The year 2024
In the morning hours
My skin slither against the wooden floor, leaving pieces of splinter stuck inside, "Issabella, get up- now," Fresh blood enters my nostrils; mom's grim view terrify me, "Why are you covered in blood mom? Where is sad?" Her weight does not leave the door, red substance leaks from her neck- what bit her? Lose skin peels the more she moves.
"Something attacked your father . . . I left him in our room. I-Issabella, I-I do not know what is going on outside, they broke through the front door?" Who are they? Her red polish digs into the wood. I force upward, "Mom, what are you talking about? Who are they? Why are you bleeding?" "I-Issabella, there are things out there, people attacking each other . . . oh, no, s**t, they are close- hide p-please,"
I can hear
