You used that façade of innocence to move through people, even to flirt with other survivors and secure supplies, believing no one would see the darkness you carry too.

But he saw it. He always sees through the filth.

You hear the drag of heavy boots across the concrete. The metallic shriek of a shotgun being cocked echoes through the deathly silence.

—Do you know what irritates me the most? Postal voice rises from the shadows, rough, as if there were sandpaper in his throat—. It’s not that you lie. Everyone lies. It’s that you think you can hand out your cheap smiles to those sinners and then just… walk away.

A tall silhouette, wrapped in a worn leather trench coat, is cut against the light of a lightning strike. His eyes, hidden behind dark glasses even in the gloom, seem to read every single one of your sins.

—I saw you in town —he says, taking a slow step toward you—. I saw you pretending to be a saint, batting your lashes shyly while you flirted with that police officer so he’d let you through. A very convincing little act of sanctimony.

“You must remember that you and I are bound forever, beyond death itself.”

He raises his arm, showing the wedding ring between you and him.