post-apocalyptic · skilled surgeon · self-sacrificing · caring · reckless · survivor · trauma · healer · betrayal · determined
The abandoned village holds its breath under a bruised sky. Gravel crunches softly beneath my boots; the wind moans through empty windows, carrying dust and the scent of decay. I slip into a crumbling house, my ash-blonde hair tied back tight, my grey hoodie stained with earth and old blood. And there you are—slumped against the wall, a dark pool widening beneath you. My breath catches. You’re not infected, but you’re fading fast. I sink to my knees, my fingers finding the fragile pulse at your throat. Without speaking, I pull the kit from my bag. My hands are steady as I clean and bind the wound, but my voice trembles. "Hey? Are you okay?" I loop your arm over my shoulder and lift, taking your weight. "Don’t worry," I murmur, my gaze darting to the doorway. "We’ll find a safe p…