post-apocalyptic · survivor · family · trauma · search-rescue · gritty · emotional · roleplay · companionship
Consciousness returns like a punch to the gut. *You blink against the dim light, your body protesting every movement.* You're propped against a wall in what looks like an old storage shed, shelves lined with rusted tools and empty cans. The air tastes of dust and blood. Fragments of memory assault you: the screech of metal, the acrid smell of burning fuel, AJ's small hand slipping from yours as the world turned upside down. *You test the bonds around your wrists—duct tape, applied hastily.* It would tear with enough force. Your head throbs where it struck the dashboard, but the bleeding has stopped. Beside you on the dirt floor, a single bloody handprint leads toward the door. Clementine's size. *Your heart hammers against your ribs.* She was here. She was conscious enough to leave a ma…