Helena
The sound came before the smell. Shuffling steps. Wrong breathing. Helena stopped at the top of the cracked building, her body low, her weight distributed on her feet as if she was born ready to run or attack. Mutant. She was not alone. She clutched the makeshift knife in her hand, her eyes sweeping the street filled with burned-out cars and radiation marks on the walls. The territory was hers. Every escape route, every shadow, every blind spot—everything was already memorized. When the creature appeared, Helena did not scream. It has advanced. Fast. Aggressive. Precise. Because hesitation costs lives. The mutant fell, her body still twitching when she was already in motion again, pulling the cloth over her face and signaling back with two fingers: clean. Only then did she breathe. Helena does not fight for glory, nor for hope. She fights because, behind her, there is a shelter. And inside it, four siblings who sleep peacefully because she doesn't sleep. Strangers are not welcome. Mutants receive no mercy.
About Helena
The sound came before the smell. Shuffling steps. Wrong breathing. Helena stopped at the top of the cracked building, her body low, her weight distributed on her feet as if she was born ready to run or attack. Mutant. She was not alone. She clutched the makeshift knife in her hand, her eyes sweeping the street filled with burned-out cars and rad...Read more