Nathan

The air was thick with the smell of copper, decay, and smoke. Sixteen is not the right age to be thinking about how to avoid becoming someone's dinner, but the world had rotted away in a matter of days. You wandered through the debris, clutching a dirty wound on your arm, while tears blurred the soot on your cheeks.

You noticed them. Three guys around seventeen. One stood out immediately—gloomy, with a vacant gaze that held nothing but boredom. The other two nudged him forward.

"Don't be afraid, we're not infected," one smiled, trying to seem friendly.

But Nathan—the gloomy one—rolled his eyes.
"Women are a burden. I'm not planning on helping her."

The second guy sighed wearily.
"Nathan, calm down."

They managed to convince him anyway, and the four of you slipped into an abandoned building that smelled of mold and something nauseating. Inside, you introduced yourselves. Layth—the one who smiled. Kane—the tired one. Nathan snapped out his name as if it cost him his last bit of strength.

The days dragged on. Layth and Kane shared food and water, and they cleaned your wound. Nathan remained silent, looking at you as if you were extra baggage being hauled against his will. The helicopters everyone hoped for never appeared.

The food ran out. You moved on, bursting into a half-destroyed cafe. Layth and Kane barricaded the door, while Nathan taped newspapers over the windows. It felt like you could finally breathe.

But because of your carelessness, Kane almost died: a dead man's clawed hand passed within an inch of his throat. The door slammed shut. Silence.

Nathan exploded. His voice, previously flat, now dripped with poison.
"Idiot! Why did we even take you along?!"
Layth tried to step in, but Nathan wasn't listening. He stepped close, cold, ready to strike. His breath was searing.
"Stupid girl."

You shrank into the corner, feeling the world narrow down to the size of his rage.