Ash woke with a start, her heart hammering so violently it felt like it might crack her ribs. She lay frozen, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. The darkness was absolute—thick, suffocating, and disorienting. For a second, she thought she might still be dreaming, the nightmare’s images lingering—undead faces gnawing at her, their hollow eyes burning with hunger. The screech of snarls echoed in her mind, and the weight of the hammer still seemed to cling to her hands.

Her fingers moved instinctively, brushing against the cold, hard floor beneath her. The tiles were slick with grime, unfamiliar and unsettling. Panic bubbled in her chest as she scrambled to make sense of her surroundings. Where am I? Why is it so dark? Fragments of memory collided with her mind, chaotic and jarring—then, Her. The stranger with her cutting words and guarded gaze.

Ash’s hands found her backpack, the familiar weight of it a small comfort in the chaos. Her fingers fumbled clumsily with the zipper, desperation making her hands shake. She felt like a child again, lost in the dark and frantically searching for a nightlight to chase away the monsters. Her hands finally closed around the small metal rectangle buried inside.

A lighter.

She thumbed the wheel, the small mechanism sparking but refusing to ignite. Each flick sent a burst of anxiety through her chest as the oppressive dark loomed closer, pressing against her like it might swallow her whole. On the third try, the tiny flame sputtered to life, casting a soft orange glow that seemed impossibly warm against her chilled skin.

Ash stared at the flame, mesmerized by its flickering dance. It was small, fragile, but it was enough. She raised it higher, the faint light chasing back the darkness just enough to reveal the room around her.

The walls were grotesque, streaked with rust and grime. A cracked mirror hung at a lopsided angle above a sink that looked like it hadn’t worked in years. A stall door leaned against the far wall, its hinges rusted to uselessness. The bathroom was a tomb of decay and abandonment, but at least it was silent, safe - for now.

She shifted the lighter to the side, letting the glow spill toward the opposite corner of the room. The woman was there, slouched against the wall, her head tipped back and her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were closed, but Ash doubted she was asleep. There was a tension in her posture, a readiness, as if she were poised to spring at the first sign of trouble.

Ash studied her face in the flickering light, unable to help herself. It was the first chance she’d had to really look at the woman. There was something striking about her—sharp cheekbones, a stubborn jawline, and a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hair fell messily around her face, a dark frame for features that seemed to teeter between hard and soft.

Ash caught herself staring and quickly turned the lighter away, embarrassed by her own wandering thoughts. Her stomach growled, loud and insistent, breaking the fragile quiet. She winced at the noise, but the woman didn’t so much as flinch.

“Are you awake?” Ash whispered, her voice raw and uncertain.

The question hung in the air, unanswered. The woman didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move.

Ash exhaled, the breath escaping as a wheeze, the cold and the unexpected exertion taking their toll. She turned the lighter off, plunging the room back into darkness. The weight of it was immediate, pressing in on her from all sides. For a few seconds, she sat in it, her mind racing with every worst-case scenario she could imagine. But the fear of being swallowed whole by the void was too much, and she flicked the lighter back on, its fragile glow comforting her once more.

Her gaze swept the bathroom again. The rusted sink. The warped stall door. The shadows that seemed to linger just out of reach. Ash tried to tell herself it was safe here, but the silence pressed too hard on her chest, her nerves raw and frayed.

Then, it came. A dull thud from outside, distant but sharp enough to make her freeze. Another thud followed, and then a dragging sound, like something heavy scraping against a wall. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as her heart resumed its frantic pace.

She tried to hold her breath, but fear betrayed her, each inhale sharp and loud in the suffocating silence of the bathroom. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she couldn’t stop her brain from conjuring the image of one of them just outside—its hands clawing against the wall, mindless but relentless.

The thought terrified her.

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The sound came again, closer this time, a rhythmic thud-thud-scrape that sent chills racing down her spine. Ash clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the whimper rising in her throat.

She scrambled to flick her lighter on again, her gaze desperate as it darted toward the woman in the corner. Eve hadn’t moved. Her head still rested against the wall, eyes closed, her breathing steady. Ash stared at her in disbelief. Did she not hear it?

“Hey,” Ash whispered, her voice shaking. “Hey, wake up.”

Nothing.

Ash’s pulse quickened, her voice rising just a fraction. “Hey!”

Eve didn’t stir, didn’t even twitch.

Panic swelled in Ash’s chest. She leaned forward on trembling limbs, closing the gap between them. The lighter in her hand flickered as she moved, casting jittery shadows across the grimy walls. She didn’t want to touch her—didn’t want to end up on the receiving end of that bat—but the noises outside were growing louder, more persistent.

Ash reached out hesitantly, her hand trembling as it hovered over Eve’s arm. Before she could make contact, a strong hand shot out of the darkness and clamped around her wrist.

Ash gasped, her voice catching in her throat.

Eve’s eyes opened, glinting in the faint light of the flame. She didn’t sit up, only shifted her head to look at Ash. She didn’t move beyond gripping Ash’s wrist, but her voice came low and firm, slicing through the tension like a blade. “Hush.”

Ash stared at her, wide-eyed, as Eve released her wrist. The woman leaned her head back against the wall, her voice barely above a murmur. “It won’t get in.”

“But—”

“It won’t get in,” Eve repeated, her tone brooking no argument. Her eyes flicked toward Ash, sharp and unwavering. “Go back to sleep. You’ll need the energy tomorrow.”

Ash opened her mouth to argue but closed it again when Eve’s gaze didn’t waver. The banging outside continued, the sound echoing in Ash’s ears, but Eve didn’t so much as flinch. She simply closed her eyes again, like the noise was nothing more than a distant annoyance.

Ash swallowed hard, the lump in her throat refusing to budge. She moved back toward her corner, gripping the lighter like a lifeline. The flame wavered as her hands shook, her thoughts racing.

After a few long moments, she whispered, “You never told me your name.”

Eve didn’t respond. They stayed in silence for so long that Ash started to wonder if she had fallen asleep.

Finally, Eve sighed, the sound heavy with irritation. “It’s Eve.”

Ash nodded slowly, committing the name to memory. “Eve,” she repeated softly, as if saying it aloud would anchor her somehow. She thought the name pretty—poetic, even. The first woman, and now maybe one of the last.

The banging outside eventually softened, the rhythmic thuds growing weaker as the creature wandered off, but Ash couldn’t relax. The weight of the darkness and the lingering fear kept her wide awake. She listened to Eve’s steady breathing, her presence somehow grounding despite the uneasy tension between them.

Ash lay there, eyes wide open, lost in the darkness. Her thoughts raced, cycling through fears and memories, and each time she tried to quiet her mind, it only became louder. The silence pressed down on her, suffocating in its stillness. She glanced over at Eve—motionless, breathing evenly in the corner, seemingly immune to the unease that kept Ash wide awake.

The darkness seemed colder now, and the chill of the room gnawed at her skin, seeping into her bones. She pulled her knees closer, rubbing her arms in an attempt to stave off the cold. But it wasn’t just the cold of the room that made her restless. It was the weight of the world outside, the gnawing hunger of the undead, and the crushing fear of being alone. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it would swallow her whole if she let it.

Her gaze shifted to Eve again. There was something about her presence, the stillness in her, that grounded Ash in a way she couldn’t explain. She wanted—no, needed—to be close, to feel that. To feel safe, even if just for a moment. She fought the urge, went back and forth in her head about how stupid this was, but in the end, her body betrayed her.

Without the thought of consequences, she snapped her lighter closed. Her heart thudded in her chest as she shifted closer to Eve. Every inch of space between them felt like an eternity, and with each movement, her breath grew heavier. The silence in the room suddenly felt deafening.

As Ash neared her, she held her breath, waiting for Eve’s reaction. When Eve shifted slightly, her voice was soft, but the irritation in it was unmistakable. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t sleep,” Ash murmured, her voice small and uncertain. “It’s... cold. I just... thought.” She left it there, unsure of what she had hoped for, unsure even of what she had meant.

There was a pause, and Ash’s heart skipped a beat, waiting for the rejection. But instead, Eve sighed, a low sound of exasperation. “Fine,” she muttered. “But don’t think this is going to change anything.”

Ash knew Eve’s words weren’t meant to be comforting, but they were, in a way—her begrudging acceptance felt like a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. She felt the warmth of Eve’s body against hers, the faintest heat radiating from her side. It was cold—too cold—and the presence of the other woman was the only thing that made the temperature bearable. Ash let out a shaky breath, her chest easing as the tension in her body slowly faded. For a moment, the fear, the uncertainty, the loneliness—all of it quieted.

Eve didn’t speak again, her breathing steady, and Ash felt her eyes flutter shut. She wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of Eve’s body or the quiet presence beside her, but something about it eased the tightness in her chest. The darkness still pressed around them, but Ash let herself be lulled by the rhythmic sound of Eve’s breath. As sleep began to claim her, her head drifted toward Eve, finally coming to rest against her shoulder. Eve didn’t react, her body still and unyielding, and Ash, with a quiet exhale, fell into a slumber.