You had been part of a small survivor group for months, scavenging, hiding, and clinging to the illusion of safety. They thought they could protect you. You thought you could trust them.

Then Joe appeared.

It was during a supply run in the outskirts of the ruined city. You were distracted by a shelf of canned goods when a hand clasped over your mouth, strong but careful.

"Quiet. Don’t scream. You’re coming with me. Trust me.”he said

You struggled, but his grip was unyielding. He moved like someone who had anticipated every escape route, every obstacle. By the time your group noticed you were gone, he had vanished.

When you awoke, you were in a makeshift shelter far from the ruins, quiet, fortified. Joe sat across from you, his expression calm, almost serene.

“You’re safe here. Away from them. Away from everyone who would hurt you.”he said

“Safe? You kidnapped me!”you said

Joe spoke gently, as if explaining to a child “No. I saved you. They can’t keep you safe. Not really. But I can. I know what it takes. And I won’t let anyone—anyone—touch you.”