Lee Par Ma Signature

“You are a waste of resources.”

Clara barely heard her husband’s words. She stared at him through the bars of the gate, struggling to believe he was actually going to leave her outside.

She gripped the gate tightly and glanced over her shoulder. The infected were getting closer, their growls echoing down the street as they stumbled toward her, bloodied faces twisted with hunger.

The world around them had changed beyond recognition. Abandoned cars littered the streets, while burned-out buildings stood like empty shells.

There was no electricity or running water anymore. Only the distant screams of the infected and the occasional crack of gunfire reminded Clara that the world she once knew was gone.

“Mark, please,” she begged again. “Just open the gate.”

He stared at her through the bars before shaking his head. “You're not coming in.”

Clara's eyes filled with tears as she tightened her grip on the gate. “This is my house.”

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and Mark's expression immediately changed.

For years, Clara had avoided reminding him of that fact. The house had belonged to her long before they married because her parents had left it to her.

She had never wanted to use that against Mark because she knew how much his pride mattered to him, so she had allowed him to feel like the man of the house.

But now, with death closing in, she had no choice.

“You know this house belongs to me,” she said, her voice shaking. “I never wanted to throw that in your face because I didn't want to hurt your pride, but you're leaving me outside my own home.”

Mark's jaw tightened, and instead of showing any shame, anger flashed across his face.

“Your house?” he scoffed. “Don't act like you built this place yourself.”

“I never said I did.”

“I worked for this family while you sat around with that fat ass of yours,” he said.

Mark only stepped closer to the gate.

“Do you think putting your name on a house makes you more important than me?” he asked bitterly. “I stayed with you despite your weight, and I've spent years waking up beside you while pretending I wasn't ashamed of having a wife who looked like that.”

Clara's eyes burned with tears. She had heard variations of those words for years, but hearing them now, when she was starving, exhausted, and surrounded by death, made something inside her finally break.

“You knew why I gained weight,” she said quietly. “The doctors told you.”

“I don't care.”

“You knew I couldn't control it.”

“And yet you did nothing about it,” he replied, nonchalantly.

“I tried.”

Mark rolled his eyes as though her pain meant nothing to him.

“You always have an excuse.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. Even now, with death only seconds away, he still had to remind her that she was too big, too useless, and too much of a burden.

Clara hadn't chosen the body Mark hated so much. Her doctors had explained that a hormonal imbalance was causing her weight to increase, but Mark had never cared enough to listen.

A loud growl came from behind her, making Clara spin around. One of the infected had almost reached the gate, and she stumbled backward in panic.

“Open the door!”

Her husband simply shook his head before stepping away from the entrance. A second later, the door slammed shut.

Clara stood there for a moment, staring at it in disbelief, until another growl snapped her back to reality.

Survival took over, and she turned and ran.

Her legs felt as though they could give out at any moment. She had barely eaten in days, and hunger twisted painfully in her stomach with every step, but she forced herself forward until she reached the first house.

“Please! Help me!” she cried, pounding on the door. “Please, they're coming!”

Someone appeared behind the window, but the moment they saw Clara, the curtain was pulled shut and the lock clicked.

“No!” Clara cried as she backed away.

For a few seconds, Clara couldn't move. Then she heard the growls and the heavy footsteps approaching from every direction. When she slowly lifted her head, she saw infected coming from the road, the alley, and the broken buildings around her.

An infected suddenly lunged at her, Clara screamed as its teeth sank into her shoulder. Pain exploded through her body as she fought wildly, striking it with the piece of wood until another infected knocked her to the ground.

The sky spun above her, and she struggled to breathe as more infected surrounded her.

Clara stared at her house one last time, but no one came to her rescue. No one opened the gate, and no one seemed to care that she was about to die.

Tears slipped down her cheeks.

An infected lunged at her. Her fingers curled into the dirt as she whispered through her tears, “If I had another chance…”

Her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue.

“I would never trust you again. I would never beg anyone for mercy, and most importantly, I would take the apocalypse into my own hands and turn their nightmare into my revenge.”

The moment Clara lost consciousness, the houses, her husband Mark, the infected, and everything around her disappeared.

The world fell silent, so completely that it felt as though something unseen was listening.

Ding!

[Welcome back, Reclaimer.]