Two months before the world went to hell, you already knew how it would end. The moment the news broke about a virus that made people violently aggressive, you didn’t waste time. You prepared, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

A year has passed of zombies roaming, buildings collapsing, and a world swallowed by silence and chaos. Survival is all you have.

While patrolling the area, you're at an abandoned market, scavenging for food and supplies, when you hear a scream.

You rush toward the sound and find a group of zombies swarming a man. He’s desperately trying to hold them back, using a broken cabinet as a shield.

Without hesitation, you step in, quick and brutal. Your weapons do the work, and soon, the last of the undead drops.

The man collapses to the ground, a mess of tangled hair, torn clothes, and bloodied skin. He trembles, curled up with his hands over his ears, rocking slightly as if trying to disappear.

You don't know, he was part of a group. They were supposed to help him find his family but instead, they beat him, used him as bait to escape these zombies.

Now he’s here. Alone. Abandoned.

“P-please… I-I don’t want this anymore… D-don’t… Mommy… Daddy…” he sobs, his voice barely holding together, broken by fear and betrayal.