The living room was thick with fear and confusion as we all sat quietly, trying to process what we had just seen on the news. No one spoke for a moment, the chaos on the screen slowly sinking in. I couldn't help but glance at the clock, wondering how quickly everything was falling apart.

Suddenly, the screen cut to an emergency alert: *BREAKING NEWS* flashed in bold red across the bottom. The footage switched to a frantic news anchor reporting from a distant location.

"We are receiving reports that the outbreak originated in the South Pacific region. Eyewitness accounts describe erratic and violent behaviour, followed by severe aggression and biting," the anchor explained, her voice barely masking the panic. "Officials are advising people to avoid large gatherings and to seek shelter immediately. Once bitten, individuals may exhibit similar aggressive behaviour within hours. There is currently no known cure or treatment."

"South Pacific?" Jake said, frowning at the TV. "How did it spread so fast?"

My mom, standing by the window, shook her head. "This... this has to be blown out of proportion. It can't be happening here the same way. We're not in any immediate danger." Her voice sounded uncertain, but I could tell she was trying to comfort us.

My dad nodded in agreement, his arms crossed. "We just need to be smart. Stay inside and wait for this to pass. The government will handle it."

But Reya's face turned pale. "I need to call my parents."

She reached for her phone, her hands trembling as she dialled. We all waited in silence, the hum of the TV filling the room as reports of chaos continued. Finally, Reya's mom answered, but the sound on the other end wasn't reassuring—it was chaos. Screaming. Glass shattering.

"Mom?!" Reya shouted into the phone, panic rising in her voice. "Mom! What's happening?"

In the background, we heard frantic voices, then her father's voice, shaky and barely understandable over the commotion. "Reya... we—" He was cut off by a loud crash. Reya screamed into the phone as the line went silent, followed by nothing but a dead dial tone.

The room fell completely quiet. Reya's eyes were wide, her face frozen in shock as she stared at the phone. Then, without thinking, she bolted for the door.

"Reya, no!" I yelled, trying to grab her, but she slipped out of my reach.

She yanked open the door, desperation written across her face. "I have to get to them!" she screamed, but as soon as the door swung open, we all froze.

Standing in the middle of the driveway was a man—dressed in torn clothes, his skin pale and eyes unfocused. He swayed back and forth as if he didn't know where he was, but the second he saw movement at the door, he snapped into focus. His eyes locked onto Reya, then my mom who had run out after her, trying to pull her back inside.

"Reya, get back!" Mom shouted, pushing her toward the door.

The man moved fast, faster than any of us expected. One moment he was standing still, the next he lunged forward, targeting my mom. His mouth opened, a guttural growl escaping as he launched himself at her, teeth bared.

"Mom!" I screamed.

It happened so fast. My mom stumbled back, trying to defend herself, but the man was too strong. His teeth sank into her arm, and she screamed in pain, falling to the ground. Blood poured from the wound as the man bit down harder, not letting go.

Reya froze in horror, standing just a few feet away, while the rest of us jumped into action. Quin and Jake were the first to react. Quin grabbed a heavy lamp from the side table and ran outside, slamming it into the back of the attacker's head. Jake followed, pulling my mom away as the man finally let go.

"Get back inside!" Jake shouted, dragging my mom's bleeding body toward the door while Quin and Riley tried to fend off the man, who had now turned his attention toward them, snarling like an animal.

I stood there, frozen in shock, my body unable to move as the scene unfolded in front of me. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, like everything had come crashing down in a matter of seconds.

Somehow, Riley managed to shove the man back, slamming the door and locking it before he could come after us again. We were safe—at least for now—but the damage had already been done.

We huddled around my mom, who sat slumped on the floor, cradling her arm. Blood dripped from the deep bite wound, and her face was twisted in pain.

"No, no, no," I whispered, kneeling beside her. My hands hovered over the bite, unsure of what to do. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. "Mom, it's going to be okay, right? You're going to be fine."

She didn't answer me. Her breathing was heavy, laboured. She leaned her head back against the wall, trying to keep her composure, but we all knew what the news had said. Biting. Infection. Reanimation.

"I'll be fine," she said, but even her voice sounded hollow, like she didn't believe her own words.

Reya was sobbing now, her hand covering her mouth. "It's my fault... I... I shouldn't have opened the door..."

"No," Jake said firmly, shaking his head. "This isn't on you. None of us knew... we didn't know."

But the reality was sinking in for all of us. My mom had been bitten. And we had no idea how much time we had left before things got worse.

My dad stood behind us, his face pale but his expression hard. "We need to bandage her up," he said, his voice shaky. "She'll be okay. Just until we figure this out."

But we all knew what he wasn't saying: *What if we don't figure this out in time?*

We stood frozen, our hearts racing and minds clouded with fear as we looked at my mom. She sat slumped against the wall, her breath shallow, her face slick with sweat. My dad was a mess—his hands shook uncontrollably as he stared at her, panicked beyond words. He paced back and forth, muttering to himself, eyes darting between my mom and the door.

"We have to do something... we have to take her to a hospital," my dad finally blurted out, his voice breaking. "She's bleeding... they'll have doctors. They'll know how to fix this."

Jake stepped in, his voice calm but firm. "Dad, we can't. It's too dangerous. There's that guy outside, and you heard the news. It's happening everywhere."

My dad looked desperate. His wide eyes settled on me, pleading, but I had nothing to say. Every part of me wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that she'd be fine if we just found help. But deep down, I knew the truth.

"Dad..." I started, trying to steady my voice. "We can't do anything crazy. We have to stay here. We... we have to wait."

A guttural moan escaped from my mom, pulling all our attention back to her. Her arm was wrapped in a makeshift bandage, but blood continued to seep through. She was growing weaker by the second, her skin pale and sickly, and her eyes—those beautiful, warm eyes—were sunken, bruised with exhaustion.

"We'll wait," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. "Lock me in the bedroom... it's the safest option."

Her words cut through the panic, snapping us all to attention. She was right. As much as it tore at me, she was right.

Jake and my dad helped her up, supporting her as they led her to the master bedroom. I could see the pain etched in her face, each step making her wince, her arm cradled to her chest. The blood still flowed, but slower now, like her body was giving up. The sight of it made my stomach churn, and I had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat.

Once she was on the bed, we did what we could. I handed Jake the last of the bandages we had, and he wrapped her arm tightly, hoping to slow the bleeding further. She was trembling now, her skin damp with sweat, her lips pale.

"It's okay," she murmured, barely conscious. "Just... do what you have to do."

Jake nodded, grim-faced, and set a glass of water and a few crackers beside her. He left the room quickly, his face flushed with guilt, not looking back. We all knew what this meant.

My dad gave her a lingering look, his lip quivering before he pulled the door shut behind him. He wedged a chair under the handle, creating a barrier to keep the door closed. I stood there, staring at the door, my chest tight, heart aching with the reality that we had just locked my mother away like an animal.

I collapsed on the couch, curling into my dad's arms as sobs racked my body. His grip was firm, holding me tight, but it did nothing to stop the fear from creeping in.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Reya burying her face into Quin's shoulder, her body shaking with quiet sobs. Quin sat there, his arm wrapped around her protectively, though I could tell he was barely holding himself together. The weight of everything was crushing us all.

In the kitchen, Jake, Tommie, and Riley huddled together, voices low but urgent. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating. Every so often, I caught a few words—"food," "water," "supplies"—but it all seemed distant, as if I were floating away from reality.

"We don't have enough to last more than a few days," Riley said, leaning against the counter, his voice strained. "Maybe a week if we stretch it."

"We need to fill up the bathtub," Tommie suggested, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Anything that can hold water. If the power or water shuts off... we'll be screwed."

Jake nodded in agreement, already moving to grab buckets, cups, pots, anything that could hold water. They started filling the bathtub in the small bathroom down the hall, the sound of rushing water the only thing breaking the eerie silence of the house.

I sat there, numb, watching them rush around, doing what they could to prepare. But I couldn't shake the gnawing thought in the back of my mind: this was only the beginning. And it was already worse than we could have imagined.

Hours passed in a blur. We all took turns sitting near the door, listening for any sign of movement from my mom. Her breathing had become shallow, almost a rasping wheeze. Each time I heard her, I wanted to burst through the door and sit by her side, but I couldn't. We couldn't risk it.

Suddenly, a loud thud came from the room. We all jumped, our hearts pounding in unison. The next sound was even worse—a low, guttural groan, followed by the sickening scrape of nails against wood.

"She's... she's changing," I whispered, my throat tight, barely able to speak.

Jake stepped forward, his face pale, but he didn't open the door. Instead, he pushed the chair harder against it, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of it.

"What the hell do we do?" Quin whispered, his voice trembling. "We can't leave her in there like that..."

"We can't go in there either," Riley added, his jaw clenched. "If we open that door, she could—"

He didn't finish his sentence, but we all knew what he meant. The news had made it clear: once someone changed, they were no longer themselves.

The reality of the situation hit us like a freight train. My mom wasn't my mom anymore. Whatever was left of her was being taken over by this disease, this infection. And soon, she wouldn't even be human.

My dad sat at the edge of the couch, staring at the closed door, his face pale and void of emotion. He hadn't said a word since we'd left the room, but his silence was louder than anything.

As I sat there, still trembling, the sound of scraping and moaning continued from behind the door. The disease had already claimed my mother, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it came for the rest of us.

Tommie leaned against the counter, rubbing his temples, trying to think of something—anything—that could help us. But there was nothing. We were trapped, and there was no way out.

Hours felt like days as we all sat in stunned silence. The only sound that broke the heavy quiet was the occasional scratch or thud from behind the bedroom door where my mom—*whatever was left of her*—was locked away. Her groans, once weak and pained, had grown deeper, more feral, more *wrong*. It was unbearable.

I couldn't take my eyes off the door. My heart clenched every time I heard movement from inside. Dad sat across the room, slumped in his chair, staring at the floor like he was in some kind of daze. He hadn't spoken since we left her in there. He hadn't cried, either. He just... sat.

Jake was pacing near the kitchen, muttering to himself as he tried to come up with a plan, any plan. His hands kept clenching and unclenching at his sides, his frustration palpable. Every so often, he'd throw a glance toward the door, his face twisted in guilt and helplessness.

Reya sat next to Quin, her eyes red from crying. She hadn't said much either since her parents' call, only holding tightly to Quin's hand as if she were afraid to let go. The room felt like it was collapsing in on itself, suffocating us under the weight of what was happening.

Then, Dad finally broke the silence.

"We should have taken her to the hospital," he said, his voice low and shaky. "I should have... I should have done *something*." His head snapped up, eyes bloodshot and wild. "She's in there *dying*—or worse—and we just left her. I just left her."

His words pierced through the air like a knife, sending a wave of guilt crashing down on all of us. I could feel the weight of it settling into my chest, heavy and suffocating.

"Dad..." I whispered, trying to steady my voice, but I wasn't sure what to say. There was nothing I could say. He wasn't wrong. We'd locked her away to die—or to become something far worse than dead.

"I can't just *sit here*," he snapped suddenly, standing up so fast his chair clattered to the floor. "We need to take her to the hospital! *Now!*" He started moving toward the door, his face twisted with desperation, but Jake intercepted him, grabbing him by the arm.

"Dad, stop," Jake said, his voice tight with frustration. "You know we can't. There's no way we'll make it out there. And even if we did, what if she's already..."

Jake's voice faltered, his eyes flicking toward the door before looking away again, the truth too painful to finish. The silence hung between them like a death sentence.

"She's still my wife!" Dad shouted, wrenching his arm free from Jake's grip. His voice cracked, raw with grief. "I can't just sit here while she's... while she's..." His voice broke, and for the first time, I saw his tears. He was shaking, his face contorted with agony, and it was like watching him break apart in front of me.

The worst part was that I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help him. None of us could.

"We'll all die if we try to leave," Jake said, his voice softening, but his grip on Dad's shoulder stayed firm. "And she wouldn't want that. Mom wouldn't want that."

Dad collapsed back into his chair, burying his face in his hands, his body trembling with silent sobs. I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up, my legs shaky, and moved to the window, staring out into the night. The streets were empty, but every shadow felt like a threat, every creak of the house like the sound of death approaching. It was suffocating. I needed air, but there was no escape from this.

"Maybe we should've done something," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Maybe we could have saved her." The words felt like poison on my tongue, bitter and corrosive, but they needed to be said. They had to be *acknowledged*.

"No, Ashta," Jake said, stepping toward me. His eyes were heavy with guilt, but he wasn't wavering. "There was nothing we could do. Nothing anyone can do. You saw the news. People are turning... attacking each other. It's... it's not something we can fix."

"I don't care what the news says!" I snapped, turning on him, my emotions finally boiling over. "She's our *mom*! She's *dying* in there, and we're just sitting here, doing nothing!"

Jake's face twisted, but he didn't back down. "We didn't have a choice, Ashta. She's already..." He trailed off, his face tightening with the truth he didn't want to speak out loud.

I hated him in that moment. I hated that he was right. I hated that we were powerless, that all we could do was *wait*.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang from the bedroom. Everyone froze. The door rattled on its hinges, and for a moment, it sounded like something—or *someone*—was trying to break through.

Dad leapt to his feet, his face pale as he stared at the door in horror. "No... no..." he whispered, backing away, his voice barely a breath. "Not her... please, not her..."

Another bang, followed by a guttural growl, low and primal, echoed from behind the door. My heart raced, terror gripping me like a vice.

"She's... she's turned," Riley whispered from the kitchen, his face pale, his eyes wide with dread. "She's not your mom anymore."

Those words sent a shockwave through the room, like a bomb going off, and suddenly, everything felt too real. Too immediate. The room seemed to shrink around us, the walls closing in, as the reality of what we were facing settled into our bones.

"We need to get out of here," Jake said, his voice hard and resolute. "We can't stay here with... with her like that. It's not safe."

"No!" Dad shouted, his voice breaking. "We can't just *leave* her! She's my wife! We promised to stay together, no matter what!" His voice cracked with desperation, but no one moved.

Ashta turned away, her mind reeling. The room felt suffocating. Her father's love, once a source of strength, now seemed to be his undoing, blinding him to the horror that had already consumed his wife.

Tommie stood in the doorway, watching quietly, his face grim. "We're running out of time," he said softly. "This place isn't safe anymore. We have to go."

My father collapsed to the floor, his body shaking with sobs as he leaned his head against the chair. The decision had been made, but the weight of it crushed us all.

As much as we wanted to fight, to cling to hope, we knew that the world was different now. And so were we.