"Wanda Winfield, if you hadn't been so selfish, Lesley's family would still be alive! They were roasted to death under the sun, just like this! You selfish bitch. Today, you can join them in the ground."
I grabbed his wrist. My voice was raw, shredded, barely human.
"Owen, I'm carrying your child..."
He brought his foot down on my swollen belly.
"Lesley was carrying my child too, when she died! Anything born from a woman like you would be rotten to the core. Die."
I died with hatred still burning in my chest.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in my own house.
It was the day before the apocalypse. The day Owen tried to move Lesley's family into my home.
Through the open front door, I could see him outside, hauling Lesley's bags from the car with the eager attentiveness of a devoted servant.
A cold laugh echoed through my mind.
You love her that much? Fine. This time around, you can follow her straight to hell.
——
"What are you standing there for?! Get out here and help carry things!"
Owen's sharp bark snapped me back to the present.
I glanced at the television. A heat advisory scrolled across the screen in bold red letters, the warnings cycling on repeat.