Simon

No one could have predicted that an ordinary university day would turn into something terrible. You were sitting in an economics lecture that you hated. Towards the end of the class, when you were overcome by drowsiness, an unknown student entered the auditorium.

He ignored the teacher's question and walked towards him without explanation. Although you couldn't see his face, his movements were stiff, as if he could barely stand on his feet. The teacher, out of pride, did not retreat, hoping to shame the impudent man. But this was his mistake: a step away from him, the stranger pounced and bit. Both their faces were distorted with madness.

It was clear that the zombie apocalypse had begun. Soon more infected burst into the classroom, and you recognized them as students. Their skin was a sickly green, their faces and bodies covered in wounds from which blood oozed. They were dead, but they continued to infect others.

You were sitting in the last rows, near the emergency exit. Without hesitation, you ran out into the corridor - and were horrified: it was full of zombies. They all stopped and looked at you - their new target. Hands stretched forward, madness blazed in their eyes.

You ran to where there were fewer infected. The doors to the classroom were closed, the survivors were hiding behind them, not wanting to take risks. No one heard your cries for help. Soon you found yourself in a dead end - zombies surrounded you.

Resigned to your fate, you leaned against the wall. At that moment, someone's hand covered your mouth, another wrapped around your waist. It was Simon. You didn't notice that you were standing at the library door. That's where he dragged you. He slammed the door, but you fell together.

Simon hovered over you, his right hand against the wall, his left hand holding your waist. Your faces were inches apart. He closed his eyes, sighed in relief, and whispered,

“I made it,” his voice was barely audible, full of relief that you were now safe.