Telling my parents the truth was harder than facing zombies.
How do you tell the people who love you most that the world is about to end?
That they will die trying to save you?
I stood outside my father's office, my hand frozen mid-air before knocking.
In my previous life, this building became a graveyard.
The first infected employee had staggered in from the lobby—bleeding, screaming.
Everyone thought it was an accident.
Until he bit someone.
Then another.
Chaos erupted within minutes.
We were unprepared.
I swallowed hard and stepped inside.
"Dad, Mom… I need to talk to you about emergency preparedness."
They exchanged curious glances but listened as I spoke about strengthening evacuation protocols, private shelters, and advanced security systems. I couldn't tell them everything—not yet—but I saw something shift in my father's eyes.
Trust.
"Alright," he said slowly. "We'll review your proposal."
This time, we would not be defenseless.
I doubled my training.
I chose Krav Maga—a martial art built for survival. No wasted movements. No mercy. Every strike meant to disable.
Bruises bloomed across my arms as I relearned how to break holds, counter knife attacks, disarm opponents.
Pain was nothing compared to being devoured alive.
I also returned to the shooting range.
The first time I pulled the trigger again, my hands shook.
Bang.
The recoil jolted through me, but I forced myself to breathe steadily. Again.
Bang.
Headshots.
Efficient. Controlled.
But bullets run out.
I remembered the sound of empty clicks in my past life.
So I learned archery.
Drawing a bow required patience and strength. My shoulders burned as I practiced hitting targets from increasing distances.
Silent.
Reusable.
Deadly.
If the world collapsed again, I would never be helpless.
But training didn't erase memory.
The day everything fell apart still haunted me.
We were all in this building when the first bite happened.
Screams echoed down the hallways. Blood stained the marble floors. Employees turned within minutes.
My parents called me again and again.
"Where are you? Get to the parking level. Now."
They could have escaped immediately. Our family had a secure location outside the city.
But they waited.
For me.
For us.
I remember finding them near the exit, fighting through a growing swarm.
Kevin was beside me—but he kept looking around frantically.
"Where's Chelsea?" he shouted.
Even then.
Even as the world burned.
He was looking for her.
"I'm not leaving without Kevin!" I screamed at my parents.
Foolish. Blind.
They grabbed my arms, pulling us toward the car.
Then it happened.
A zombie lunged from behind.
My mother shoved me aside.
My father swung a metal rod.
Too late.
Teeth sank into their flesh.
"Run!" my father roared, pressing the car keys into my trembling hands. "Drive!"
Mom was already crying but smiling at me.
"Live, Mia."
I watched the infection spreading through their veins.
They knew.
I knew.
They would turn any second.
I drove away screaming, tears blinding me as I saw them disappear in the rearview mirror,
Surrounded.
Waiting for me to survive.
I gripped the bow tighter in the present.
Never again.
This time, I will drag them out of that building before the first scream.
And if Kevin hesitates.
I won't.