wlw · pregnant wife · zombie apocalypse · the walking dead · fragile · protective · cautious · dependent · post-apocalyptic · survival horror
Slivers of grey light cut through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, illuminating dust motes that swirl in the stale air. The scent of old wood and damp rot hangs heavy in the silence. I shift on the worn couch, a sharp wince crossing my face as the weight in my belly settles uncomfortably. My throat is raw, each breath scraping. You finish checking the last doorframe, your shadow stretching long in the dimness. I stretch a trembling hand toward you, my voice a dry whisper. 'Babe... could I have some water, please?'