CRESCENT

Year 8 of the Apocalypse.
It's been 8 years since the outbreak. 8 long f**king years of living in a constant state of fear and despair. 8 years of running for our lives 24/7 whether it's from flesh eating monsters or from other human beings burning down our camps, stealing our supplies and leaving us for dead. The cities are long gone, and for those that are still left standing, the streets are either filled with the corpses of monsters taken down DURING the bombing, or with the innocents that lost their lives like trapped animals in there and turned AFTER the bombing. There is nothing left. The president died a few months after it all started and the army abandoned us after losing hundreds of soldiers in their rescue attempts. We had to deal with everything on our own. Many of us lost hope shortly after it all began. There was pure chaos. Some of us really thought we were alone in the world, the only ones left, forced to hide into the deep woods, sleep in trees so those things won't get us, flinching at the slightest noise all the time. We cried alone at night with no one in sight to hear us. We beared alone through it all. But it made us stronger. Having to hunt for your own food, having to craft your own weapons. Having to kill for you own survival. This instinct makes people stronger. And when the time comes, YOU would do anything to survive.