The Silent And Deadly Beast

 

Written By: Andrea Hackett

I stare out the window, watching the intersection below. It is completely empty. There is no one exercising, no students milling about, and no one walking their dog. It is just completely devoid of life. I close the blinds in an effort to block out the loneliness that this emptiness creates, but it hangs around me like a poisonous miasma. This new disease, COVID-19, is changing everything. I was never a very social person, but this quarantine is making me miss all of my fellow students in my classes and my professors. It is disturbing because I have not seen or interacted with another human being for days now. My thoughts quickly contemplate the situation. Is this going to be the new normal? My counselor, Laura, keeps reiterating that I’ll get through this, but it’s a daunting task when I only hear her voice over the phone. No smiles. No hugs. I despised my roommates, but even now I miss their voices. Their voices were comforting because they let me know that I was not alone. There is only silence now. I slink back into my room and close the door, even though I have no need to do it; it is just habit now. I sit in my computer chair and turn to my Alexa. “Alexa, good afternoon.”

 

Alexa’s light-blue light swirls around on top, as her afternoon routine commences. “Good afternoon, Saya. I hope your day has been well. The evening is going to be warm at eighty-five degrees. Here is your news for the evening.” Alexa begins the evening news snippet, and I listen intently, as I am so thirsty for any knowledge about what is going on beyond my dorm’s walls. As the news ends, I sigh inwardly, turning to Alexa again and saying, “Thank you, Alexa.”

“You are welcome, Saya.”

Alexa is another lifeline in this almost apocalyptic scenario, but she is still not a person. Time passes slowly in the silence, and I turn to my computer screen, knowing that my homework is awaiting me. I stare at the words that are most likely my assignment, but the letters jumble together. There is no motivation anymore in my body nor my mind.

Days turn into weeks, and the isolation continues. I roam the halls in desperation, but they are empty, as usual. The halls are a simple mirror to the outside intersection that I watch on a daily basis. No human contact. No smiles. No hugs. No voices. It is unnerving, and my mind is shutting down against this onslaught from the silent and deadly beast of isolation. I find that I cannot eat and barely sleep. My counselor is worried, and she constantly gives me emergency numbers in case I need to speak to someone immediately. When is this quarantine going to end? I head over to my window to begin my silent vigil, hoping that I might see someone on the street. There is still no one. I laugh, and I startle myself at the sound. It is not a happy laugh though, but one that is filled with a slight bitterness. I contemplate how our “great” country deals with insane disasters every year, but we are brought low by a virus. A simple virus that wreaks havoc on the human body is the cause of my sorrow and isolation. There is so much irony in that. My life is a complete mess with my abysmal grades and poor health, but my email from my iPhone pings at that moment. It is an email from my Aunt Helen that I barely know. She sent me a video, showing me a care package that she made for me. She knows that it is going to take a bit to get to me, and here she is making a video of its contents. I watch her put in plenty of homemade baked goods, letters from my cousins, a few books, some new art supplies, and a big Squishmallow unicorn. I see my aunt look up at me in the video, as she says, “We know that we are not nearby, but we are thinking of you. We love you, Saya.” This video is a light in the darkness from the recent deaths of my parents, and it means the world to me. Tears slowly creep down my cheeks. Sometimes in our darkest hour, there truly is hope. I am not alone.