When I was younger, I was the exact opposite of who I've become. A good kid. Innocent. Lonely. The kind of boy who couldn't walk past someone sad or crying without trying to help. But over time, I started to see the darker side of people.
My parents had been divorced for as long as I could remember. It never really bothered me. When they split, I was too young to know what it felt like to have both a mom and dad under the same roof. The real problem was how they treated me.
My mother couldn't stand the sound of a child crying. When stress got the better of her, her actions were questionable—at best. She dumped responsibilities on me as if I were already an adult. And when she couldn't take it anymore, she took it out on me with violence. Beating us into silence, until fear made us hide every trace of weakness, was her solution. Always followed by the same lines: "Real men don't cry." Or, "If you don't stop crying, I'll give you a real reason to cry."
My father, on the other hand, had his own brutal way. He demanded perfection in everything. A bad grade or the smallest flaw was enough to earn me sharp, punishing knocks to the head—hard enough to leave welts.
When my grandmother—the only person who seemed to truly love me—died, I was abandoned emotionally. They gave me no space to mourn, no chance to grieve. That's when I learned to hate everyone, and to understand that suffering isn't about showing weakness in hopes of crumbs of sympathy. That was the moment I realized I didn't need anyone's help.
Looking back, maybe my father did teach me one thing: to chase perfection in everything I did. To never settle. To always push myself to be better. But it came with a cost. I shut myself off completely. I can't show what I feel—not even when I want to.
What's stranger, though, is how I feel when I destroy something—anything. It doesn't matter if it's mine, or if it belongs to someone else. There's an unexplainable satisfaction in breaking, in tearing down, in ending.
Now… I just do what I have to do. Not out of hatred. Not for revenge. Simply because… it's all that's left.
***
Samira and her friend, when they turned around, froze in shock at the sight of Bruno—drenched in blood, a deep gash carved across his face, dripping steadily with every movement. The sight was horrific, and what made it even more unsettling was that João Paulo, though just as filthy, only seemed to have blood smeared across his hands compared to the devastation covering Bruno's body.
Samira swallowed hard, still unable to process what she was seeing. Her voice trembled with worry as she spoke:
— Oh my God! Bruno, what happened to you?
Bruno didn't even glance at her. Blood and sweat kept trickling down, ignored as if they didn't exist. His eyes scanned Samira from head to toe, sharp and deliberate, studying every detail. When he realized she was unharmed, a faint wave of relief crossed his face—but he said nothing.
With the same coldness, Bruno turned his gaze to the other girl. He didn't touch her, only examined her with that same piercing stare. The tension was suffocating. Both Bruno and João Paulo sank into an uneasy silence, as if words had lost all meaning after the nightmare they had just survived. The girls picked up on it immediately. They didn't press, they didn't ask—they just fell quiet too.
When they reached the market, they found Camille crouched between cars in the empty lot, her face pale and streaked with tears, proof she had been crying endlessly while waiting for them. But no one bothered to ask if she was okay. The only voice that broke the silence was Bruno's—harsh, raw, and cutting through the air like a blade:
— Where's Larissa? Wasn't she with you? … Ah, screw it, I don't give a damn about you. My priorities are somewhere else right now.
His words sliced like knives, and his eyes locked on the supermarket, already calculating, already planning how to seize control of the place. It was clear: his mind wasn't on comfort or kindness. Not when survival was all that mattered.
Bruno began scanning the area, carefully studying every corner, trying to gauge whether infected might be lurking near the supermarket entrance, ready to pounce. After everything they had gone through, the streets were eerily quiet—quiet enough to make his suspicion grow stronger.
Camille, still trying to discreetly wipe some of the blood from her sleeve, seized the moment to ask:— Bruno, why did you choose the market as a meeting point?
Before he could reply, Samira cut in quickly:— It's pretty simple! With all this chaos—people running, just trying to survive—tell me, who's gonna stop and think about stocking up on food?
Bruno, even while looking distant, forced himself to keep his sister calm. He added to Samira's answer, his voice steady and controlled:— It's not just that. The supermarket doors are reinforced metal, built to stop break-ins. And the garage is easy to lock down. To me, it's the perfect place to keep us safe, at least for now. The plan is simple: we get a stove, a gas tank, and some mattresses. After that, we'll be fine.
He paused, then looked straight at Samira as he continued:— Now, you stay here with the others, behind the car. There could be infected inside, and since I'm the fastest and strongest here, I'll go in alone. No need for us to take unnecessary risks.
Bruno's commanding tone left no room for argument. Samira stared at him for a moment, but said nothing—only nodded. Camille grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back behind the car with the rest of the group. Meanwhile, Bruno adjusted his grip on the knife, eyes locked on the supermarket entrance, bracing himself for whatever came next.
Camille, her heart still tight with the horror she had witnessed at Larissa's house, couldn't shake her unease. The thought of stepping into a market possibly crawling with infected was insane. Trying to make the others see reason, she spoke firmly:— Seriously? Even knowing there could be infected inside, you're still gonna break in? You've gotta be out of your mind!
Bruno, his face pale and worn, listened to Camille's words without looking away. It was clear he was exhausted, but that didn't lessen his determination. The cut on his face burned like fire, and he could feel the blood running endlessly. Still, he answered, his voice hoarse and heavy with fatigue:— Look at me, Camille. I'm covered in blood, my face has this motherf**ing cut that won't stop burning or bleeding. I have no idea if it's gonna infect me or not. All I know is I'm going in there and taking out anything that gets in my way, because that's what I have to do to make sure my sister stays safe.*
Camille stayed silent for a moment. She realized arguing would be pointless; Bruno had already made his decision. Resigned, she said:— Alright… but I'm staying hidden behind the cars until you clear the area. And I agree, Samira can't go in there, not under any circumstances. It's way too dangerous for her.
Bruno gave a faint smile to Samira, trying to convey some confidence, even though he wasn't sure of anything himself. Then he turned to the other girl beside his sister, a figure still unfamiliar to him:— Okay, you crazy one… you and Samira stay here with João.
He then faced João Paulo directly, speaking seriously:— And you, Jão, stay here to protect them. No slacking off, alright? If anything comes running out of there, do everything you can to keep them safe, got it?
João Paulo clenched his fists, uneasy with the idea of Bruno going in alone. He waited until Bruno started to walk away before grabbing his shoulder, turning him to confront him:— Bro, are you crazy? Going in alone? You wanna die, man!
Bruno looked away, as if he didn't want to meet João's indignation head-on. His voice was low but steady, full of a mix of resignation and self-sacrifice:— Hey, big guy… I'm the one least likely to make it out in one piece here. I'm totally f**ed. I just want to be sure that, before I turn into one of those infected, I did something to make sure Samira has a safe place. You feel me?*
João Paulo released Bruno's shoulder but stayed rooted in place, eyes locked on his friend, trying to find the right words. In the end, all he could manage was a hesitant nod, still processing the fact that he might not be able to change Bruno's mind.
João Paulo couldn't hold back his frustration any longer. He stepped forward, his voice sharp with indignation:— Bro, it only takes two or three minutes for someone infected to turn! You've been like this for almost fifteen! Maybe whoever survives the attack is immune—ever thought about that?
Bruno paused for a second, clenched his fists, and turned to face João Paulo. His face was full of rage, the blood from his cut pulsing along with his frustration. He shouted, his voice cutting through the silence:— Don't give me that, Jão! This f**ing thing burns like hell and won't stop bleeding! You think you know everything now? Sometimes their blood acts differently than their saliva, ever think of that, you idiot?*
João took a step back but kept his eyes locked on Bruno. Before he could respond, Bruno let out a frustrated huff and, with a sharp motion, turned away:— You know what? Screw it. I'm going now!
Without another second of hesitation, Bruno started walking toward the supermarket entrance. His body was tense, muscles rigid as he raised his guard. When he reached the doorway, he paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and scanned the aisles, his eyes catching even the smallest movement. The silence inside was deafening, and the smell of blood mixed with abandoned cleaning products filled the air. Bruno moved carefully, stepping lightly as he inspected each section, senses alert and ready.
Outside, Samira watched her brother disappear into the market. Her face was marked with worry and doubt. She turned to Camille, seeking some comfort or answers:— Hey Camille, when you left school… did you stop by your house? Did you check on your siblings? Is this happening just up here or down there too?
Camille lowered her head, her voice barely audible, words choked by the knot in her throat:— I… I didn't have the courage. After what happened at Larissa's house… I just ran straight here.
She paused, taking a deep breath, then looked at Samira with eyes full of uncertainty:— By the way, your brother… how does he do it? He doesn't even seem afraid of all this. He doesn't hesitate. At school… it was almost like he was enjoying it, like it was a game, you know? He laughed, like the Joker in the middle of all the chaos. It scared me… seriously. But now he's different, kind of distant. It feels like something's changed in him…
Samira watched her brother disappear into the market entrance, a tightness gripping her chest. To her, Bruno wasn't just an older brother. With an absent mother and a father who might as well not exist, he was the closest thing she had to a father figure. He was the one who had always been there, flaws and all. Camille had touched on something Samira couldn't ignore, and she quickly moved to correct her:— I think you're jumping to conclusions, Camille. I know Bruno better than anyone. He's scared, yeah. He's just too proud to admit it. My brother hates showing weakness. I've never seen him cry, at least.
Samira paused, staring in the direction he had disappeared. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper:— I think he's starting to feel the weight of what happened at school. He takes a while to process things, you know? It hits him long after. He never feels it when it actually happens.
Camille didn't respond. She just lowered her head, trying to digest Samira's words.
João Paulo, restless in the silence that followed, shifted his attention to what was bothering him most. He looked directly at Camille and blurted out:— Camille, what about Larissa? What happened to her?
Camille's face went pale instantly, her breathing quickening. It was like João had ripped open a raw wound. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and answered, her voice shaky:— Her mom… her mom infected her.
Her words hit like a bomb. João Paulo's eyes widened, visibly shaken but also curious. He needed to understand what that meant. He stepped forward, pressing further:— What do you mean, infected? She… bit Larissa?
Camille started trembling. Tears ran down her face, but she forced herself to answer, unable to meet anyone's gaze:— She didn't bite… but it was horrible. She appeared out of nowhere, jumping straight at Larissa's neck and squeezing… so hard.
Her voice dropped lower, trembling as she relived the moment:— But what really scared me was what she did after… God, it was disgusting.
João Paulo seemed about to ask more, but when he looked at Camille, he realized just how shaken she was. She was trembling so violently it seemed like she might collapse right there. He took a deep breath and, against his instincts, decided not to press her.
The group fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. The air around them felt heavier, weighed down not just by the fear of the infected, but by the horrors they were living through.
Camille, still trying to process what she had witnessed, began to feel nauseous. The memories of Larissa's house hit her like a punch, so vivid that her body reacted before her mind. She leaned to the side and vomited near Samira, who immediately stepped back, concerned.— Camille! Are you okay? — Samira asked, placing a careful hand on her shoulder.
Camille couldn't answer, only shaking her head while wiping her mouth with the blood-stained sleeve of her shirt. João Paulo watched the scene, swallowing hard. After a few seconds, he sighed and commented, trying to ease the tension:— Forget it… I get it. Whatever happened there must have been rough.
As Camille tried to compose herself, Samira's friend, who had been mostly quiet until then, started glancing nervously toward the supermarket entrance. She crossed her arms, uneasy, before finally speaking:— Guys, don't you think Samira's brother is taking too long in there?
Her concern sparked anxiety in Samira, who was already on edge. Her fear for her brother grew with every passing minute. She turned to João Paulo, her face visibly strained, and pleaded:— Jão, go check on my brother, please. We'll be fine here…
João Paulo hesitated. He looked toward the supermarket entrance, weighing the risks. Then he shook his head and replied:— I think it's better not to. He gave me the job of protecting you, and I'm not going against his orders. But don't worry, he'll be back soon.
Despite his words, João's expression didn't inspire confidence. His skin was pale, and he avoided looking directly at Samira. It was clear he was worried about Bruno—or worse, about what might have happened inside.
Camille, watching everything from the corner of her eye, noticed something the others hadn't: João Paulo was terrified. The slight tremor in his hands and the sweat gathering on his forehead gave him away. She thought about commenting but decided to keep it to herself, no matter how scared he was.
***
At Bruno's house, chaos had already taken over. His mother, fully infected, lunged at Hanne like a frenzied beast. With brutal strength, she grabbed Hanne by the head and started smashing her against the wall without mercy. Each impact echoed like cracking wood, and soon the white surface began to stain red. The blows were so violent that, in a short time, cracks formed in the wall, as if the concrete itself were giving way to her rage.
Hanne, almost powerless, collapsed to the floor. Her lifeless body lay in a pool of blood, her breaths shallow and weak, her eyes beginning to lose focus. Her mother, now completely consumed by the virus, took on a grotesque appearance. Her neck was twisted, as if broken, unable to support the head that hung grotesquely to the left. Thick saliva mixed with coagulated blood dripped from her mouth, a shade so deep it blended with the surrounding darkness.
She bent down slowly, each movement a distorted echo of what had once been human. With her rough tongue coated in infected saliva, she passed over the warm blood running from Hanne's head. Her eyes, once brown, were now dull and covered by a viscous layer of mucus, while her irritated pupils glowed with a fiery red.
The scene worsened when, with a brutal tug, she grabbed Hanne's brown hair, forcing her head upward. Without hesitation, she sank her teeth into her neck. The sound of flesh tearing reverberated through the room, and a gush of blood sprayed everywhere, staining the walls and the infected woman's face as she bit with insatiable hunger.
Haissa, the youngest, watched frozen with fear. Her small eyes were wide with terror, unable to let out even a scream. When the scene finally registered in her mind, her survival instinct kicked in. Her heart pounded so fast it felt like it would explode. She turned and ran toward the bathroom, locking the door with trembling hands as tears streamed down her face. Outside, the sounds of her mother chewing Hanne's neck mixed with the cracking of bones and the agonized moans escaping from her sister.
***
In the supermarket, Bruno felt a strange tightness in his chest, like something was pressing from the inside. He paused for a moment, pressing his hand against the spot where his heart raced. He whispered to himself:— What the hell is this feeling? Feels like I'm being crushed… hard to even breathe… But screw it. Just need to check the storage room.
He approached the storage room door at the back of the market. Carefully, he peered through a crack. Five infected were inside, moving erratically, yet menacingly. Bruno closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think clearly.— If I go straight in, they'll come at me like a pack of hyenas… but wait… I can use that to my advantage. Set a trap. Yeah, take them one by one.
He stepped back slowly, his movements silent, and began searching for something useful in the market. He scoured aisles, boxes, and shelves, but what he found wasn't enough. Nothing that could effectively take on five infected at once. He took a deep breath, trying to contain his frustration.— Shit… five against one. I'm not calling Jão to help, that bastard might stab me with the knife again. And compromise Samira's safety. No way.
With few options, Bruno turned his attention to the butcher section. He walked silently, moving to the other side of the counter. He grabbed a large piece of frozen meat and placed it on a table near the grinder and the scale. Then, he drew the knife he carried at his waist, setting it on the scale. After that, he began gathering all the knives available in the butcher section, stacking them beside the meat.
He tested each blade carefully. Sliding the edge across the meat, making precise cuts, and finishing with a firm tap on the table to gauge its resistance. After selecting the best knife, he started calculating his chances.— Alright… but they won't go down easily. They're adults, damn it. Cutting their jugulars mid-attack is almost impossible. Not to mention the knife could get stuck and leave me completely vulnerable…
Bruno stepped back, clenching his fists as he tried to assemble a plan in his mind. Then, an idea came to him.— Wait… the infected kids at the school. They all died from head injuries, just like any normal human. That's it… they can be taken out the same way. I need a sledgehammer or a hammer. Hit them in the head hard enough, knock them out, and then take them down one by one. Simple, right? Yeah… not really.
He laughed nervously, aware that the plan was anything but simple. But it was all he had. With renewed determination, Bruno began searching for a tool that could be used as a weapon. As he moved through the market, his breathing remained heavy, and the tightness in his chest didn't ease. Something beyond the infected felt wrong, but he didn't have time to dwell on it.
Bruno found both a hammer and the 2 kg sledgehammer he had been looking for. He inspected the tools carefully, testing the handles to make sure nothing would fail in the heat of combat. Grabbing the 2 kg sledgehammer, he murmured to himself:— This is it. Bigger impact and easier to handle. Now the plan's simple: one arm keeps these bastards away, the other crushes their skulls.
With the sledgehammer in hand, he approached the storage room door. His movements were controlled, each step calculated to avoid making noise. He opened the door with extreme care, peeking inside. The infected had spread out. A psychotic gleam appeared in his eyes as he thought:— Perfect… now I wipe these losers out.
Crouching, he began moving through the storage room like a stalking predator. The first infected had its back to him, arms raised toward the light streaming through the ceiling vents. Bruno couldn't help but make a comparison.— Looks like Goku going SSJ4 in GT… beautiful, but I'm still gonna kill you, you bastard.
He moved closer, his gaze full of malice. Raising the sledgehammer behind him felt almost like a ritual. With all his strength, he swung directly at the infected's head. The sound was grotesque: a crack followed by the crushing of bones. The force of the blow tore open a hole in the skull, and the body collapsed like a sack of lifeless meat. But the noise was enough to alert the others.
Bruno's eyes widened as the remaining infected turned toward him.— Oh, shit… messed up.
Without wasting a second, he sprinted through the storage room, knocking over everything in his path. Shelves toppled, boxes spilled their contents across the floor. The infected stumbled, falling over the debris. When he glanced back, he realized his strategy had worked: only one infected was still chasing him closely.
With a twisted smile, Bruno stopped and spun to face the pursuer. Holding the sledgehammer firmly, he charged at the infected. At the moment of impact, he grabbed the creature's arm, pulling it to the side while stomping on its shin, throwing it off balance. The infected fell face-first to the ground, and Bruno used the position to press it against the concrete with one hand.
With the other, he raised the sledgehammer. His blows were brutal, each one stronger than the last, until the infected's skull turned into a pulp of blood and brain matter. He barely had time to catch his breath before hearing a growl behind him. Another infected was already in the air, leaping toward him.
In an almost animal reflex, Bruno delivered a powerful kick to the creature's stomach, sending it flying backward. He switched the sledgehammer to his other hand, his arms already aching from exertion. When the infected lunged at him again, it got a frontal kick to the chest, crashing into the fallen shelves.
Gasping and with his shoulders on fire, Bruno knew he had to finish this. He raised the sledgehammer with both hands and, letting out a furious scream, swung it down directly onto the infected's forehead. The impact shattered the skull, sending fragments of bone and blood across the floor.
But the relief didn't last long. From the corner of his eye, he saw the fourth infected coming full force. Instinctively, he twisted his body, holding the sledgehammer with one hand. The strike was clumsy but effective: the hammer's edge slammed into the monster's mouth with enough force to break teeth and the jaw, leaving a chunk of bone exposed near the ear.
Bruno staggered back, his arms trembling from the effort. The sound of growls echoed around him, and he knew it wasn't over yet. But one thing was certain: he was determined to get out of there alive, even if he had to turn each of those infected into a pile of mutilated meat.