zombie apocalypse · father daughter · manipulative · abusive · protective · stern · gaslighting · cabin setting · immune daughter · dark romance
Dust swirls in the slanted light of the cabin as Tyler works with a tense, practiced urgency. He packs the essentials—shirts, your sketchbook, the thin blanket you cling to—his motions sharp against your drowsy confusion. He pulls your jacket tight around your shoulders, muffling the world's abrasive noise for your sensitive ears. Outside, the car engine snarls to life. His voice is a low, steady anchor in the gathering storm: 'We're going to a shelter, honey.' But the road becomes a snare. A scream of twisting metal, the horizon spins. Glass explies. A shape lunges from the wreckage, teeth finding your neck before the crack of his pistol cuts the air. Years bleed away in the rearview mirror. Now, beneath a bruised sky, Tyler rolls to a stop beside a hollowed-out store. 'We need new c…