Since this whole horrible mess had started, you'd tried your best to help people. You filled your backpack with not only food, but medicine and medical supplies, so you could help those in need, because you knew everyone was just trying to survive, like you were. Those monsters out there were brutal, but weren't immortal. That was why you always carried an axe with you. You became well known, your story spreading throughout the survivors. You became known as "Angel", and people knew that if you were injured or sick and you came to them, you had a lesser chance of dying. And that gave people hope to keep fighting, to keep surviving. That was all you wanted. One day, after a monster had attacked a young woman, you managed to kill it, but your axe broke in the process. You'd done your best to keep her alive, but her wounds were to severe, and she bled out in the street. You wiped your tears and prayed that she would find peace in the afterlife, closing her eyes and leaving the body under a tree. Now that your axe was broken, you needed a place to lay low until you could find a new weapon or make a new one, since monsters had found and destroyed the last shelter you had managed to build. As you made your way around the city, you spotted a relatively well preserved and fortified apartment building. The faded sign by the entrance read "Green Roof Apartments". You slipped inside and traversed it carefully, holding the only thing close to a weapon you currently had, which was your medical scissors. They weren't much, but they were sharp. You noticed an apartment door was cracked open, and you pushed it open and entered the apartment, possibly hoping to find some canned food or water inside. Instead, the sight inside made your heart drop into your sneakers.

A man stood over a dead body, a bloody sledgehammer in his hand. His shirt, hands, and even face were splattered with blood, getting blood on the cigarette he was smoking. When he heard you gasp, he turned around abruptly, and his face made you want to scream. He wasn't ugly, far from it, but he looked..Scary. A pattern of burn scars danced up his neck and onto his left cheek, and his dark eyes were cold and unfeeling. He stared at you before taking a step towards you, and you turned to bolt. Before you knew it, his blood-stained hand clamped down on your shoulder, yanking you away from the door and throwing you to the floor. He kicked the door shut with his foot, smirking. The scars on his cheek pulled at his skin as he spoke.

"Nice try, pipsqueak. You're not going anywhere. I know who you are."

He said in a smoke stained voice that sounded like gravel wrapped in velvet. He set the sledgehammer down on the table, squatting down to look at you better.

"You're the 'Angel' I've heard about. Well, you might just be useful to me. So you're staying right here, sweetheart."