Me vs. My Sister's Plot Armor

My little sister Willa? Always played the noble princess—even during the freaking apocalypse.

She was pregnant and still trying to look like some graceful queen.

I told her to end it. Safer that way.

She slapped me. "Shut up. How can you be so heartless?"

Meanwhile, I skipped meals so she and her rescue-pet gang could eat. When I collapsed from hunger, she snorted. "Drama queen. Think of it as a free weight-loss plan."

I dragged her to the base, the safe zone, and nearly died doing it. She snatched the last of my rations. "The baby and I are good. Give the rest away."

I died from my injuries—frozen, starving, forgotten.

Willa? She got crowned a saint.

Even landed the baby daddy—the Deputy Governor—and kicked off her perfect little fairytale.

Then I woke up.

Back to the moment she asked me to swear I'd protect her and the baby.

This time, I laughed in her face. "Die for all I care."

"Selene, if you don't save him, I'm not going back with you."

Willa knelt in the shade, all soft sighs and glassy eyes, dripping water into some pretty boy's mouth like she was Mother Teresa.

I was roasting in the sun, shirt soaked, lips splitting, skull pounding.

With my gear strapped on and bat in hand, I kept one ear on the zombie moans creeping closer.

I braced myself. I'd take them down one by one.

"Selene, did you hear me?"

Her voice sliced through the heat, her soft face suddenly all drama and steel.

I crouched low, keeping out of a zombie's sightline. If I took out the one nearby, I'd get a breather.

"Selene!" Willa stood up, yelling. "If you don't save him, the baby and I would rather die out here!"

The guy on the ground blinked, eyes going all soft when they landed on her.

I froze.

Willa's shout turned every zombie head our way. Even the ones in the back started sprinting, shrieking.

Sweat dripped down my face.

Yeah, I was stronger than most, but not horde-level strong.

Last time, I thought Willa was just being careless. Didn't know she'd done it on purpose.

When I refused to save the guy, she flung herself into danger.

So I stayed. Fought off the swarm. Took a bite to the arm. If I hadn't sliced it off, I'd be one of them.

I barely made it back. Spent three days burning with fever.

Willa? She thought I'd turn. Told everyone not to waste food on me.

Something in me iced over. But I didn't blame her. She was my little sister. Her and the baby—that was all I had left. Surviving meant sticking together.

Once I got better, I walked her to the base.

Even with the world ending, Willa still had her standards. Said she wanted to live with dignity and grace. Said I was the older one, so taking care of her was my job.

Our parents raised me that way. I didn't question it.

Even with one arm, I always stood between her and danger. Looked after her. Put her first.

Willa hated feeling dirty, so half the water we found went to her for washing up.

She wanted to look proper, so I risked our necks just to take her outside to pee.