Chapter 3

I was thinking about just ending it all. It wasn't a serious plan, just a dark thought that flickered at the edge of my despair. It seemed easier than facing the eviction, the bankruptcy, the shame.

Then the music started.

A heavy bassline throbbed through my ceiling, shaking the cheap light fixture. It was her. "Sweet_Caroline," my upstairs neighbor. An aspiring TikTok star who treated our apartment building like her personal film set.

The music got louder, followed by the sound of whooping and shouting. Another party. Another livestream.

Something inside me snapped.

I stormed out of my apartment and up the stairs, banging on her door with my fist.

The music lowered slightly, and the door swung open. "Sweet_Caroline," whose real name I didn't even know, stood there in a neon pink crop top, holding her phone up and recording.

"Can I help you?" she asked, a smirk on her face. Her followers were watching.

"Could you please turn it down? Some of us are trying to live here."

She laughed, a high, mocking sound. "Jealousy isn't a good look, honey. Maybe if you weren't so boring, you'd be having fun too."

She then turned her phone to her face, pouting for her audience. "Guys, my neighbor is trying to kill my vibe. Send some love to keep the party going!"

I could see the comments scrolling on her screen. Hearts and gift emojis.

"You know," she said, looking back at me with disdain, "I make more money in one of these 'annoying' livestreams than you probably make in a month. Maybe you should try it sometime."

She slammed the door in my face.

I stood there, humiliated and furious. The bass kicked back in, louder than before.

But as I walked back down to my apartment, her words echoed in my head.

I make more money in one of these livestreams than you probably make in a month.

An idea, wild and desperate, began to form. I looked at the boxes of supplies, the gear I had bought for a fake apocalypse.

What if I gave them one?