Seven Days Before The Apocalypse

Chapter 1 – The Deathbed Awakening

The beeping wouldn't stop.

Every few seconds it cut through the fog inside my skull, pulling me back from whatever dark place I kept slipping into. My whole body felt like it was wrapped in wet concrete. I couldn't move my fingers. Couldn't open my eyes all the way. But I could hear them. Every single word.

"How long do you think she has left?" That was Nathan. My husband. The man I gave eleven years of my life to. His voice was flat, like he was asking about the weather.

Margaret, his mother, answered without missing a beat. "The doctor told me maybe two days. Three if she's stubborn about it."

"And the insurance? Did you check?"

"I already called the company. The payout goes to the spouse automatically. Seven hundred thousand. Plus whatever she has in those stock options from her old job."

Something inside my chest twisted. Not from the sickness. From something worse.

I tried to swallow but my throat was dry and raw. They were standing right there, maybe five feet from my bed, talking about my money like I was already in the ground. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sit up and throw something at both of them. But my body wouldn't listen. It just lay there, broken and useless, while the two of them divided up what was left of me.

"What about the car?" Derek's voice now. Nathan's younger brother. The one I paid rent for three separate times because he kept getting evicted. "She drives that Honda, right? It's only two years old. I could use a car."

"Take it," Nathan told him. "I'll sign whatever needs signing once the paperwork clears."

My eyes burned behind my closed lids. Eleven years. I cooked for these people. I cleaned for them. I paid off Margaret's credit cards twice. I covered Derek's gambling debts and never told a soul. I worked fifty hour weeks and handed my paychecks over like it was my duty, and not once, not a single time, did any of them say thank you.

Then I heard footsteps. Lighter ones. Small shoes on tile floor.

"Mom." That was Lucas. Eight years old. The boy I raised from the day he was born. "Mom, is she going to die soon?"

"Probably tonight, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

"Good. Can I get a new phone then? Mia at school has the new one and mine is so old."

Nathan laughed. Actually laughed. "Yeah, buddy. Once the money comes through, I'll get you whatever you want."

I felt something crack inside me that had nothing to do with my failing organs. My fingers twitched against the bedsheet. I wanted to cry but my body didn't have enough water left for tears.

Then Margaret leaned closer. I could smell her perfume, that cheap vanilla one I bought her last Christmas because she complained I never got her anything nice enough.

"You know," she whispered, loud enough that she clearly didn't care if I heard, "I told Nathan before they got married that this girl was nothing special. Plain face. No family money. No connections. But she worked hard, I'll give her that. Worked like a mule and never complained."

"She was useful," Nathan agreed.

"And the boy isn't even hers." Margaret's voice dropped just slightly. "You think she ever figured that out?"

The beeping on the monitor went wild.

I felt my heart stutter once, then twice, then something inside me just let go. Like a rope snapping. The ceiling above me blurred into white and then into nothing, and the last thing I heard before everything went silent was Lucas asking if he could have my laptop too.

Then I opened my eyes.

Sunlight hit my face so hard I flinched. I was lying in bed. Not a hospital bed. My bed. The one with the blue sheets I bought on sale at Target three years ago. The ceiling fan was spinning slowly above me, and from down the hall I could hear Nathan yelling at Derek about something.

My hands. I looked at them. They were smooth. No IV bruises. No tape marks. I sat up and my body moved like it was supposed to, like it hadn't been rotting from the inside for months.

"Olivia! Did you pack the sunscreen or not?" Nathan's voice, annoyed and impatient, floated up the stairs.

The Miami trip. That was three years ago. We were supposed to fly out that morning, and I spent the night before packing everyone's bags because nobody in that house could fold their own clothes.

I was back. Three years before I die. And seven days before the disaster that no one believed was coming actually hits.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I picked it up and a screen I had never seen before flashed across it. White text on black background.

CASHBACK SYSTEM ACTIVATED. EVERY DOLLAR SPENT RETURNS TENFOLD. NO LIMIT. NO EXPIRATION.

I stared at it for a long time. My hands were shaking but not from fear. From something hotter. Something that had been sleeping inside me for years and was finally waking up.

I picked up my phone and called a private security company I found online. The man who answered sounded professional and bored.

"I need cameras installed in my home. Every room. Hidden. How fast can you do it?"

"Same day service is available for a rush f*e. Ten thousand dollar deposit."

"Do it."

The call ended and within thirty seconds my banking app pinged. One hundred thousand dollars, deposited from a source with no name. I refreshed the screen twice just to make sure.

It was real. All of it.

"Olivia! We're going to miss the flight! Get down here!"

Nathan's voice sounded exactly the way it always did. Irritated. Entitled. Like I existed only to make his life easier.

I walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Same tired face. Same dark circles. Same woman who spent a decade begging for love from people who saw her as nothing more than a paycheck with legs.

But my eyes looked different now. Because I remembered everything. Every word from that hospital room. Every laugh. Every plan they made over my dying body.

The pushover is dead. Revenge starts now.