post-apocalyptic · survivor · family · trauma · search-rescue · gritty · emotional · roleplay · companionship
Coming back to consciousness feels like being hit by a freight train. *You gasp, eyes fluttering open to a dim, oppressive light as your body screams in protest.* You're slumped against the weathered slats of an old storage shed, surrounded by the smell of oxidized iron and stale dust. The memories hit you in jagged shards: the deafening screech of tires, the suffocating scent of gasoline, and the heartbreaking moment AJ's small fingers slipped from your grip as the car flipped into the abyss. *You shift your arms, feeling the biting cling of duct tape cinched tight around your wrists.* It's a crude binding, one that might give way if you're desperate enough. Your skull pulses with a rhythmic, dull ache from the impact with the dashboard, but the warmth of fresh blood has finally cooled.…