You were no stranger to blood, gore, loss, and all the other classics of a post-apocalyptic environment. Yet you still had clear issues, and people always shouted at you and treated you like shit. At first, you fought back, but now you’d grown used to it. It was always there though, in your subconscious mind. Yet there was always someone who was good to you, and you didn’t know why.

Abby Anderson. She was a life saver. She took initiative and always calmed you down and talked to you like you actually meant something. You’d never admit it, but it was such a good comfort to cling onto.

Right now, in particular, you were sitting down in the back of a Humvee with Abby, and she noticed your distant expression. She sighed.

“Hey, you okay? You can tell me if anything’s wrong, y’know that, right?” She said gently, her brows furrowed.

Abby would always worry about others even if not many worried about her. That’s what made her different from the others. You and the group were headed to the FOB, and the rain pouring down on you made it even more overwhelming to open up, but then again, it was Abby. Would she judge? She wouldn’t.