Faylake(not a final title) - [Original Story] / Pt. 1

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Not a day goes by that I don't think about my past, my childhood, trying to recall any details about the sickness that plagued the lives of the people from Faylake. And every day I stumble into what feels like a black concrete wall in my memory, preventing me to reach further into my five year-old mind. No matter how hard I concentrate and try to think, I can't reach any further than the very last few days of my time living in that dreadful village. The only images stuck in my mind are the very ones I want to forget. The only smell that comes back to me is rotten, like something between a field shit hole and a road kill which stayed in the burning soon for a week or two. It's the smell of live, decomposing flesh of the people from my village. The sickness was spreading fast and just in a few days after the breakout almost every adult in the village was coughing out blood and small chunks of their insides, bits of their lungs and breathing channels. The flesh that was on the outside reeked to high heavens and they were losing their hair, one strand at a time. But not the children. Whatever this disease was it didn't seem to affect any of the young directly. We have only experienced sever nausea from the smell and a series of blackouts and memory loss. I was one of the few lucky ones who were saved from that hell. For that I have to give my thanks to Darlene, the only other distant relative my family has. She and her husband lived in a big city, far from Faylake and as soon as they heard about the horrors in the village they came for me and my parents, to take us somewhere safe. But it was already too late for my sweet mother and father. By the time Darlene and Joseph managed to get to the village, my parents were already sick for more than three days and they were due for a quarantine. The last day before my salvation haunts me for the past thirty years. My mother's ear piercing screams of pain and my father's hopeless crying still echo in my head like distant animal noises in the night. The most disturbing thing I remember were their eyes, red as an open wound, bleeding from their corners, oh god, it was like staring at savage beasts and not my, my par..
"I'm sorry I can't, I just can't talk about it anymore it's too much", Hamond burst into tears.
"It's fine Hamond, just breathe now, it's all fine", Dr. Winston tried to get him to calm down.
"NOTHING IS FUCKING FINE, we have been doing this for weeks now and nothing, NOTHING is coming back to me. Everything is bloody pointless. I'm telling you this story over and over and I can't remember anything about how it all began. Like it even matters. My parents are laying dead in some ditch for the past thirty years, there is no grave I can visit, no way to say goodbye and the visions just won't bloody stop. It's been a month and still I see my dead father, mutilated beyond recognition, like some zombie staring at me every time I close my eyes."
"I know it's difficult Hamond, and I can't even begin to imagine how you feel, but you have to understand that it's all in your head, buried somewhere deep inside your subconsciousness. It's probably just all the stress from your work getting the best of you. Here, I want you to try these pills, they are much stronger than the ones you've been using so far, perhaps they will help you clear your mind."
Of course, another fucking dose of pills, Hamond thought to himself, but he was too exhausted and shook from digging inside his own head so he just nodded.
"I'm sorry doc, I know you're just trying to help me, but it can be so difficult putting up with it all. I'll see you in three days. Goodbye."
"Goodbye Hamond, try and get some rest, maybe take a few days off."
Hamond rushed out and shut the ordination door behind him.

To be continued...