When I finally got home, the moon was obscured by heavy clouds, casting a suffocating darkness over the city. The eerie silence of the streets only amplified the oppressive weight in my chest as the familiar shape of my "home" came into view. Hidden between two collapsed, uninhabited houses, the small building was just another shadow among many in this city of ruin. Its inconspicuousness shielded it from prying eyes and most of the weather, but nothing could shield us from the cold.

  The journey back had been quiet but grueling. Every step had felt like a trial, my nerves on edge as my eyes darted to every flickering shadow. The weight of the gun beneath my thin jacket pressed against me, a constant reminder of the stakes. People would kill for this kind of protection. The question gnawed at the edges of my mind.

  I wrung my hands as I neared the house, forcing myself to study its condition. It was pitiful. We'd patched the broken windows with mismatched boards and rusted nails, barely keeping out the biting wind. One of the larger, abandoned houses nearby shielded us from some of the rain, but the cold seeped in regardless. It wasn't much, but it didn't attract attention, and attention meant trouble. That was why we had rules: no lights, no loud sounds, and no smells. Anything that might draw people to us was forbidden.

  "Lexy!"

  The sharp cry pierced the silence, freezing me in place. My heart stuttered, then raced as I saw Grace stumbling out of the house. Her small, frail form was barely upright, her torn shirt hanging from her shoulders like a discarded rag. Her shoes, so worn that the soles flapped with each step, made a dull, dragging sound against the pavement.

  "Grace? What's wrong?" I called, already rushing toward her. Pain shot up my leg, and black spots danced at the edges of my vision. My breath caught as I crouched in front of her.

  Her heavy breaths were uneven, and her face was pale and streaked with grime. Loose curls escaped the oversized beanie on her head, revealing a large tear on one side. Her wide amber eyes, identical to Mother's, were filled with panic. She was thirteen but looked smaller and more fragile than any child should. She was my purpose, my anchor in this broken world. And something was very wrong.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  "It's Mother! She won't stop coughing," Grace choked out, her voice shaking with fear.

  The world narrowed to a single point. Without another word, I bolted for the house, my heart pounding. "Get her medicine," I shouted over my shoulder.

  The crooked doorway forced me to duck as I entered. Splintered wood and rusted nails lined the frame, threatening to catch at any moment. Inside, Mother's harsh, choking coughs shattered the silence. The sound cut through me like a blade.

  Mother's small body curled on the floor, her frame trembling with every convulsion. Her faded brown curls framed her face, strikingly similar to Grace's but dulled with age and hardship. Her amber eyes were clouded, and tears clung to her lashes. She looked up at me, her voice barely a whisper.

  "Alexandra? Is that you?"

  I dropped to my knees beside her, taking her trembling hand in mine. "I'm here, Mom. I'm here."

  Her breath hitched, and she managed a weak smile.

  "Grace! Where's the medicine?" My voice cracked as I tried to keep the rising panic at bay. Mother's coughing fit seized her again, her frail body shaking as she curled tighter against the floor.

  Grace appeared at my side, holding out the small orange bottle. Only one pill remained. My hands trembled as I reached for it, struggling to twist the cap. The simple motion felt impossible, my grip slipping as fear clawed at my mind.

  "Let me help," Grace whispered, her own hands shaking but steadier than mine. She popped the cap and tilted the pill into my hand. Passing me the small container of water we'd managed to collect during a rare rain, she knelt beside me, her wide eyes fixed on Mother.

  I tilted Mother's head up and gently pressed the capsule to her lips, following it with the smallest sip of water. "Please, Mom. Swallow it. It'll help."

  She obeyed, but the effort seemed to drain her. Another coughing fit wracked her body, leaving her gasping for breath. I cradled her head in my lap, stroking her hair as tears blurred my vision. I couldn't let Grace see me break. Not now.

  "How long till it starts working?" Grace's voice was barely audible, her small hand gripping my shoulder so tightly it hurt.

  "Ten minutes," I said, my voice steady despite the storm in my chest. "You hear that, Mom? Just a little longer, and you'll feel better."

  I sat with her, holding her close, whispering reassurances I wasn't sure I believed. Her breaths were shallow and uneven, but she managed a faint smile, her lips moving in a silent response. I forced a smile in return, swallowing the lump in my throat. The helplessness was suffocating.

  Minutes ticked by, each breath a battle for Mother. Grace knelt beside me, her small body pressed against mine as if trying to share her strength. Finally, Mother's coughing subsided, and her body relaxed. Her eyes fluttered shut.