more for the book possibly continuing the intro

In my delusional mind, I thought I had passed something on to my mother. I began to beg for God’s forgiveness and to spare the woman, who surely did not deserve such a fate. I on the other hand carry mistakes and regrets; I carry so much baggage that I exceed the carry on limit for it simply cannot fit into the over head compartment. So I should be the one to die. All of this ate at my brain. It consumed my thoughts like acid, borrowing deep down into my core. At my worst moments, I could not go five minutes without thinking I was dying and feeling guilty for passing on this sickness to my mother. I even invented a futile attempt to free my thinking; I attached a paperclip to a rubber band and put it around my wrist. Every time I had a thought about this I would pull the paperclip back and snap it so it would forcefully hit my wrist. The first day was awful my wrist was red and raw, but I think it helped alleviate my mind for awhile. That is, until the day I saw another red dot on a coworker and then another coworker. It was spreading like a wicked cold, but managed to be unseen, unnoticed by the common man. I however, kept a constant count of how many I had on my body. I deleted those I have successfully removed. Today, I have 13. 
When I discovered the first few coworkers with these strange red dots, I really began to worry. My dreams no longer made sense; nightmare would be a pleasant idea for the dreams I had were filled with pain, grief, anger, confusion, and death, lots of death. Every new person I came in contact with who was inflicted made things worse. Afraid of the nightmares, I refused to sleep. Actually refuse implies that I had a choice- but I assure you, I never had a choice in the matter. I suffered from insomnia. Day after day, night after night, I would lay in bed eyes wide open listening to the sounds outside, listening to the sounds inside the house, listening for what I do not know- By the wee hours of the morning I would finally drift off into a sleep state that had no room for dreams. My mind and body must have been so fatigued that I simply could not dream. I say this because this was the only time I did not dream or the only time I did not remember my dreams. So in a way I cherished this sleep- a piece of solace. Yet, I always woke up lethargic. 
It was not until some time later that I finally received my answer to these mysterious dots. However, by that time it was much too late for so many people. People who I referred to as friends, as family, as lovers. In my opinion there were two waves. The first- unknown by us, unseen by us, unfelt by us carried a heavy charge. Many of the elderly, the sick, the young died within one to three days. As the number of sick grew during the first day or so, the government ordered a country wide emergency- the fist ever in our history, which stated that all citizens must stay in their homes and were not permitted to leave for any reason whatsoever. Anyone found outside their homes would be taken into custody and quarantined. Much to my dismay, I felt like I was in a movie- waiting for the blasted aliens to show up. And much like a movie anyone with symptoms had to put a white sheet on their front door, anyone who had a death at their home had to put a black sheet on their front door. Around the clock, trucks came to haul away the dead, and dispose of the bodies (I assume the latter). Trucks also came to haul away the sick. It had escaped the government’s prodigious plan about the necessity of food. So upon the second day, they ordered any family in need of such a thing to put any other color sheet on their front door provided it was not one of the aforementioned. Rations would then be provided. 
Ten days later, the ban was lifted. There had not been any new cases or deaths for the last 48 hours and it was thought therefore, that the infection had passed. My parents and I were lucky. We did not die. A month went by before the second wave hit. This was by far, the worse of the two waves because those of us still living dealt assumed we had made it, we were the survivors. The ones fate had allowed to live, allowed to carry the burden of such a heinous act. We dealt with the loss of losing so many loved ones, of wondering why we had been allowed to live, dealt with the question of God. Perhaps, if I had not been so consumed with the aftermath I would have seen it coming. Seriously. I would have synthesized the information. Referred to my previous data, Extrapolated. Formed a hypothesis- a working theory. I foolishly passed up the offer a year earlier to work at the CDC. Had I taken the job I would have been involved in it all. The data which I overlooked was this:  the dead had huge red blotches all over their deformed bodies. Link this to the dots I began to see on people. Our small red dots never went away, but became a deeper shade of red afterwards. New ones still appeared, so I should have realized the two were related somehow. This time, my father died the first day of the second wave. I pulled up his shirt and saw the tiny red dots were still tiny, but had multiplied- and formed clusters. My mother locked him in their bedroom and would not stop crying. I could not even bring myself to touch her. She died two days later in the same manner. What choice did I have but to run?