Dear Diary,

 My first thought of the day had been to lift my phone and look at the slew of emails that had arrived in the early hours. So many people saying the same thing, have you seen the news? Are you safe, Llewellyn, are you safe? I'd imagined them all strange, paranoid or playing some trick on me as I rolled over and went back to sleep. I was wrong, but how can I be blamed. The truth came to me later as I watched the news, bleary eyed and toast in mouth. A hospital in America they said. A Ukrainian city, a Starbucks in Minnesota. Reports seemed to pour in, faster and faster. My tea went cold. 

 I hope again that this is all some hoax, the screaming, foamy mouthed creatures filmed on phones and on news cameras merely the work of some sadist or another, a publicity stunt for the next zombie film. I hope again. 

The real world outside the television seemed much the same as usual. The traffic is the same and the buses run two minutes late. I timed them as I went to get milk. The newspapers said the same as the television, 'The end is nigh' the Daily Mail said, 'More inside' I didn't dare to look on page fifteen, where the outbreak was reportedly pictured in detail. A lady with a matching tracksuit rolled her eyes and bought her scratch-card. 

I had just finished my second cup of tea when the lights, vivid blue and painful to the eyes, pulled up. The virus is in the water. It's in the water, I drank it. I was approached by people, genders known and obscured by their white radiation suits. My blood sample was taken and my mouth swabbed. 

I am infected. 

As I write this, my fingers begin to chill and my heartbeat is slowing. We are unable to leave our homes. On the news, zoo animals are being butchered and the infection spreads in ever widening pockets. 

I drank more tea and ate my dinner, it was a steak I had saved for the weekend. I called my brother and my boyfriend and I tried not to cry as I told them I loved them. 

My saliva is turning to foam, I will go to bed, I will sleep with picture of Dylan. I hope I miss him when I have turned. This may be my final entry. Goodbye.