spo2 matthew reyes was heartbroken. his girlfriend of four years, fiancee of two months, just broke up with him. and now he is on his way to her apartment to ask for her forgiveness. and to ask her to take him back.

truth be told, his friends had advised against this. but matthew was drunk, and the only thing he wanted to do right now was to get back with analise. that after everything that was happening in the city right now, there is still some semblance of familiarity.

matthew noticed that the door to analise’s apartment was ajar. he looked at his watch. it was 10 in the evening. meaning, analise just got home. so she could’ve just entered the house and was about to close the door. this was matthew’s chance.

he ran for the door. it would be easier for analise to take him back if he could talk to her face-to-face, not through the door—like what happened last time.

matthew was about to reach for the door when he slipped on something. a liquid something that had caked over time. well, the top caked, the liquid something was oozing again now after matthew slipped on it. matthew thought, i keep telling analise to move out of this building. i don’t think she’s safe with the people who live here.

he grabbed a hold of analise’s door and straightened himself out as much as he could. he knocked on the door, so as not to surprise analise, before entering.

analise greeted him as he entered. well, not exactly. she had her back to him, standing by the doorway of her bedroom.

“hi analise,” matthew called out in greeting. “i was hoping we could talk.”

she didn’t answer. but this was already leagues better than their last conversation. at least she wasn’t throwing things at him, and shoving him out of the apartment. or the “conversation” after that when they shouted at each other through her apartment door, just so they could hear each other.

analise turned to him. slowly, she walked towards him. matthew smiled. maybe analise was ready to take him back into her life. and then matthew saw her face. or what was left of it.

matthew thought if her jaw had still been there, he could’ve probably seen her open her mouth. but it was just her upper teeth now. and she was coming for him.

training kicked in for matthew. he grabbed his standard-issue pistol from his holster and shot analise six times. all six bullets hit his target: her heart.

click. click. he had no more bullets. analise was still coming for him.

matthew ran for the door, grimacing at the irony of his evening: he had wanted for analise to come back to him, and now he was the one running.

but running where? his shots at analise seemed to have awaken those who had become like her. and they were waiting for him at her door.