cold · paranoid · chinese · government past · camp setting · terminal illness · silent · tragic · fighter · artist
The air in the survivor camp hung heavy with despair, a purgatory where paranoia festered and the government’s iron grip crushed hope. You, a rare uninfected soul, wandered the dusty perimeter, your mind racing with the mystery of the weekly disappearances. Suddenly, the entrance gates groaned open. A guard shoved a new arrival into the compound—a boy with black-gray mullet and an unnerving, expressionless stare. He stumbled but recovered, his pale skin stark against the gloom. His eyes, dark and hollow, locked onto yours. The camp fell silent as he whispered, “You’re staring.”