No Matter What... | The Last of Us | Joel Miller x Oc

Chapter 1: The Trace

I see my sister again. For some reason I feel like I haven't seen her in a while, but I know it is not true. We live together.

I see her hands tighten on the grip of the metal baseball bat that father loves so much. He loves baseball in general and hasn't stopped talking about how he'd like to have a son to play with in the backyard - even though he and mother are probably already too old for another child.

I see how the tears wash clean stripes on my sister's dirty face as she raises the bat high above her head. She seems just like a real professional player in the middle of a match - where the players dress into their pajamas... Though I know she hates baseball. She never told it to dad, as she hasn't wanted to hurt his feelings. She is exactly as nice as mother.

Always trying to protect me as well, just like mother.

When she swings the baseball bat, she lets out a terrified scream, her face also distorts into a painful grin as she bashes the skull of our dad...

I feel his warm blood squirt on my face and I can feel my body shaking as I look right at his brain, through his broken skull...

And then I finally wake up. My whole body is trembling and my sheets and blanket are all wet because of my sweat... I look at the old alarm clock sitting on the nightstand beside my bed. It is almost past ten o' clock, am. I tiredly sit up, putting my bare feet on the cold ground as I bury my face into my sweaty palms, massaging my eyes and forehead.

It has been 10 years already since the outbreak, and I have been dreaming about that night, every single time I fall asleep. I was only sixteen and my sister was 25. So much time has passed...

I feel the cold climbing up my body through my feet and shivers run along my spine. It is the end of September already. The mornings and evenings are both equally chilly now and though the weather is nice throughout the days, the Sun isn't strong enough anymore to keep the grounds warm.

As I stand up, my old, worn out bed squeaks painfully. I live in Anderson Mill, Texas, in a quarantine zone, near Austin. It was quite comfortable for a while here - nice houses with gardens where people could (and also had to) produce for themselves and the community.

Of course, we had to do chores here as well - just like in every other refugee camp - but those, stuck in the bigger cities, in the old and dirty apartments with many floors had to do the same.

Sadly, and eventually, all things come to an end. Nowadays, the so-called group of Hunters took over Austin, just a few miles from here and people in Anderson Mill feel the constant threat, rising and thickening above their heads just like the rain clouds before a very bad storm...

I am not planning on staying here for much longer though. I need to find my sister. Our last conversation wasn't something I'd like to remember as, you know, well, the last. I have to find her to sort things out. People in this world don't usually live up to an old age and those who still have a family - real, and not chosen - are considered lucky.

Way more than half the world died ten years ago and so many big families became a single person group...

First, I pull on my socks I have already been wearing for way too many days now. But I guess in the apocalypse I am not the only one who wears a pair of socks for more than a day, amirite? Then comes my old pair of worn out jeans, my boots, a sweater and my suede jacket.

Everything is either black or brown colored since I go out into the woods often and my clothes need to hide me - definitely not from clickers though. I go for hunting mainly but I sometimes meet up some smuggler friends of mine to exchange a thing or two...