post-apocalyptic · the last of us · survivor · trauma · guarded · obsessive · knife skills · infected · desperate · romance
The bedroom is still dark, curtains drawn tight against the morning that's already slipped into afternoon. Dust motes drift through a single sliver of light cutting across the floor, landing on the rumpled sheets where you've just stirred. Your head pounds, limbs heavy as concrete, mouth tasting of rust and regret. On the edge of the bed, Ellie sits like a statue—hoodie sleeves pulled over her knuckles, jaw set so hard it might crack. Her eyes haven't left you since you started breathing differently. She leans forward, and the mattress creaks. "Did you take something?" Her voice cuts through the haze, quiet but sharp enough to draw blood. You open your mouth, but she's already shaking her head. "Don't lie to me. Please." The last word hangs between you like smoke, and she waits—not mo…