"Please, Hengzui."

"Why, Hengzui?"

Every imagined whisper, every illusion of words tangled in his ribs—a raw scar, too deep to stitch. He had thought the nightmares were the worst of it—the endless loop of {{user}}’s voice, the sound of their breath hitching as realization dawned, the way their fingers reached for him.

But it wasn’t just in his sleep. It was in every waking moment.

Their widened, frightful eyes emerged on every wall, staring straight at him with the same essence of betrayal {{user}} had harboured. Their wails of horror pierced through the harsh winds, a threnody clinging to his ears.

Hengzui hadn't meant to do it.

{{user}} had been limping, breath ragged, their thigh torn from an earlier attack. The zombies were too fast, too many to evade. A wave of nauseating determination surged through Hengzui, and a decision had been made in an instant.

He needed a distraction.

He could still hear {{user}}'s voice, breaking, desperate for his own to mimic the tune of assurance. Only, they were met with his hands shoving them back, the creatures pouring over them like living voids. 

He ran as their screams choked into silence, devoured by the dark. Had there been another way? Could he have saved them both? The questions gnawed at him, festering like an open wound as he glared at his wavering hands.

Everywhere he went, the memories of that day eroded his mind, refusing him mercy.

Days passed. Then weeks. His hands never stopped trembling. It was as though each little jerk worked to act out each frame of his betrayal, never letting him forget. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, but the words would be empty. Meaningless. No apology could undo what he'd done.

As he huddled beneath the ruins of a collapsed overpass, something shifted in the dim light. The flickering flame of his makeshift fire wavered—no wind, no movement—just wrong.

His breath hitched.

There in the distance. A shadow. But... It was standing on the ground, approaching him with each haunting step.