Ever since that fateful day, I stopped hanging out with Jasmine, just as I had with my old friends. I always push people away—always because I'm defending my mother.
I don't even know how to feel about it anymore.
I had started to like Jasmine too, but maybe I'm cursed to be alone, just like Caitlyn.
Perhaps the gods are sending me a message: focus on fulfilling my mother's wishes and forget trivial things like dating. Relationships don't bring happiness anyway. At least, not for me.
Yet, for the past few days, Jasmine's words have been gnawing at me.
Unlike my old friends, who only pointed out what they saw as flaws in my relationship with my mother—criticisms I've never considered valid—Jasmine had gone deeper.
She asked me something I couldn't answer: Am I truly happy?
The question haunts me. I've tried to push it aside, digging through my past to find moments of joy, but I can't seem to recall any.
If I ever had happy memories, they're buried beneath the weight of that night—when my parents fought, shattering everything.
Since then, it feels like happiness has been something other people experience, not me. The truth is, I'm lonely.
Today is September 11, the day of the exams for all subjects. I'm wearing my P.E. uniform, even though that exam doesn't start until the afternoon, because my mother forgot to wash my regular uniform.
She was furious about my lying to her and grounded me for six months.
I understand her disappointment. I shouldn't have lied or kept secrets. I remember how devastated she was when I came out as bisexual. She punished me by making me clean the entire house for hiding it from her.
Eventually, she got over it, but I deserved that punishment for hiding it. I should have learned my lesson about hiding things from her by now.
I glance at Jasmine, sitting in the middle row instead of beside me. I can only assume she asked the teachers to transfer her seat because of a "complicated issue"—one I know all too well. It's me.
Now I feel truly alone, with no one to talk to. I look out the window, where a group of students is practicing volleyball.
I finished my history exam early, so I have time to watch them. As much as I hate sports, I had fun playing when Jasmine dragged me into it.
But now, it doesn't feel the same without her. I'm so stupid for hurting her.
———
At lunchtime, I retreat to the school library to eat. I hate crowds, and the librarian lets me eat here as long as I'm quiet.
I nibble on my food, flipping through notes for my upcoming exams to pass the time.
Jasmine isn't here anymore, though I don't know why I'm even thinking about that—she only came to the library on weekends, something that won't happen again after what happened four days ago.
"Gods, what should I do?" I whisper, seeking guidance from above.
I feel utterly lost, desperate for a way to fix this. I've prayed about mending broken friendships before, but the response has always been silence.
"Why am I so quick to anger? Instead of hearing people out, I lash out—especially when they talk about my mother. I should try to understand why they think my relationship with her isn't okay. I don't see any problems with it... but maybe they could help me see what I can't."
Or maybe I'm just too terrified to hear what they think of my mother. The thought of anyone criticizing her parental methods fills me with dread.
She's all I have. I've watched her work tirelessly, sacrificing everything to ensure I have what I need.
Whatever flaws others might see in her parenting, they pale in comparison to the love and effort she's poured into raising me.
I can't afford to question her; instead, I must meet her expectations.
My own needs, whatever they might be, are secondary. My sole focus should be making her happy, no matter how long it takes.
"Could you please quiet down your grunting and groaning, miss?" the white-haired librarian interrupted, his twirly mustache twitching as he spoke with an air of polite concern.
I blinked at him in confusion. "Grunting? I wasn't making any noises."
But then I heard it—a low, guttural sound reverberating through the library.
The librarian furrowed his brows and began scanning the room, trying to locate the source.
Meanwhile, my gaze drifted to the window. My stomach dropped.
Outside, the volleyball players moved unnaturally, their motions sluggish and uneven, like they were dragging themselves across the field. Black veins marbled their skin, standing out in stark contrast against their pale bodies.
Their eyes were devoid of humanity—cold, lifeless, and eerily hollow. Blood dripped from their forms, some of them missing limbs entirely, their wounds grotesque and raw.
"What... zombies?" I whispered, frozen in disbelief.
It had to be a prank. Some sick, elaborate prank. But no matter how hard I blinked, rubbed my eyes, or even slammed my head lightly against the wall, the scene didn't change.
The students were advancing, shambling closer to the main school building, leaving bloody trails in their wake.
A sharp, piercing pain suddenly exploded in my skull, worse than the headaches I'd experienced before.
It felt like a siren blaring directly into my brain, the noise amplified tenfold. My vision blurred and shifted, cloaked in a golden hue that lingered for a moment before fading.
Panic surged through me as I staggered to my feet, desperate to escape the library. But before I could take a step, the sound of a violent crash made me whip around.
The librarian screamed as he was slammed into a bookshelf, blood pooling beneath him.
"Help me! Please, help me!" he cried, reaching out toward me with a trembling, bloodied hand.
I stood frozen, paralyzed by fear.
Before I could act, one of the zombies lunged at him—a former classmate, her dark purple hair unmistakable. She was shy and quiet, someone I'd barely noticed before today.
Now, she was a monstrous shell of herself, sinking her teeth savagely into the librarian's flesh. His screams faded into horrifying silence as blood spattered across the library floor.
My body trembled violently, and my breath came in short, shallow gasps.
I couldn't stay here.
I had to run, had to escape before I met the same fate.
My mother—she could be in danger too. I couldn't let anything happen to her.
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to collapse in terror. I needed to get home. To her. To make sure she was safe.
———
As I bolted toward the hallway in a desperate bid for escape, the sound of shuffling feet and guttural growls rose behind me—the zombie was chasing me. I sprinted through the corridors, my breath ragged, my heart pounding.
The school had become a scene straight out of a nightmare.
Corpses of students and teachers littered the floor, doors hastily barricaded with chairs and desks, their defenses seemingly futile.
The horror around me was suffocating. Blood smeared the walls, and the metallic stench of death filled the air.
My foot caught on something, and I stumbled, nearly tripping over a body.
To my horror, the corpse twitched and began to rise, its head turning toward me with lifeless, hollow eyes.
More of them were stirring now, groaning and dragging their broken forms toward me. A chorus of deathly moans filled the halls as the horde began to give chase.
I didn't know how this all had happened, but I couldn't stop to think about it. My singular focus was on one thing: I had to find my mother.
Suddenly, a hand shot out and yanked me into a classroom. The door slammed shut behind me, and the person began barricading it with desks and chairs.
Gasping, I turned to see Jasmine.
A small group of classmates huddled inside the room, their faces pale with fear.
"Why did you pull me in here!?" I snapped, anger overriding my relief. "I was getting out of the school!"
Jasmine frowned, clearly exasperated. "Are you serious right now!? No thanks!? Do you have a death wish or something!? You can't survive a horde of zombies, Mary!"
"There aren't that many," I shot back, my voice shaking. "I can make it home! You can't stop me!"
I moved toward the door, determined to shove the barricade aside, but Jasmine grabbed my arm and yanked me back.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as if trying to keep herself calm. "Look out the window, Mary! Just look!"
I stormed over to the window, my frustration mounting, but the sight outside stopped me cold.
Zombies swarmed the campus, their numbers far greater than I'd anticipated. They roamed in clusters, aimlessly but relentlessly, filling every inch of the grounds.
I'd thought there had only been a few. Where had they all come from?
It made no sense. Everything had been normal this morning, but now the school was overrun, the air thick with the pungent smell of rot and death.
I inhaled sharply and caught a whiff of something else—something acrid and unnatural.
"You're not getting through them," Jasmine said firmly, though her trembling hands betrayed her nerves. "Stay here, Mary. At least until they disperse. Your mother will be fine. I—" She faltered. "I don't even know if mine will be."
Her words hit a nerve. I turned to her, anger blazing in my chest. "Of course, you don't care about her! Why would you? You're always complaining about how your parents don't let you do what you want! Unlike you, I love my mother! I care about her more than anything! So don't get in my way, or I swear I'll use that Sherlock Holmes novel you're holding to knock you out!"
Jasmine stared at me, stunned, her expression a mix of hurt and disbelief. "You're not letting those zombies in here, Mary! I won't let you endanger everyone else just because you're too stubborn to listen!"
"Fine," I muttered through gritted teeth, my anger momentarily giving way to guilt. "I'm sorry for what I said, but you're not stopping me."
She narrowed her eyes, noticing my gaze shift toward the window. "What are you—?"
Before she could finish, I made my move. I bolted toward the window, ignoring the shouts of my classmates, and flung myself through it.
Glass shattered around me as I plummeted, landing hard on the concrete below. Pain shot through my legs as I heard a sickening crack.
My legs were dislocated—maybe broken—but I didn't care.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I forced myself to my feet, my body protesting with every movement.
The zombies had noticed me now, their dead eyes locking onto me as they shuffled forward.
I stole a glance back at the window, catching a glimpse of Jasmine's horrified face.
I didn't let myself dwell on it. I pushed through the pain, my steps uneven but determined, as I made a break for the gate.
Something strange was happening to my body—the pain wasn't as overwhelming as it should've been—but I couldn't stop to figure out why.
All that mattered was getting home. To my mother. Whatever it took.