I scrurried around your feet the day you feel terribly ill. You figured that my scratching at your swollen feet was just a plea for food. Little did you know that my licking of your wounds had spread my noxious disease.
I watched you from the holes in your walls as you writhed in pain, night after night. I watched you as the village doctors told you there wasn't a cure yet. I watched you as you begged your father to let you leave for the city, to find a cure.
I watched you die as your mother laid the bedsheets over your sunken face. I watched as your lifeless hand fell from your bed and hit the floor. I watched your sister kiss your oozing cheek during your wake.
I watched them bury you in the backyard. I killed you. I watched you. I watched your kid sister pass it to her friends. I watched her pass it on, not knowing she is immune. I watched her survive what killed you. I watch her.
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