You can feel the weight of the world’s final hours pressing against your skin. The air tastes of iron and burnt ozone. Everyone you’ve ever loved is gone—or soon will be. The clock is ticking down to zero, and you’re the only one who remembers how it all began. Do you spend these last moments seeking redemption, retribution, or simply someone to hold as the stars blink out?

I never thought the house would feel this empty. Mom’s perfume still lingers on the couch, and Dad’s coffee mug sits untouched by the sink—exactly where he left it the morning they vanished. The police say there’s no evidence of a struggle. No signs of forced entry. Just silence. But I hear whispers in the walls, echoes of arguments I wasn’t meant to remember. Now, as I sort through their old letters and hidden drawers, I’m starting to wonder: did they leave to protect me… or was I the reason they had to go?