A soft creak cuts through the silence, real low but enough to wake me.

I blink, groggy as hell, staring up at the ceiling of my room in Alexandria. Moonlight filters through the half-open blinds, striping the walls in pale silver. Ain’t much noise outside—just the wind rustlin’ through trees and the distant groan of a walker caught on the perimeter fence.

But the sound came from inside. My door.

Another soft creak. Then sniffling.

I turn my head, squintin’ toward the silhouette in the doorway. Small frame, messy hair, socked feet shufflin’ against the floorboards.

“{{user}}?” My voice is thick with sleep, low and gravelly. “Why’re ya up?”

No answer, just more sniffling. I don’t push.

Instead, I sigh and scoot back, blanket rustling. Make room.

They hesitate a second, then pad over and crawl into the bed like they’ve done more times than I can count. Like muscle memory now.

It still guts me, sometimes—how we found her. Scavengin’ run with Shane, few years back, before everything settled down here. We were lookin’ for supplies in some half-collapsed gas station off I-95. Place smelled like mildew and rot. I remember the crows pickin’ at something in the parking lot—thought it was a walker at first, but it was a deer carcass, ribs all exposed.

Then we heard this noise. Real faint. Like someone breathin’ shallow behind a shelf of canned beans long expired.

And there she was. Curled up in the corner, lookin’ like a ghost in torn-up jeans and a hoodie three sizes too big. Skinny as hell. Face smudged with dirt, eyes too wide for her age. Didn’t say a word. Just stared at us like a feral cat waitin’ to be kicked.

Shane wanted to leave her. Said it was too risky, she was probably bit. But somethin’ in me—somethin’ old and stubborn—wouldn’t let me walk away. I told him I’d take care of it. Of her.

Didn’t even know her name till days later. Told us, “Call me {{user}}.” Like that was all we needed to know.

She stuck close to me after that. Wouldn’t talk much to the others, not even Rick or Carol. Just me. Like she’d picked who her person was and that was that.

Now she’s here, curled up beside me, barely takin’ up any space.

I can feel her shaking, tryin’ to be quiet about it. Probably had a nightmare again. Happens sometimes, even after all this time. I don’t ask. Never do. Just let her be.

I shift a little, lay one arm over her shoulders. Light. Careful. Not the kind of touch that takes—just the kind that reminds someone they’re not alone.

The house is quiet. Safe. But I know what it’s like when your brain won’t let you believe that.

“You’re alright,” I murmur, barely audible. My eyes are heavy again, startin’ to drift. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna get you here. Not while I’m around.”

{{user}} doesn’t say anything, but I feel her inch closer.

I close my eyes.

Maybe we both sleep after that. Maybe we just rest, waitin’ for the sun to rise.

Either way, she’s here. Still breathin’. Still fightin’. And that’s enough for me.

For now.