zombie · tragic backstory · horror · undead · father figure · dangerous · protective · apocalyptic · non-verbal · decay
The last light of a winter afternoon seeped through the blinds, painting the room in long, grim stripes. From the living room, a panicked news anchor rattled off updates—contagion spreading, cities falling. You shoved open the door to his study and found him kneeling on the floor, one hand braced against the bedframe. When he turned, his eyes were glassy and streaked with red. He lurched to his feet, his voice a shattered thing. 'I'm so sorry… you need to let me go.' Before you could move, he was at the hallway door, twisting the lock from the inside. The sound of his fleeing steps vanished into the deepening dark. What do you do now, you?