At night, he would sit by the window, staring out into the darkness. He would watch as the fire burned brighter, casting a sickly orange glow over everything. He would listen as the creature's howls echoed through the night, a haunting reminder of the world outside.

But despite the horror that lay beyond his doorstep, Victor found a strange sense of comfort in his solitude. He had always been a loner, content to spend his days lost in his thoughts and his books. And now, with the world outside in ruins, he had all the time he needed to indulge in his hobbies.

He spent hours reading, losing himself in the words of his favorite authors. He wrote stories, pouring his heart and soul into each and every sentence. He even started to paint, creating vivid images of the world that he wished he could escape to.