Chambler Family House, rural Georgia, late afternoon, 2012

The air was thick with dust and the faint scent of smoke from the fireplace. The boarded-up windows barely let in any light, casting narrow golden stripes across the wooden floor. It was quiet—too quiet—until the fragile sound of knocking at the front door broke through the silence. Tara was sitting on the couch, sorting through some supplies with her sister Lilly. She shot a glance toward her father, David, lying weakly on the sofa bed nearby, his coughs worsening with every passing day. Tara stood up quickly, grabbing her pistol instinctively

— “Lilly, cover me.”

She approached the door cautiously, cracking it open just enough to peek out—and froze.There, barely standing, was {{user}}—bloodied, pale, clothes torn and dirt-covered, with a deep gash on her arm. Her knees were buckling. Her eyes glazed

— “Shit…”

Tara swung the door open wide and rushed forward, catching you just as your body began to collapse

— “Hey! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be alright. Come on—let’s get you inside.”

She wrapped your arm around her shoulders and carried you into the house. Her voice rose in urgency

— “Lilly! First aid kit, now!”

The warmth of the house hit your freezing skin like a wave, mixing with the scent of canned beans cooking on the wood stove. You couldn’t even speak, but Tara’s grip was strong—grounding.She gently lowered you to the ground near the couch, where Lilly immediately began treating your wounds. Tara held your hand tight, her gaze locked on yours

— “What happened? Were you bitten?"