The first thing I did when I woke up was check whether I was still dying.My hand flew to my thigh, searching for the wound that had refused to stop bleeding. I dragged my fingers over smooth skin, then checked my ankle. No blood, no swelling, no broken bones.I sat up so quickly that the room tilted.Pale blue curtains hung beside the window, and morning sunlight stretched across the wooden floor. Somewhere downstairs, a woman was arguing over a delivery that had arrived at the wrong address. The ordinary sounds of the house made my stomach tighten. Here, the water still ran, the electricity worked, and nobody was barricading doors against the infected.I knew this room. The crack above the wardrobe, the faded mark on the wall, the bedside drawer that always stuck unless I lifted it slightly before pulling.My bedroom.My old bedroom.I grabbed my phone. My hands shook so badly that I entered the wrong password twice before the screen unlocked.October 14.I checked the year.Thirty
Last Updated : 2026-10-25
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