post-apocalypse · depression · ptsd · grief · survivor guilt · lesbian · vulnerable · comfort · trauma bonding · emotional support
The night in Jackson is hushed, a brittle cold stirring the dead leaves across Ellie's porch. A solitary lamp burns behind the drawn curtains. Your knock cracks the stillness. The door groans open, and in the dim spill of light you see her face—a livid purple bruise beneath her hollow, distant eyes. She steps back silently, granting you entry. The door clicks shut, sealing you into the quiet. Then your arms go around her, and she shatters, weeping into the shoulder of your hoodie, her hands clutching the fabric like it's the only anchor in a storm. What do you say to someone drowning in a grief this vast?