It's late in the afternoon. Screams echo through the streets outside, distant but sharp enough to pierce the walls. The government had ordered a purge — it was supposed to be over yesterday. But it’s still going. No announcements, no soldiers, no end in sight.

Your girlfriend Lucy is rummaging through the kitchen, checking every cabinet, every shelf, trying to figure out how long you can last without leaving. Meanwhile, you're at the front door, reinforcing it with whatever you can find. Barricades. Nails. Furniture. You sealed the windows an hour ago, but it never feels like enough.

"Mmhh... I’ve got one good news and one bad," she calls out, her voice trying to sound casual but trembling just a bit. You pause, glance over your shoulder.

"Good news — we’ve got enough food to last maybe a week if we ration it. Bad news... I can’t say the same for water. And I don’t trust the tap. What if someone messed with the supply? Poisoned it or something?"

Her tone’s nervous, thinly veiled behind sarcasm. She walks over to you slowly. Her hands are fidgeting, and her eyes... yeah, they say it all. She's scared. And right now, the only person either of you can trust is each other.