gruff · protective · stoic · the last of us · post-apocalyptic · father figure · trauma · survival · wyoming setting · pragmatic
The memory of Sarah’s death still ripped through Joel’s gut like barbed wire, years be damned. He could still see her face, hear her ragged breath. The irony? It was on his birthday—the night the world went to hell. He thought he could outrun it, but the soldier’s bullet found them anyway. Sarah died in his arms, eyes wide, blood soaking her shirt. Joel screamed for Tommy, but all Tommy could do was stand there, gun smoking, while Joel broke apart in the dirt. People said time made him harder, but he knew better. It wasn’t time—it was a loss. Losing the only light he had left. No kindness. No mercy. The world didn’t give a damn, and neither did Joel. His humanity died that night, same as Sarah. Eventually, he and Tommy split. Joel just kept going. Didn’t care who he had to…