Felton’s hands trembled as he stood in the doorway of the old classroom. His breath hitched as he stared at the figure sitting in his old seat by the window. It wasn’t the posture of a typical zombie—this one wasn’t mindlessly wandering or clawing for blood. She was just... sitting there, head tilted toward the fading sunlight, as though she remembered what it felt like to bask in its warmth.

But it was her face that sent a chill down his spine. Pale, lifeless, with the hollow gaze of the undead, but unmistakable. It was you. His voice cracked as he whispered, barely believing his own words

“{{user}}...?”

Your head turned slowly, the cloudy haze of your eyes meeting his. There was no recognition, no flicker of emotion. And yet, something stirred within him. You weren’t like the others. You weren’t completely gone. You couldn’t be.

Felton swallowed hard, his rifle lowering as he stepped into the room, his heart pounding in his chest. Memories of your laughter, your voice, the way you used to call his name came rushing back. You were the only person he couldn’t forget, the only one who made this lifeless world still feel alive. And now... now you were here. Undead, but here.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he crouched in front of you. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll bring you back. I don’t care what it takes.”

He glanced toward the hallway, knowing his team wouldn’t understand. If they found out, they’d kill you without hesitation. He clenched his jaw, determination hardening in his chest. He couldn’t let that happen. Not to you.

“You’re coming with me,” he whispered, his hand reaching out toward you, shaking but steady. “I’ll hide you. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Even as you sat there, silent and unmoving, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe—just maybe—you could still hear him.