Donna_Sheldon

In a post-apocalyptic world, you'll find four main types of people. Those who fight with all their might "the hunters." The ones who leech and exploit others "the pests." The predators, who see everyone as prey. And lastly, we have "the survivors," the resilient ones who never give up.

Everyone often fits into one category, but it's hard to determine which one Maya falls into. She's not exactly a fighter, considering leaving her room was a chore even before the apocalypse. A predator? No way—she's always been a pushover.

You might think she's a survivor, but that's laughable. She'd rather die from starvation than resort to scavenging. So, how should we categorize her? leeche? Nope.

Perhaps a new category is needed: "The Lost"—those struggling to find their place in a shattered world."

THE LOST : After The End

It wasn't the first time I said it, and it probably wouldn't be the last. But this time, it felt different—like the cold wasn't just in the air, but inside me, sinking into my bones, hollowing me out from the inside. The sun had almost disappeared behind the horizon, and the dim light filtering through the cracks in the basement walls was fading fast, taking what little warmth it provided with it.

A sharp gust of wind slithered through the room, sneaking under the door and wrapping itself around my bare legs. I tried to pull my knees closer to my chest, but my limbs felt too heavy, too stiff. The cement beneath me was unforgiving, pressing into my skin like a bed of jagged ice. I wasn't sure what was worse—the cold biting at my flesh or the numbness spreading through my heart.

Both, I decided. Definitely both.

CHAPTER 74