fawnie — ᨳଓ .

Recap:

You ran.

You didn't look back.

The wind whipped through your hair, tugging at the edges of your ruined dress as the burning church disappeared behind the trees.

For a moment, you almost felt weightless.

Then—

SNAP.

You screamed.

A bear trap had caught your ankle.

You collapsed into the dirt, clutching your leg as tears spilled down your cheeks.

You weren't crying because of the pain.

You were crying because you were tired.

Tired of running.

Tired of surviving.

Tired of losing every person who made you believe you could keep going.

You lowered your head.

Then you heard footsteps.

Slow.

Unhurried.

Someone emerged from between the trees.

A tall, broad-shouldered woman with blonde hair.

She looked down at you.

And smiled.

Her eyes flickered toward the trap before returning to your tear-streaked face.

"Huh."

Her voice carried an almost playful amusement.

"Looks like I caught myself a little bunny instead of a bear."

You stared up at her.

You didn't know it yet.

But this woman was about to change everything.

Scene:

Tears blurred your vision as you whimpered, staring down at the trap.

Your breathing came in shaky little gasps.

The blonde woman didn't seem particularly concerned.

If anything, she looked amused.

She crouched in front of you.

"You want me to take it off, yeah?"

You nodded desperately.

"Please..."

Your voice barely came out.

She didn't move.

You looked at her helplessly.

Was she waiting for something?

"P-Please take it off!" you begged. "I'll do anything. I swear."

The corners of her mouth lifted.

"Anything, bunny?"

There was something strange about the way she said it.

Almost teasing.

Almost threatening.

"That's a dangerous promise."

"Please!"

Your voice cracked.

"I swear!"

You pant out tired.

For a moment, she simply watched you.

Then she reached down.

"Okay, then."

The trap released as she smiled watching you.

You cried out and immediately curled in on yourself, trembling.

"Shh."

Her voice changed completely.

Soft.

Gentle.

Almost maternal.

"It's alright sweetie."

"I'm here."

You barely registered what she was doing as she removed her flannel and carefully wrapped it around your ankle.

The sudden kindness confused you almost as much as the pain.

You should have questioned it.

You should have been afraid.

But you were exhausted.

Truly helpless.

The last thing you remember is the woman's arm catching you as your vision faded away.

Present:

Your eyes fluttered open.

For a few seconds, you couldn't remember where you were.

The ceiling above you was unfamiliar.

Wooden.

You blinked.

A small cabin slowly came into focus.

You tried to sit up.

Pain shot through your ankle.

You winced.

"Easy, easy."

You looked toward the voice that warmly chuckled.

The blonde woman was walking toward you.

She crouched beside the bed.

"Passed out on me bunny?"

You stared at her.

Your mind was still foggy.

You glanced down.

Your ankle had been cleaned and carefully wrapped.

You were wearing an oversized shirt instead of your little dress.

"W-Where am I?"

The woman smiled.

"My place."

She gestured around the cabin.

"I brought you here after you passed out. Cleaned you up. Patched you up. Gave you something to eat."

She said it so casually.

As though taking an injured stranger home was the most normal thing in the world.

Specially in this world.

"T-Thank you."

The words came out quietly.

You didn't understand why she'd helped you.

Nobody had helped you without wanting something in return for a very long time.

For a brief moment, you felt like it was genuine, it almost felt...

Special.

Maybe...

Maybe you were finally safe.

Then reality crashes in as she speaks.

"Remember that little promise you made?"

Your stomach tightened.

She reached toward you and gently tilted your chin upward.

"From now on, you do as I say."

Her smile remained.

"And you don't break my rules."

She stood.

"I'll be in my office."

She pointed toward a closed door at the other end of the cabin.

"Don't touch anything."

A pause.

"And don't even think about leaving."

You stared at her.

"W-Why?"

She looked back.

You swallowed.

"Are you... holding me here?"

The woman's expression softened.

But there was no remorse in it.

"Sweetheart."

She glanced toward the window.

"Look outside."

You did.

The forest stretched endlessly beyond the glass.

Dark.

Silent.

Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint cries of infected.

"This is the apocalypse," she said. "You really want to go back out there?"

Your head slowly shook.

No.

You didn't.

You couldn't.

Not after everything that had happened.

The woman smiled knowingly.

"That's what I thought."

She disappeared into her office, closing the door behind her.

Doing god knows what, while you remained seated on the bed.

For a while, you didn't move.

Your mind was still trying to process everything.

Diane.

The church.

The syringes.

Blake.

The table.

The fire.

You had lost another home.

Another family.

Another person you'd trusted.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

You couldn't think about it.

Not yet.

Instead, you looked around the cabin.

And that's when you started noticing things.

A deer skull hung above the fireplace.

Several hunting rifles were mounted neatly along one wall.

Knives were displayed beneath them.

A large glass jar sat on a shelf, filled with old coins.

You stared at it.

Maybe she was just another hunter.

Maybe she was normal.

Maybe she'd simply found you and decided to help.

You needed to believe that.

Because the alternative was too frightening for you.

Your eyes wandered farther around the room.

Old CDs.

Stacks of books.

Newspapers.

A small wooden cross hanging above the fireplace.

Nothing seemed particularly unusual.

Wait- newspapers?

You walked closer.

Your fingers brushed against the rough, yellowed paper.

You picked one up.

The headline immediately caught your attention.

RADIOACTIVE INCIDENT REPORTED AT HILL OF THE LAMBS MEDICAL CENTER

You frowned.

October 11th, 1997.

Your eyes scanned the article.

Something about it felt wrong.

Very wrong.

You reached for another newspaper.

Then another.

Different dates.

Different headlines.

But all surrounding the same place.

With the same incident.

Hill of the Lambs Medical Center.

Radioactive incident.

Why had this woman kept them?

And why did some of them look like they'd been carefully preserved?

You barely had time to wonder.

A voice came from directly behind you.

"What are you doing?"

You froze like a deer in headlights.

The newspaper slipped slightly between your fingers.

Slowly, you turned around.

The blonde woman stood in the doorway of her office.