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Harlow woke up to a world in ruins.
Her eyes blinked open to a gray, ash-filled sky, her head pounding, her body aching all over. The ground beneath her was rough, jagged—broken pieces of concrete and shattered glass. She couldn't remember how she had ended up here. One minute, everything had been normal—she'd been with her family, her aunts and uncles, and her dad. The next thing she knew, everything had started to collapse around them.
Now, there was nothing but destruction.
She sat up slowly, her hands trembling as they brushed against the dirt and debris scattered around her. Her clothes were torn, filthy with dust and ash, her hair matted and stuck to her sweaty forehead. She winced as a sharp pain shot through her skull, making her feel dizzy and nauseous. Her head was throbbing, like she had hit it hard—maybe when everything came crashing down.
Harlow tried to steady herself, pushing through the disorientation. Panic clawed at her chest as she looked around, her heart hammering faster with each second. The world was a wasteland. Buildings were nothing but crumbling ruins, smoke rising in plumes from what was once a city. Everything was quiet, too quiet, like the life had been sucked out of the world.
"Dad?" she croaked, her voice hoarse and dry, barely more than a whisper. "Dad?"
No answer.
Her breathing quickened, panic settling in deeper. Where was everyone? Her dad, her aunts and uncles—Klaus, Vanya, Luther, Allison—where were they?
She forced herself to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her as she stumbled through the rubble, her small frame weaving in and out of what was left of the wreckage. She had to find them. She had to.
"Dad!" she called again, louder this time. Her voice cracked, fear lacing every syllable. "Aunt Allison! Uncle Klaus! Anybody!"
Still nothing. The silence was unbearable.
She scrambled over a broken piece of wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps now as tears welled up in her eyes. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into the nightmare. She didn't know where she was going—she was just running, running and screaming for anyone, hoping that someone would answer.
"Dad!" she screamed again, her voice desperate, raw with fear. "Where are you? Please! Someone!"
Her feet tripped over something, and she fell hard onto the ground, her knees scraping against the rough surface. But the pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered except finding her family, finding her dad.
She scrambled up again, barely registering the blood dripping from her hands and knees, the sting of her injuries dulled by the adrenaline coursing through her. She wiped at her tear-streaked face, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, faster and faster, blurring her vision as she ran through the wreckage, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears it drowned out everything else.
Then she saw it.
She froze, her breath catching in her throat.
Ahead of her, partially buried beneath a pile of rubble, was a figure. A familiar figure, one she would recognize anywhere.
It was her dad.
"Dad?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she slowly moved toward him. "Dad, no... no, no, no..."
Her legs buckled beneath her as she collapsed beside him, her hands shaking violently as she reached out to touch him. He wasn't moving. His body was still, too still, and there was blood—so much blood—streaking his face, his clothes. The rubble around him was stained red, and Harlow's heart shattered into a million pieces as she realized the horrible truth.
He was gone.
"Dad, please..." she sobbed, her hands gripping his arm, shaking him gently as if that would wake him up. "Please, wake up... you have to wake up. Please, Dad, I need you. Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me..."
Her cries grew louder, more desperate, but no matter how much she begged, how much she pleaded, he didn't move. He didn't wake up. He was gone.
Harlow's heart felt like it was being ripped apart. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his blood-stained shirt as she clung to him, refusing to let go. She was shaking all over, her body wracked with sobs as she cried harder than she ever had in her life.
"Please, Dad," she whimpered, her voice barely audible now. "Please don't leave me. I need you..."
The world around her seemed to fade, everything becoming a blur of pain and grief. She felt so small, so helpless, lost in a world that had been destroyed, with nothing left but the broken pieces of her heart.
She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, sniffling as she forced herself to stand, her legs weak and shaky. She couldn't stay here. She had to keep moving. There had to be something, someone out there who could help her. She had to survive.
Her head still pounded as she stumbled away from her father's body, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. She wandered through the rubble, her eyes scanning the ground for anything that might help her—food, water, something. Anything. But all she saw was destruction.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, she saw a figure.
Harlow's breath caught in her throat again as she cautiously approached, her heart pounding in her chest. It was a man, slumped over on the ground, wearing a blue suit. His face was pale, lifeless, and in his hand, he clutched a briefcase. He didn't look like anyone she knew—just another victim of whatever disaster had wiped out the world she'd known.
But that briefcase—it might have something useful inside. Food, maybe. Or something to help her survive. She needed to check.
She knelt beside the man, her hands trembling as she reached for the case, gently prying it from his cold, stiff fingers. Her heart was racing, her mind too frantic to focus on anything but survival. She fumbled with the latches, trying to figure out how to open it.
Just as her fingers found the right mechanism and the briefcase clicked open, something strange happened. A bright light burst out of the case, surrounding her, and before she could even react, the world around her shifted. It felt like the ground was yanked out from beneath her feet, and suddenly, everything was spinning.
Harlow gasped, her vision swimming, and then—just as quickly as it had started—it stopped.
When she opened her eyes, she wasn't in the ruined, desolate world anymore.
She was standing on a street, surrounded by people in old-fashioned clothes, cars from a different era driving past. The air smelled clean, the sun was shining, and everything was... normal.
Harlow blinked in confusion, her heart still racing as she looked around, disoriented. She didn't understand. Where was she? What just happened?
She looked down at the briefcase, still clutched in her hands, her mind reeling. She had no idea how, but somehow, she wasn't in the apocalypse anymore.
There was a newspaper flying in the wind which she immediately picked up looking for the date.
