A Rude Awakening
Riley and Cass trudged through the remnants of what had once been a lively neighborhood, the crumbling ruins of houses lining the cracked and weed-choked streets. The silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional distant sound of debris shifting or the low murmur of the wind. For Riley, the weight of it was almost suffocating. Every street corner, every cracked sidewalk, brought back memories of a childhood that felt impossibly distant. Riley glanced over at Cass, who was walking beside her in her usual, no-nonsense silence. The tough exterior that Cass always carried had become something Riley had grown accustomed to, even drawn some comfort from. But today, Riley felt different. Her heart ached with the familiar sights that stretched before her—the mailbox at the corner, the worn path where she'd ridden her bike countless times. It felt surreal, seeing everything she knew in ruins.
"This was my neighborhood," Riley said, her voice barely above a whisper. Cass turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "This is where you grew up?" Riley nodded, her pace slowing. "Yeah. I used to live around the corner, with my parents, but… my grandmother's house is just up ahead." Cass hesitated, her eyes scanning the ruins. "Riley… don't get your hopes up."
"I'm not," Riley replied, though her voice trembled slightly. "It's just… I need to see it. To know." Cass sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Alright. Lead the way." Riley's heart pounded in her chest as they walked down a road that had once been so familiar. The homes here had once been warm, vibrant, and full of life. Now they were nothing but skeletons, their frames hollowed out by fire, time, and whatever else the demons had left in their wake. As they rounded a corner, Riley felt her breath catch in her throat. There it was. Her grandmother's house, or what was left of it.
The roof had collapsed in places, and the windows were shattered. The once-white picket fence now lay splintered and rotting, tangled in overgrown weeds. The sight of it hit her like a punch to the gut. She'd always imagined her grandmother's house as a safe place, a refuge. Seeing it now, like everything else, broken and abandoned, was more than she could bear. "Let's go inside," Riley said, her voice barely steady. Cass looked uncertain, but nodded, following closely behind. They stepped carefully through the broken doorway, the floor creaking under their weight. The air was thick with dust, and the smell of mildew clung to everything. The living room, once filled with the warmth of her grandmother's presence, was a shattered reflection of what it had been. Furniture was overturned, and family photos lay scattered and broken on the floor.
Riley's breath hitched as she stepped further into the room. Her eyes scanned the destruction, searching for something, anything, that might give her hope. But deep down, she already knew the truth. They moved deeper into the house, and when they reached her grandmother's bedroom, the finality of it hit her like a tidal wave. The bed was unmade, dust-covered, and torn. The small things that had once made the room feel so comforting—the floral curtains, the knitted blankets—were either destroyed or strewn across the floor. And then she saw it. In the corner of the room, by the window, was a worn quilt, the one her grandmother had always used. But underneath it… Riley's heart stopped.
A skeletal hand peeked out from beneath the blanket, bones bleached and brittle. Riley collapsed to her knees, her mind spinning. "No… no, no…" The sobs came before she could stop them, racking her body with a grief so deep she felt like she was drowning. Her grandmother was gone. The one person she had held out hope for… gone. She curled into herself, burying her face in her hands, her sobs filling the empty, broken house. For a moment, she felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in, and the weight of everything was finally crushing her. Cass stood awkwardly nearby, her eyes darting around as if she were looking for something to do, something to say. But she wasn't good with this—comforting people. She'd always been the one to deal with things alone, and seeing Riley break down like this made her feel… helpless.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her mouth opening and closing a few times, but no words came out. Instead, she let Riley cry, knowing she needed this moment, even if she didn't have the right words to offer. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Riley's sobs began to quiet. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, and she wiped at her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. She didn't look up, just stayed on her knees, staring at the floor as if all the strength had drained out of her. Cass finally spoke, her voice hesitant. "I'm… I'm sorry, Riley. I know this doesn't mean much, but…" She trailed off, not sure how to finish.
Riley shook her head, her voice thick with grief. "It's not your fault."
They were silent for a long time, the weight of the moment hanging between them.
After a while, Cass cleared her throat, trying to break the silence in the only way she knew how. "How old are you, anyway?" Riley blinked, surprised by the question. "Eighteen," she muttered, her voice hoarse. "You?" Cass looked down at her boots, her shoulders tense. "Twenty-one. Feels like a lifetime ago I turned twenty." Riley wiped her nose with the sleeve of her jacket, looking up at Cass for the first time since her breakdown. "I wouldn't have guessed. You seem… older." Cass let out a dry chuckle. "Surviving in a world like this ages you quickly."
"Yeah," Riley whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. "Guess it does." Cass looked away, the awkwardness creeping back in. "You, uh… Do you want to take a minute? Or should we head out?" Riley took a deep breath, trying to gather herself. The sadness was still there, lingering like a shadow, but she knew they couldn't stay. "We should go," she said softly. "There's nothing left here." Cass nodded, giving Riley a hand to help her to her feet. Riley glanced one last time at her grandmother's room, the memories still fresh but now forever tainted by the harsh reality of the world they lived in. She swallowed hard, pushing the pain down, and followed Cass back outside.
As they left the ruins of Riley's childhood behind, the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting long shadows across the broken street. Neither of them spoke as they walked, but the silence wasn't as empty as it had been before. They had both lost pieces of themselves in this world, but maybe, just maybe, they were beginning to understand that they didn't have to face it alone. The sun dipped lower, casting the neighborhood in an eerie twilight as Riley and Cass walked side by side. The air felt heavy, thick with the weight of the emotions that had just passed between them. Neither spoke as they navigated the cracked pavement, dodging crumbled debris and remnants of a life that felt too far gone to be real.
Riley's chest still ached from the grief that had torn through her back in her grandmother's house. It felt like a piece of her had been left behind in those ruins, but she knew there was no time to dwell on it. In this world, grief had to be carried in silence. There was no room for it to slow you down. Cass glanced over at her from time to time, her expression unreadable, but Riley could feel the concern radiating from her in subtle ways. It was strange—Cass wasn't the type to get close to people, to comfort, or to show much emotion at all. And yet, in her quiet way, she had stood by Riley through the hardest moment she'd faced since the demons had destroyed everything.
As they turned the corner, heading toward the main road that would lead them out of the neighborhood, Cass finally broke the silence. "You know… I didn't have much family," she said, her voice low. "It was just me, really. My mom and dad were gone by the time I was your age. I guess that's why I ended up in that cabin, alone." Riley glanced over at her, surprised by the admission. Cass rarely talked about her past, and when she did, it was always in clipped, detached tones, like she was telling a story about someone else's life. "What happened?" Riley asked quietly, her voice still raw from her earlier sobbing.
Cass shrugged, her eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Dad died in an accident when I was little. Mom got sick a few years later. It was just… me after that. I didn't have anyone. No siblings, no other family that stuck around." She paused, her brow furrowing. "Guess I got used to being alone." Riley's heart ached, but this time it wasn't just for herself. "That must've been hard," she said softly. Cass huffed a bitter laugh. "It was what it was. I had to learn how to take care of myself real quick. The cabin… it was an escape. I built it up over the years, off the grid, away from everything." She kicked at a stray piece of rubble, her eyes darkening. "When the world fell apart, it didn't feel that different to me. I was already on my own."
Riley swallowed, feeling a pang of sympathy for Cass. She couldn't imagine what it would've been like to be alone for so long, to have no one to lean on when things got tough. Even though she'd lost her family in this nightmare, at least she'd had them before.
"Do you miss it?" Riley asked after a moment. "Your cabin, I mean."
Cass nodded, her expression distant. "Yeah. It was peaceful there. Quiet. I didn't have to deal with people, or… this." She gestured vaguely to the ruined world around them. "But I guess it doesn't matter now. Everything's gone." Riley bit her lip, thinking about the stark contrast between their lives before all this. "I wasn't really on my own until the demons came. My parents… they were strict, always telling me what to do. And my grandma, she was the one who made me feel safe. But now…" She trailed off, unsure of how to put the rest into words. Cass didn't say anything for a long moment. Then, in her usual blunt way, she said, "You're not alone now. We've got each other, at least." Riley blinked, a little taken aback by the admission. Cass was right—they had somehow formed this odd partnership, despite their differences. Riley had expected to hate her at first, or at least feel indifferent, but somewhere along the way, they had started to rely on each other.
"Yeah," Riley murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. "We do."
They continued walking, the silence between them more comfortable now. The road stretched out before them, winding through the ruins of the world that had once been. Riley didn't know where they would go next or what they would find, but she knew one thing for sure: as long as they stuck together, they had a chance. As the night settled in around them, the last light of the sunset fading into darkness, Riley cast one last look back at her childhood neighborhood, now no more than a ghost of what it had been. She took a deep breath and turned away, focusing on the road ahead.
"Come on," Cass said, her voice cutting through the stillness. "We need to keep moving. We'll find somewhere to rest soon." And with that, they pressed forward into the night, two survivors navigating the ruins of the past, searching for a future that still seemed uncertain—but less lonely than before.