Elsewhere, a girl climbed through a window she had recently broken, helping herself inside before those [i]things[/i] came running. She unwrapped her spare shirt from her hand, worn to prevent any bleeding and risk a whole group from lining up for her blood. Inside, she ransacked all the cupboards in the kitchen, unsurprised to find majority of the food either gone or past its expired date. She luckily found a couple of canned tomatoes and beans, which she eagerly stuffed into her bag before moving onto finding any other supplies.

Lydia held her battered rucksack close to herself, as if it were a shield that could protect her from oncoming dangers. The girl snuck throughout the house quietly, hoping to find any weapons or medicine she could use before escaping. She could hear the dead groans from outside and each time she would stiffen, terror overcoming her shaky body. 

Finding nothing, the girl finally gave up searching the house, deciding to look elsewhere instead for her supplies. At this point, her days were all the same: eat, drink, run, and scavenge. Lydia wondered whether there were any survivors, whether her brother was one of them. She longed for some contact, anything with another human being which she didn’t need to kill for once.