl."

There's a tense pause, the officer exchanging a glance with his partner before nodding reluctantly. The officers step back, murmured radio static filling the hall. "Yes honey," Her mother cleared her throat.

"Can I go see her?"

Etta watched as her mother's lower lip began to quiver. "Not today honey," her voice cracked. "But soon...I promise you."

As Etta's parents' guide her out of the nurse's office, one on each side. Etta's legs feel leaden, her grip on her mom's coat tight and unsteady. Etta was told she had hit her head hard, might even have a slight concussion but it was nothing serious to be worried about. The officers and teachers moved aside, allowing Etta to walk between the security of her parents. Nonetheless her eyes remained fixed on the passing hallway leading to the pool. A long streak of dark red stains smeared across the tiles, leading back to the bathroom.

The room is dark, save for the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp. Horse wallpaper, posters of pop bands and watercolor paintings dot the walls of her bedroom, but the space feels hollow now. As if the warmth and life has been sucked out. Etta sits cross-legged on her bedroom floor, a half-finished puzzle spread in front of her. 

She fits pieces together with shaky hands, the edges not quite aligning. Outside the door, muffled voices drift up from the kitchen. Her father's low tones, the clink of glass against granite. No sign of her mother's voice. Etta's eyes flicker to the door every few seconds, fingers stilling over the puzzle pieces.

Etta could hear him listening to the news channel on the T.V. Talks of the virus becoming more and more global, everyone seemed to be becoming frantic. Hearing it echo down the hall was beginning to stress her. She presses a corner piece into place, but it doesn't fit. Her hands tremble harder. She grits her teeth, forcing it down until the cardboard edge crumples and bends. Her eyes begin to swell up with tears. "Come on," her voice cracked, fully knowing it didn't belong there. "Fit!"

She jerks back, blinking rapidly, and rubs at her eyes with the heel of her palm. The door creaks open. Her dad steps in, shadows cutting across his face. His tie is loose, shirt wrinkled, eyes rimmed with red as well. But it's the emptiness in his gaze that makes Etta's chest go tight. "Hey kiddo. I brought you some pizza. You doing okay?"

Etta's fingers curl in the fabric of her pajamas. She nods, not trusting her voice. Her dad's eyes flit to the puzzle, then back to her. Sliding down onto the floor, he joined his daughter with the plate of food. He clears his throat. "So... your mom went back to work tonight. Emergency at the hospital...more people seem to be getting sick."

"Sick like Susie?"

"Yeah kiddo...like Susie."

She felt her stomach twist in knots. Things must have been serious, her mother usually neve rleft without telling her goodbye. Etta opens her mouth to ask, to demand, but her dad's voice cuts in, tight and strained. "Actually, I need you to start packing a bag. Just for a couple of days. We're, uh, taking a little trip. Somewhere... safer."

Safer.

The word sinks like a stone in Etta's gut. Her eyes flick to the window, to the shadows stretching long and dark across the lawn. No sirens. No lights. Just the silence, thick and unnatural. "Are we in danger?"

"No sweetheart," Her father assured her. "We are just taking precautions. You know how much your mom worries. We're going to pick her up this weekend and all drive down together."

Without a single word, Etta finally gave him a nod. He lingers a moment longer, as if wanting to say more, but instead slips back into the hall. The door clicks shut. Silence settles once more. Etta's gaze falls to the puzzle pieces scattered on the floor—the half-formed image blurred and fragmented. Her hands tremble as she reaches for another piece, but she can't make herself move.

When night fell, she found it impossible to sleep. Seeing the lamp on in the hallway, hearing the constant movement and blurred voices of her dad on the phone nearly drove her nuts. Etta's body only rested for a few hours before dawn came... along with panic.

"Etta! Get up - Now!"

Etta jolts awake, heart lurching into her throat. Her dad's silhouette fills the doorway, backlit by the hallway light, face drawn and panicked. Before she can fully sit up, he's at her side, tugging at the blankets. "We need to go. Come on, sweetie. Get your shoes on."

The urgency in his voice cuts through the grogginess. Etta throws off the blankets, stumbling to her feet, confusion muddling her thoughts. Not even changing out of her pajamas, she grabbed her things and ran to the car. "W-What's wrong? Is it mom?"

Then the sound hits her—the dull, bone-deep wail of the town's emergency sirens, shivering through the walls. Outside, car horns blare, engines rev, voices rise in panicked shouts. Her dad shoves a half-packed backpack into her hands, fingers trembling. "No time to explain! Just grab what you need. Hurry!"

Etta's fingers fumble with the zipper, heart pounding as she shoves in her personal things, a hoodie, the Cat plushie with the frayed ear that her mom gave her years ago. Her dad is already at the door, glancing back with wild eyes. She snaps out of it, slings the backpack over her shoulder, and rushes after him. They barrel down the stairs, past the overturned picture frames and the half-empty mugs abandoned on the kitchen counter. The sirens scream louder, rattling the windowpanes.

The sky is a sickly gray, sunlight struggling through heavy clouds. Cars choke the streets in a chaotic gridlock, brake lights flaring red. Neighbors dash from their houses, clutching bags, children, whatever they can carry. A woman stumbles and falls, bags spilling across the pavement. No one stops to help. Etta's dad grips her hand tight, practically dragging her down the driveway to their car. He wrenches the door open, all but shoving her into the backseat.

"Why is everyone freaking out!"

"Stay down, okay? Keep your head low."

He slams the door before she can answer, darting around to the driver's side. Etta crouches in the backseat, clutching her backpack, breaths coming fast and shallow. The sirens drown out everything. Even the low, ominous howl vibrating through the car frame. Her dad jams the keys into the ignition with a curse, hands shaking. The engine sputters, then roars to life. They lurch forward, tires screeching. 

Etta's cheek presses to the cold leather seat, eyes peering out the window. People weave between cars, faces pale and eyes wide, some dragging suitcases, others empty-handed. A man pounds on a car window, eyes desperate. An ambulance screams past in the opposite direction, lights a strobe of red and white. Etta clutches her backpack tighter, fingers digging into the fabric.

"What's going on?" Etta fought back the tears.

Her dad's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, to Etta's reflection, small and terrified in the backseat. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. He wanted to be honest with her. "It's the virus it's...changing people and doctors are having a hard time treating it...that's why mom is working so hard but people just-"

He couldn't finish; her father wasn't even sure how he could explain. However, Etta was able grasp the situation. Even though she didn't fully know. People fear what they don't understand. What they can't predict...and what they cannot stop. Without order and structure, there would be chaos, and her world was just about to turn upside down.