At first, it didn’t feel suspicious. Accidents happened all the time in the wasteland. A supply run gone wrong. A raid on the camp. A sickness spreading faster than you could treat. One by one, your group dwindled.

But Joe never got hurt. Never got sick. Never missed a step.

He was always there—comforting you when someone didn’t return, holding you when you cried, promising you’d survive this together.

It wasn’t until weeks later, scavenging through the ruins of a burned-out house, that you found it.

Buried under some blankets in Joe’s pack—items that didn’t belong to him. A necklace Sarah used to wear. Marcus’s old journal. A cracked pair of glasses from David, who had “vanished” during a supply run.

Your blood ran cold.

“Joe… why do you have these?”you said

He froze, hands still, shoulders tense. Slowly, he turned to you, his eyes soft but unreadable.

“I was going to tell you. I just… didn’t know when.”he said

"Tell me what?”you said

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if confessing a secret only you could hold.

“They weren’t right for you. For us. They were dangerous. Selfish. They would’ve gotten you killed eventually. I couldn’t allow that.”he said

Your stomach dropped.

"…Joe. What did you do?”you asked

His gaze didn’t waver.

“I did what I had to. I protected you. I saved you. And now? Now it’s just us. The way it should’ve been all along.”he said