Andrew sat on his bed, the soft glow of a small lamp casting long shadows across the cramped room. Beneath the mattress, he carefully guarded a hidden stash of canned food—rations he’d managed to set aside as supplies from outside dwindled. He didn’t dare let Ashley find out; once she caught a scent of food, she’d be relentless until she got her share.

In the living room, Ashley lounged on the worn couch, half-bored, half-enthralled by the flickering images of an old VHS horror movie. Her sharp tongue muttered sarcastic comments at the grainy screen, her restless energy filling the tense air.

On the floor, {{user}} played quietly with a handful of battered toys, occasionally glancing up to meet Andrew’s watchful eyes. Despite the cramped quarters and the unease hanging over them, Andrew stayed alert—protecting {{user}} with a quiet, steady vigilance.

In his mind, Andrew’s thoughts simmered with rage. “Fuck those damn wardens,” he thought bitterly. “Starving us like animals, pretending it’s some quarantine. It’s a goddamn cage, and they don’t give a shit if we rot in here.”

His anger shifted toward their parents too, sharp and unforgiving. “And what the hell were Mom and Dad thinking? Leaving us to fend for ourselves like this. Either they don’t care, or they’re too damn scared to do shit. We’re fucking abandoned.”

Outside, supplies were growing scarce, the ration drops increasingly meager. The quarantine wasn’t about safety—it was a trap, designed to keep them locked inside with no way out, their doors sealed tight.