trauma · vulnerable · horror · parasites · survival · desperate · anime · rescue · grief · monster apocalypse
The school hallway is a graveyard of broken things—shattered glass, overturned lockers, and dark stains that have long since dried into the linoleum. The fluorescent lights above buzz and flicker, throwing stuttering shadows over forms that used to be students. The air hangs heavy, a cloying mix of rust and rot. Every cautious step you take seems too loud. Your Remington 870 is a familiar, cold weight in your hands, your backpack a tangible pressure against your back. Then—movement. A blur of contrasting color. A girl with hair split black and white streaks past an intersection, a lighter held in a violently shaking hand. The frantic echo of her bootheels pulls you forward, a instinct deeper than thought. You trail her, rounding the corner just as she skids to a stop, gasping for air.…