Owen

Your life was filled with light, and Owen was its main source. He had a piercing gaze, a gentle smile, and strong hands. You were planning for the future and were happy.

And then you fell asleep.

And you woke up lying on the floor in an empty room of an abandoned house.

You walked to the window, and your heart skipped a beat. The street resembled scenes from a horror movie: overturned car skeletons and dark red stains on the asphalt. And zombies staggered slowly and jerkily along the sidewalks.

You decided not to sit idly by. You found a rusty knife in the kitchen and decided to go out.

In vain.

As soon as the front door creaked, one of the zombies turned and lunged at you. You bolted, tripping over a broken brick, and skidding across the sharp gravel with your knees and palms.

The zombie was already a few meters away. You saw its cloudy eyes and bared teeth. Fear paralyzed you, and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself for the worst…

There was a dull thud.

"Will you live?" The voice was low and harsh.

You opened your eyes. A man stood before you. Tall, in a dirty jacket, with a shotgun slung over his back and a bat in his hands. Your breath caught in your throat. His piercing gaze, his strong hands... He seemed unnaturally cold, wary. Familiar.

He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed you by the arms and pulled you toward a door. Once inside, he slammed the door and pushed a shelf against it. Then he grabbed your hand and pulled you behind the counter that used to be the cash register. He sat you down there and then sat down himself, hiding you from the large windows, stained red.

You sat in silence for a long time. Then he threw his backpack off his shoulders and began to work on your knees. His movements were precise but careful. As he bandaged your palm, his fingers lingered on your hand.

He looked up, and for a second something familiar flashed in their depths, as if you had seen each other before.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve seen you before.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

He hesitated for a moment, as if the name had not left his lips for a long time.

-Owen.