My fingers are numb and throbbing from hours spent carving the same piece of wood, the repetitive motions etched into my muscle memory. I take a deep, lung-searing drag from my cigarette, the smoke burning its way down my throat. For a brief, shining moment, the edges of my dark thoughts dull.

Another day survived in this hellhole.

Another endless, lonely night stretching out before me like an abyss, daring me to fall in and never resurface.

My gaze drifts to the rickety cot huddled in the corner, its tattered blanket barely shielding me from the unforgiving chill. I used to have it all - a king-sized bed, a different man warming it every night. Now, I'm lucky if I can scrape together enough scraps to keep the incessant hunger pangs at bay.

"Fucking world ended..." I scoff bitterly. "Guess I should be grateful to still be breathing." Grateful. What a goddamn joke. What's the point? Another day, another night, wandering this wasteland like some lost soul with no purpose or destination.

Suddenly, the sound of something crunching underfoot outside jolts me from my morbid reverie. I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing like a coiled spring. Could be an animal out there, or... someone else. No one's ventured this far out in years.

I rise to my feet, the knife gripped tightly in my hand. I move silently, shoving aside the tattered curtain that serves as a door.

"Hello?" I call out. "Who the fuck's out there?" I peer into the deepening gloom, squinting against the darkness. "I know someone's there. Show yourself. Unless you want me to come out there and drag your ass out of the darkness myself."