The city was burning.
Not from bombs.
Not from war.
From people.
Screaming, scratching, killing like animals that finally realized the cage had no locks.
It was Day Two.
Only two days since the first wave of the infection spread through the city, ripping through homes, markets, schools. The virus didn't care about age, color, or salary. It just took. Took the men first then mutated the rest. No explanation, no warning. Just blood, rage, and silence.
Lira stood in the corner of a dim storage room, her back pressed against the concrete wall, her knees shaking so hard she could hear them knock against each other. The only light came from the flickering red exit sign above the rusted metal door. The sound of breathing not hers echoed in the silence.
He was out there.
And he wasn't human anymore.
But that wasn't what scared her.
What scared her…. was that Jace had left her here.
Her boyfriend. The man who told her she was "his world," the man who used to kiss her eyes and call her "his peace."
Hours ago, he held her hand. Promised they'd find a way out. Told her to trust him.
Ten minutes ago, he traded her for food.
"She's clean," she heard him say. "No symptoms. Untouched. Still warm."
And just like that, she became currency.
The door creaked open.
A figure stepped in. Not a monster. A man. Clean-shaven. Greasy hair. Eyes like a predator. Two others stood outside the room, blocking the way out. One of them held a bag of dried rice and water bottles.
The man inside licked his lips.
"You're smaller than I expected."
Lira didn't speak. Couldn't. Her throat had turned to sand. Her heart pounded so loudly, she swore it shook the walls.
He walked slowly toward her, unbuttoning his shirt. "You want to live, yeah? Gotta pay the price, sweetheart. World ain't free anymore."
Lira's body trembled. Her stomach turned. Her back hit the wall.
No magic. No miracle. No sudden power-up.
Just fear.
But somewhere between that fear… and rage…
Something broke.
Not a scream. Not a cry.
Something cold.
She stopped shaking.
The man didn't notice the shift. He was too busy pulling off his belt.
Her voice was soft. Almost calm.
"You have a knife?"
He froze. "What?"
Lira looked up, her eyes no longer glassy. "A knife. I want to see it. Before you do anything."
He chuckled. "Why? You gonna cut me?"
"No." She tilted her head. "I want to remember what kind of man it takes to sell food for flesh."
He stared at her for a second too long.
And that's when she moved.
She didn't even know how she got the brick. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was survival. Maybe it was anger so deep it boiled into something else. But she swung. And the first sound was wet. Flesh and bone. Then a grunt. Then silence.
He collapsed, twitching.
She stood over him, blood dripping from the jagged edge of the brick, her breathing wild. He didn't move again.
Lira dropped the brick.
The door creaked.
She turned.
The other two stared at her. She stared back.
Nobody moved. Not even the air.
Then she smiled.
Not out of joy.
Out of power.
"Come in," she said. "Or run. Either way, I'll remember your faces."
They ran.
She found a mirror an hour later shattered, hanging crooked on the bathroom wall of a gas station. The fluorescent lights buzzed above her. Her reflection was smeared with blood, dust, and exhaustion.
But her eyes…
They weren't scared anymore.
She barely recognized herself.
And yet, for the first time in her life Lira felt something like control.
Not safety. Not strength.
But the birth of it.
There was no voice. No glowing screen. No system pop-up. But deep inside, she felt it
a shift.
The more she gave in… the less the world scared her.
Her hands were stained red. Her stomach still empty. Her heart still pounding.
But the girl who waited to be saved?
She was dead.
Lira walked out of the station with a stolen jacket, blood on her shirt, and a match in her pocket.
Behind her, the place she was nearly raped burned to the ground.
She didn't cry. She didn't scream.
She just walked.
Because tomorrow, she would steal a gun.
The next day, she'd steal food.
And the day after that
She'd start building something bigger.