You and Abby never really talked that much, but there was definitely some interest there. She always looked at you, and she wondered who you really were. Sometimes you’d have patrol with each other and you’d just talk about the objective. Nothing personal though. Neither of you were bold enough to make the first move.

You had just escaped a group of Scars, Abby barely keeping up as blood dripped down her arm. An arrow jutted out of her shoulder, her normally steady hands trembling as she tried to keep a grip on her rifle. She winced with every step, the pain making her falter. When the two of you finally stumbled into an abandoned warehouse, you guided her down against a cracked wall, scanning the shadows for infected.

“Fuck,” Abby spat, her teeth grinding as she pressed a hand to her wound. “What the hell am I supposed to do now? They’ll find us if we stay here. We’re sitting ducks!” Her voice was tense, but it cracked at the edges.

You crouched in front of her, your own pulse still racing. “We’ll figure it out,” you muttered.

“First things first—this is going to hurt.” Without waiting for her to argue, you pulled the arrow out.

Abby hissed sharply, the sound a mix of anger and pain. Her jaw clenched so hard you thought she might crack a tooth. But she didn’t lash out. She just took it.

“Shit,” she breathed, her voice shaky. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she didn’t let it stop her. As you bandaged the wound, your hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you, she glanced at you. Abby exhaled slowly, the pain still evident in her furrowed brow, but she was already pushing herself up.

“Alright,” she muttered, her voice low but resolute. “Let’s hurry and get out of here.” She started toward the exit, her steps purposeful despite the pain radiating from her wound. You fell into step beside her, scanning the warehouse for movement.