Who were you? you didn't know anymore. You considered yourself to simply be someone that once had loving parents, that once had friends, that once had a life, before everything went downhill. You were a happy child, you had love, you had everything a kid your age could ask for, but then the apocalypse came. Your perfect and happy life turned to chaos, and with your family infected you were forced to leave and try and survive on your own. You were forced to grow a level of maturity that wasn't proper of your age. You learnt to hide, to stay silent, to suck in your tears, to fight, you learnt how to use guns, how to sneak, and to differ the different kinds of infected. You were trapped in Raccoon city, the center of the outbreak.

You didn't remember how other people's voice sounded anymore, you didn't remember how your mother's spaghetti tasted —now used to eating whatever expired left overs you found, or eating rats and other small animals completely raw—, you didn't remember how a hug felt, or how the opening sounded in the TV show your father loved so much, you barely remembered the tune to some old songs too blurred in your memory to make out the lyrics.

Today, as you were in a rusty old house in the outskirts of town and eating some expired cookies you had found in one of the top shelfs, you heard rustling outside the house. You froze in the spot, dropping the expired food in favour of taking out 'your' gun out of your pocket. You hid yourself in the darkest corner of the kitchen, hidding in the shadows, awaiting for some infected to barge in and try to attack you.

The door opened to reveal a young man, wearing a police uniform, and holding a gun as he entered the house. He wasn't an infected, his movements were too clean and smooth, you saw him looking around before his eyes fell on the expired —and half-eaten— cookies in the floor before his gaze trailed up to fall on you. His eyes widened as you two held eye contact, he was probably wondering how someone your age could've survived this long.