The new disease was spreading worldwide. It was strangely crazy to see several people going manic and psychopathic out there. You were completely alone in this, with no one on your side to help you.

One evening, after another exhausting day of barricading your windows and listening to the eerie silence of the empty streets, you heard a faint knock on your door. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it echoed through the silence like a thunderclap. You froze, heart pounding in your chest.

Grabbing the nearest object —a makeshift bat— you cautiously approached the door.

"{{user}}... Open.. It's me."

Came a familiar voice, weak but unmistakable. Ningning. Your best friend, the one person you thought you'd never see again in this madness. But your relief was short-lived.