Surviving in the Apocalypse (Homesick Fanfiction)

Chapter 3 - Shattered Reality

And then—

A sudden, sharp gasp cuts through the tension. I barely register the sound before I see him—a boy with messy orange hair and black eyes filled with pain. Blood streams from a deep cut on his neck, his hand desperately trying to stem the flow. He lies sprawled on the ground, his breaths shallow and labored, eyes locking onto the purple-haired girl.

"...Rayne," he chokes out, his voice barely a whisper.

Rayne's head snaps toward him, and for a moment, the cold, predatory look in her eyes is replaced by something else—concern, fear. "Sam!!" she cries out, rushing to his side. "I told you not to move!!" Her voice is frantic, desperate, as she kneels beside him, pressing her hands over his to help staunch the bleeding.

In that brief moment of distraction, I know this is my chance. My heart races as I take a step back, then another, until I'm slipping away into the shadows, as quietly and quickly as I can. I don't dare look back. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but I don't have the luxury to process them right now. All I know is that I need to get away—away from Rayne, away from whatever horror I've just witnessed.

I keep running, my feet pounding against the cracked pavement, the buildings around me blurring into a haze of gray and shadows. I don't know where I'm going, only that I need to put as much distance between myself and that alley as possible. My breaths come in ragged gasps, my lungs burning, but I can't stop. Not yet.

Finally, I come to a stop in front of a shattered storefront. The glass of the door is splintered, fragments crunching under my shoes as I step inside. The air is thick with dust and the stench of decay, but at least it's quiet, sheltered. I stumble deeper into the store until I find a mirror, its surface cracked and dirty.

I stare at the reflection, and for a moment, I don't recognize the person looking back at me. My hair is matted with sweat, my eyes wide with fear, my skin pale and trembling. My heart pounds in my chest, a frantic rhythm that I can't seem to calm.

"Who... am I?" I whisper, my voice barely audible, as if saying it any louder might shatter whatever fragile grip I have left on my sanity. The heat of the apocalypse, the constant danger, the unending fear—it's all been too much, too fast. I haven't had a moment to process anything. I've just been running, without really understanding what's happening to me.

I close my eyes, trying to shut out the memories of what I just witnessed, but they keep coming back—Rayne's cold, hungry eyes, the blood on Sam's neck, the voice in my head. My hands start to shake uncontrollably, and I clutch the edge of the counter, trying to steady myself.

"What did I just witness?" I murmur, my voice trembling. I can't make sense of it. None of it makes any sense. I'm scared, so scared that I can hardly breathe. But I can't stop now. I can't afford to.

With one last, shaky breath, I force myself to look away from the mirror. I have to keep moving. I don't know who I am or what's happening to me, but I can't stay here. I can't let the fear consume me. Not yet.

But just as I turn to leave, I catch a movement in the mirror's reflection—something dark, shifting behind me, almost blending with the shadows. My heart skips a beat, my blood turning to ice. I whip around, eyes wide, but there's nothing there.

Only the whispering voice in my head, growing louder, more insistent.

"Serena..."

To be continued...