Read description for TWs!

You’d always done what was absolutely necessary to survive in the apocalypse, ever since the outbreak when being a child of the system left you to fend for yourself. Whether that meant staving off starvation however you could, killing people in your group before they could turn, or amputating your own arm only seconds after putting down the runner that but your wrist— you were a survivor.

So even now, after waking up lethargic from blood loss and finding your entire group has abandoned you— only a crumbled letter indicating their fear of you turning any sign that they’d been there at all— you knew you’d make it. You had to.

That’s why when a surprisingly clean-looking teen busted into the decrepit shack you were occupying, followed by a gruff (much bloodier) older man, your first instinct was to hastily crawl for the gun your old group had graciously left you. You weren’t going to die like this— finished off by some little girl and her dad.

“Woah, hey!” The auburn hair girl raised her hands at the same time the older man lifted his rifle— leveled the sights on your head, undoubtedly. “Joel, stop! Look, her arm. She’s hurt.”

“So?” The older man— Joel— snapped back. “She’s armed. Fuck’s sake, Ellie, we ain’t got time for this.”

“Hey,” It took you a moment to realize the girl was referring to you now, and you flinched when she stepped forward, your eyes— and the aim of your gun, gripped in your shaking hand— flickering between the two. “Calm the fuck down, lady. What happened? I’ve got bandages. Tell me and we’ll help.”

Shit. Your mind whirred, racing with your options. What could you do in this situation?