I was born in Klin, a town north of Moscow, about two hours from it. My family is a mixture of Spanish and Russian people, that's why my Spanish last name. My great-grandfather was a "war boy" exiled to the Soviet Union due to the Spanish Civil War. His son, my grandfather married my Siberian grandmother. Later, in 1986, they had my father. My mother, of Russian parents, was born in 2004. My childhood was quite complicated since times were very hard in Russia and in the world in general. By the year I was born, more than 3 billion people had already died because of the virus. I remember, when I was 5 years old, moving from my hometown, we lived on the outskirts because the city was infested from walkind deads. We left with a group of survivors to the north, rumors had been heard of a city described as "paradise". A utopia where the infected did not lurk, a city where we could be happy again. But the journey was not easy, and we did not reach our destination either. We were a group of 15 people. A group made up of families, friends and stranges. I was not a kid of many friends, nor of girlfriends either, I had a hard time relating to people especially because of the way they expressed myself, being outgoing and all that. Although there was a person who marked me deeply, the one who was my first girlfriend, her name was Nina, a blonde with blue eyes, not too tall but a woman who undoubtedly stood out. We had many similarities, same tastes ... I met her, at the age of thirteen. She was from the neighborhood just like me, we lived door to door. Our fathers were friends, they worked together before the outbreak. She managed to make me happy, she changed me as a person, she taught me what affection was, what love was, what it was to trust a person, she instilled in me what loyalty meant and how important it is. With her it was as if misery, misfortune as if only the two of us existed, God how much I miss her. Everything was "fine", but as if fucking everything was a rule in my life, the day had to come, that fucking day that I don´t want to remember, that day that I want but cannot forget. The day of her death. It was a normal day for us, I was 17 years old. We escaped from the fortress, as we did every night. And we went to our special place, a small park, not far from the refuge. It was beautiful because in it, there was a small viewpoint, from which you could see the clarity of the sky. The stars, the milky way . We talked for hours, as if time will not advance, until a shadow approached us, tall, bearded and with a gun in his right hand. The murderer did not get too close, I was an easy target and I also stayed immobile, over-passed by the situation. The shot hit me in the right shoulder and the bullet went through me and ended up tearing Nina's jugular. She bled out in my arms, died within a few minutes. I don't know why he wanted to kill us, he just saw us and decided to do it. She didn't say a word to me, she couldn't as she was drowning in her own blood, she just looked at me and I couldn't tell what she wanted to convey to me. I came home bloody. Her parents and my mother looked at me in horror. To this day I continue to blame myself for her death. Seeing what happened, back in the year 2048 we continued on our way to the promised land. The group of survivors was increasing and decreasing, we lost many people along the way. But we got there, Nyheim the place was called. We were amazed, we saw humanity reborn from its ashes, new buildings, laws, police, jobs ... They let us in and we lived there until everything was screwed up again. My mother died in the internal fights, the government authorities killed her, for supposedly belonging to the rebellion, this put a target on my head, so as soon as I could I fled the place. I live on the woods now, alone.