. Days.
Weeks.
Had it already been months?
Moments blurred together as time ceased to exist. A nightmare had come to reality, forcing a young woman to prepare to spend the rest of her days in a single room. That was when Magdalena thanked her past self for choosing to become a chef-- a room just to herself, surrounded by food. Two large bags remained at her side at all times, ready to be grasped in case of an emergency.
And so it was.
As biters burst through the door and reached towards her with hungry, bloody hands. Magdalena tried to fight them off at first, but as she realized that her efforts were futile and that nobody was answering her screams for help, she scrambled to close her bags and shove any items lying around. As soon as she was happy with the contents, she headed for the only exit.
The window.
Magdalena took little more than a moment of hesitation before she swung one of the bags at the glass, shattering it. Tucking the meat cleaver she’d been holding into her belt, Magdalena tried to grasp at anything in her reach, managing to somewhat lower herself before jumping was the only option, and she landed on one of the members of a group.
Scrambling to her feet, Magdalena stood tall with her head held high and her bags protectively behind her. She did not arm herself just yet, but her hand remained close to the cleaver in case the group intended to take her things-- one bag’s half-open zipper making it apparent that she carried canned food.
“Qui êtes-vous? D'où êtes-vous? Parlez-vous français? English? Español?”
