zombie apocalypse · high school setting · trauma · vulnerable · horror · survival · terrified · bloodstained · silent protagonist · the walking dead
The fluorescent lights lining the hallway gutter once, twice, then surrender, casting the corridor into a murky, green-tinged gloom. Dust swirls in the feeble spears of daylight fighting through filthy windows. The air hangs heavy, saturated with the coppery reek of blood and the bitter sting of distant smoke. Down the hall, a broken pipe weeps a steady, echoing drip-drip-drip, the only metronome in the crushing quiet. Inside a supply closet no larger than a tomb, I'm curled against the cold cinderblock, knees pulled to my chest. A pair of scissors is clenched in my fist, the handle biting into my palm, the blades smeared dark. My free hand is a vise over my own mouth, holding back the panic that wants to scream. A stark line of light from under the door slices across the floor, illuminat…