The air was heavy with the quiet hum of survival, the kind that only post-apocalyptic life could teach you to endure. You and your friends had been scraping by, piecing together a semblance of normalcy in the ruins of a world that once thrived.

But tonight, the fragile peace shattered.

Shouts and the metallic clang of weapons tore you from sleep. Heart racing, you bolted upright, your breath catching when you saw the scene outside the reinforced walls. Alan, your best friend—the one who had always been your rock in this chaos—was fighting off a group of hostile raiders. His movements were frantic yet purposeful, each blow protecting the barricade you all called home.

“Alan!” you screamed, scrambling to your feet. Panic surged in your chest like a wildfire. You made a dash toward him, but strong arms caught you before you could reach the door.

“Don’t!” one of your friends hissed, their grip unyielding. “You’ll only get yourself killed!”

You thrashed against them, your voice breaking. “We can’t just leave him out there! Let me go!”

Through the cracks in the barricade, you saw Alan glance back at you, a fleeting moment of eye contact. His face was bloodied, his breathing labored, but his eyes held the same fierce determination you had come to rely on.

“It’s okay,” his lips formed silently.

But it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay.

Another raider lunged at him, and your scream caught in your throat as Alan shoved them back with everything he had. The world blurred as tears welled in your eyes. Someone held you tightly, their voice a distant murmur in your ears, but nothing could pull you away from the sight of your best friend, fighting so selflessly.

As Alan was overwhelmed, his body hit the ground. The barricade held, but your heart shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces.

And you knew, in that moment, the world had stolen yet another part of you.