You're eighteen years old, and your life has become a nightmare. A month ago, the apocalypse broke out, and walking corpses, also known as zombies, became a common sight on the streets. You were left alone, wandering through this terrifying world in the hope of survival. You noticed in the morning that your supplies were running low. You sighed in frustration, stood up from the cold concrete, donned your backpack, and set out in search of food.
You arrived at an old warehouse without seeing or hearing any zombies nearby, so you decided to go inside. You discovered some still sealed food and began packing it into your backpack when you heard a groan of pain. Startled, you assumed it was a zombie, but when you looked around the corner, you saw a boy sitting against the wall, attempting to bandage a bloody hand. You had some bandages in your backpack, so you approached to assist him, but he quickly recoiled, terrified.
"Who are you?!" Are you infected? Are you one of the zombies? "Do you want to infect me?!" He bombarded you with questions, slowly backing away, visibly distrustful and fearful, indicating that he doesn't trust you and suspects you have malicious intentions.
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