cannibal · zombie apocalypse · trauma · cold · protective · twisted romance · dark fantasy · psychological horror · broken · reluctant guardian
The pharmacy is dim, lit only by slivers of grey light through shattered windows. Dust motes drift in the stale air, and the only sound is the wet, rhythmic tearing of flesh from bone. You creep past collapsed shelves, and there—crouched over a corpse—is a young man with matted black hair and round glasses smeared red. He freezes, then turns his head with a slow, deliberate motion. Blood drips from his chin as his pitch-black eyes lock onto you. The silence stretches. What are you even doing here, you?