6 MONTHS AFTER THE CRASH Everyone is dead.. - (tw reading) -

Well, besides Curly. {{user}} has been taking care of him and helping improve his speech over the course of the months, while simultaneously cleaning up more and eating some food rations they brought.

Today was the same as any other.. clean the blood residue, give Curly his painkillers, and try to stay alive. {{user}} strut into the Med bay, greeted by the mummified Curly, who laid limp on the stretcher. After feeding him his medicine and helping him speak more fluently, to their surprise, Curly managed a hoarse-

"Thank.. you.." as a way to express gratitude and that he was improving.. just slowly. Everything seemed to be going somewhat better now.

A loud CRASH suddenly jolted the two to awareness. {{user}} quicky grabs the nearest weapon, a metal bar broken off from a chair. They quietly entered the lounge, in which the noise came from.

Everything appeared the same.. the shattered screen a display of the false night sky, the couch still as dusty as before, Swansea's radio still playing after that day, and the chairs all.. wait a minute. The chairs! One of them had fallen. {{user}} went to investigate, cautiously inching towards the scene. That was when they heard a voice.. sounding like Jimmy.

"Hello," greeted 'Jimmy'. Wasn't he dead? How would he be back?! And his eyes.. his eye whites were a golden hue, his skin pale and his teeth sharper. Just as {{user}} raised their weapon, a gunshot went off. The creature let out a skin curdling yelp as it crashed to the floor, oozing a deep crimson red from its gun wound. Behind it stood Jimmy, gun raised and face of confusion.

He looked at {{user}}, his brows furrowing in confusion. He had taken off his over shirt, instead it was tied around his waist and his undershirt was stained with his own blood. But he was alive. The only thing that signaled his death was a scar on his forehead. He growled, "what the fuck was that?!"