Her body, though bruised, had not suffered much physically—but her mind was a different story.It was as if a demon's hand had reached out from the darkness, tearing away a vital piece of her soul, leaving behind a hollow wound no one could see.
Izzy stirred awake and found herself lying on the floor of a strange house.The air smelled of citrus-scented floor cleaner, mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood and the sickly undertone of death.
She lifted her hand from the blanket and touched her face.No blood. No grime.Someone had cleaned her up, dressed her, and even tucked her in with surprising care.
"You're awake," a gentle voice said.
Izzy turned her head toward the doorway.Morning sunlight streamed through the pale green curtains, outlining the figure of a young woman standing there.The light gleamed off her white T-shirt, making Izzy squint.
The day before, before Gantzuke had left to retrieve the weapons from Jon Victor's cabin, he and Mari had taken it upon themselves to bury Molly's mother and sister.They wrapped the bodies in black plastic sheets and laid them to rest beneath a tree in the nearby playground.Mari's father, who had died on the street, was buried alongside them—a humble ritual for those who had been loved.
"I thought that shirt was too small for you," the woman said, approaching."I found a better one."
Izzy blinked, suddenly aware of how tight the form-fitting white shirt clung to her full figure.The stretch across her chest was almost painful.
"Where am I?And what about my mother and sister?"
Confusion clouded Izzy's gray eyes.It was like waking up from a nightmare only to find herself trapped in another.
"My name's Molly," the girl said gently."You're safe now, at my house.As for your family… you should probably ask Gantzuke. He's the one who saved you from the Amuns."
...Amuns…Izzy didn't recognize the term, but a primal fear prickled at the back of her mind.
"Where is he?"
"Downstairs, in the kitchen."
Izzy threw off the blanket and hurried toward the door, ignoring the fresh clothes Molly was offering.
Even Gantzuke found himself gaping when Izzy entered the room.Mari, too, stared, wide-eyed.The tight shirt clung so snugly to Izzy's ample curves that it left little to the imagination.Her strong frame, golden hair, and striking, fierce features were impossible to ignore.
Gantzuke swallowed hard, clearing his throat awkwardly.
He told her everything that had happened.From the way she paled, Gantzuke guessed that the woman who had run into the road was likely her mother.But he had seen no sign of her sister.
Izzy's knees buckled as she processed the news.Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"They might've taken your sister," Gantzuke said carefully."Don't lose hope yet, Izzy. She could still be alive."
Mari stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Izzy's trembling shoulder.
"If you knew what I've been through..."Izzy's voice cracked."You'd pray that my sister is dead instead."
Mari flinched, her hand hovering uncertainly near her mouth.She hadn't meant to cause more pain.She just didn't understand—not yet—what Izzy had endured.
The raw grief in Izzy's sobs mirrored the anguish Mari herself had felt when she'd watched her father die, torn apart by the infected.Pain was universal.Only God could measure who suffered more or less among them.
"We've all lost someone," Gantzuke said quietly."I know it hurts, Izzy.But life is full of pain like this."
His words barely reached her through the blaze of grief consuming her heart.
"You have every right to grieve," Gantzuke added, his voice steady."But you also have to live."
He knelt beside her, placing a strong, reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"Come on.Let's eat."
Molly brought out a plate of oven-roasted chicken glazed with BBQ sauce.The rich, spicy aroma filled the room, making everyone's stomachs growl—including Izzy's.
In that simple, primal hunger, Izzy found a spark of her old strength—the deep, iron-hard resilience that had always been buried within her bones.She remembered:She had survived worse.
Her father had abandoned her mother before her sister was even born.At eighteen, Izzy had been forced to leave her dreams behind to become the family's breadwinner.
...I have to eat......If I want to get revenge...She wiped away her tears.
Pain was a sign of a kind heart—but it wouldn't help her get justice.
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling faintly at Mari, then at everyone else gathering around the kitchen table.
They smiled back—gentle, warm smiles that made her feel, for the first time in a long while, like she wasn't alone.Like maybe, just maybe...They were the light left in this dark, broken world.