Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home-Chapter 55: Boundaries Exist For A Reason

I was sitting on my bed with my back against the headboard, eating chips and watching a cooking competition on my phone.

The volume was low enough that I could hear movement upstairs—doors opening, footsteps crossing floors, voices calling out to claim spaces that didn’t belong to them, but I just ignored it.

They could take whatever rooms they wanted up there. I didn’t care about the third floor. I cared about this room, and I was already in it.

But that was before my door opened without a single knock.

I looked up immediately.

The woman with the kid walked in with the boy trailing behind her. After the incident where the kid tried to take my snack, you would think that she would have been smarter, but I guess not.

The woman’s head jerked toward me when she saw me sitting there. Her eyes met mine for a full second then she looked away and stepped further into the room like I wasn’t there at all.

"You need to leave," she announced. Her voice was flat and certain, the tone of someone who expected compliance without question. Like she had a right to my stuff... my room.

The child pulled open my closet door and started touching the clothes inside with his grummy hands, pushing them aside one by one with a metallic scraping sound.

I set my phone down on the bed beside me and glared at the mother.

"Get out."

The woman turned to face me fully now, her expression shifting into something harder. "We’re taking this room. There are other places you can go."

The child moved to the dresser and started opening drawers, pulling them out to see what was inside. Their hands were small and quick, rifling through the contents without hesitation.

I didn’t move from the bed yet. I just watched them both, my hand resting on the mattress beside me.

"This is your last warning. Get out of my room now before I take you out."

"There’s a whole house," the woman replied, her voice rising slightly as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. "You don’t need this one. I am a single mother and I have a child. We need the space."

The child had moved to the nightstand now, opening the single drawer there and reaching inside. They pulled out a charging cable and held it up, examining it like they were deciding whether to keep it.

I reached down beside my pillow where I had placed one of my knives earlier—a fixed blade with a four-inch edge that I’d kept accessible for exactly this kind of situation. I picked it up and held it in my lap where both of them could see it clearly.

The woman stopped talking mid-sentence.

The child froze with the cable still in their hand, their eyes going wide as they stared at the blade.

The room went quiet except for the sounds from upstairs—more doors opening, more footsteps, more voices claiming spaces throughout the house.

The woman’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move toward the door. Instead, she took a step closer to the bed, her hands curling into fists at her sides. Like she was trying to play chicken with me to see who would fold first.

"You can’t just threaten people," she sneered like she was the paragon of law and order. "We’re all trying to survive here. You need to learn how to share. Even your dad told you you had to."

I snorted at that comment, not bothering to correct her. Let her dig her own grave. I knew how to hide a body.

As if she was trying to test fate, she took another step forward.

The child had backed up against the dresser, still holding the cable, their breathing quick and shallow.

More than done with everything, I got out of bed and stood up.

The movement was immediate. I kept the knife in my right hand and stepped around the side of the bed, putting myself between her and my space.

The woman didn’t back down. She moved forward again, closing the distance, her chin lifted and her shoulders squared. "There are other rooms. You’re being selfish. I have a child—"

It was clear what her selling point was... I wondered for a moment what she would do when the kid died... how would she try to get sympathy from the masses...

But she really needed to work her con on someone else. With a twirl of the knife, I shifted my grip until the spine was flushed against my forearm.

I wasn’t dumb enough to have it take up space between us. That was a good way to lose your weapon.

She reached out like she was going to push past me anyway, her hand coming toward my shoulder.

So I moved my forearm.

The blade caught the back of her hand as she extended it—a shallow cut across the knuckles that opened the skin in a clean line. Blood welled up immediately, bright red against her pale skin as I followed through and brought the knife up to her throat.

She jerked her hand back with a sharp intake of breath, her eyes going wide. Her eyes widened as she stared at me, not even daring to look down enough to see the shiny blade that was inches away from her throat.

The child started crying—loud, panicked sobs that filled the room but I ignored everything to stare at the woman.

When I was debating the pros and cons of having to clean blood out of my carpets, a shadow appeared in the doorway.

One of the survivors—a man I’d seen earlier in the kitchen, mid-thirties with a scar running along his jawline—stepped into the frame. He looked at the woman first, saw her cradling her bleeding hand, then at me with the knife still near enough to do damage, and then at the child pressed against the dresser.

"What the hell—" he started before I turned the blade toward him.

He stopped in the doorway, his weight shifting back slightly, his hands coming up in a placating gesture. But his eyes were hard, calculating. He was bigger than me, heavier, and he knew it.

But what he didn’t know was how well I could use a knife.. and the way I was holding it was enough of a warning that this wasn’t amateur night.

"Put that down," he murmured softly, his voice was low and controlled as if he was talking to a while animal. "You don’t want to do this."

"Oh, I really think I do," I purred as I turned away from the woman and took a step toward him.

The woman, now no longer being held at knife point, was backing toward the door, her good hand reaching for the child, blood dripping from her knuckles onto the floor.

The man’s posture changed. His hands dropped slightly, his weight shifting forward again like he was considering whether he could close the distance before I could react.

I spun the knife around just for show before I adjusted my grip again. "Boundaries exist for a reason," I purred, cocking my head to the side as a bright smile appeared on my face. "If you want, I can show you exactly where mine are."

The words came out flat and cold.

The woman grabbed the child’s hand and pulled them toward the door, pushing past the man. The child dropped the charging cable and stumbled after her, their crying getting louder, more desperate.

The man stayed in the doorway, his eyes locked on mine. His jaw worked like he was weighing options, calculating risk.

I didn’t move. I just stood there with the knife between us, my breathing steady, my expression unchanged.

He looked at the blood on the floor. Then back at me.

Then he stepped back into the hallway. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

The woman was already moving down the hall, the child’s sobs echoing behind her. The man followed, his footsteps deliberate and measured, his shoulders tight.

I watched until they turned the corner.

I walked to the door and pushed it closed. The latch clicked into place.

I went back to the bed and sat down in the same position I’d been in before—back against the headboard, knife beside me now instead of on the floor, phone in my hand.

I picked up where I’d left off in the cooking competition. The judges were critiquing someone’s plating technique.

Upstairs, another door opened. Voices called out, claiming another room. Footsteps crossed the floor above me, heavy and confident.

I ate another chip and kept watching.