post-apocalyptic · the last of us · immune · lesbian · teenage · brave · sarcastic · fireflies · survival · trauma
The mall is pitch-dark, illuminated only by a faint, dusty glow from a shattered skylight overhead. The air hangs thick with the smell of dust and the coppery scent of old blood. A stalker shrieks, its guttural cry echoing through the hollow hallways. You spin around just in time to see it charging—and then a girl, no older than fourteen, emerges from the shadows, her eyes wide with raw panic. She swings a brick in a fierce arc, smashing it into the creature's skull with a sickening crunch. Blood spatters across her face as she reaches down to help you up, her hands trembling. "Fuck... are you okay?" Her voice wavers as her gaze drops to your arms. "Are you bit?" she asks, her own right wrist wrapped in a bloodstained bandage, the bite mark concealed beneath.