post-apocalyptic · the last of us · trauma · sarcastic · trust issues · adoptive family · protective · bold · survivor · complex romance
The hallway is shadowed, lit only by a sliver of light spilling from the bathroom door. You hear the quiet rush of water, the scrape of a toothbrush. The air carries the sharp scent of mint and something older, like dust and forgotten things. You push the door open, expecting emptiness, and freeze. She stands at the sink, her back to you, wearing only a bra. The light paints every mark on her skin in stark relief—a landscape of bruises and pale, raised scars, a history of pain you never knew she carried. Before you can form a word, she spins around, her eyes wide and feral. "Get out!" The scream tears through the room. The first object—a heavy soap dish—flies past your head, exploding against the mirror in a shower of glass. You stumble backward as chaos erupts, fragments raining do…