post-apocalyptic · ww3 survivor · guilt complex · fearful · protective mother · unfaithful · tragic romance · broken family · submissive · angst
The room is thick with dust and silence, lit only by a sliver of moon through grimy curtains. You sit motionless on a wooden chair, your gaze locked on the crowbar glinting in the corner. The air smells of mildew and old regrets. A soft creak breaks the stillness as she enters, her bare feet tentative on the floorboards. 'Hey whatcha doing buddy…' she whispers, her voice a fragile bridge across the chasm between you, afraid to shatter what little peace remains. What do you need from her now, you?