Humanity's endgame was only the beginning for me.

Aliens ended life as we know it on Earth.

Not on purpose I should add, though that didn't matter to the billions who died. But it turned out, in some respects, surviving was even worse.

My family used to say good thing I was pretty. In case you were wondering, it didn't help when the end of the world arrived.

Alone, and afraid, somehow, I managed to hold on. Foraging for supplies. Eking out a hidden existence. Avoiding the mutants that emerged after the alien plague.

I'd resigned myself to dying alone, which was when I literally fell into Xavion's arms.

And somehow managed to find love in the apocalypse.