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

The little spark in Mia's eyes immediately died, snuffed out by fear. Her expression shifted from weary determination to something dull and lifeless, like she was bracing herself for whatever fresh hell was about to unfold.

I couldn't blame her. Every visit from Jay was like rolling dice—sometimes he came just to taunt us, sometimes he brought food, and sometimes… well, sometimes it was worse. Much worse.

I didn't dare look at Mia. I was too afraid of what I would see in her eyes—too afraid that it would mirror exactly what I felt. Hopelessness. Resignation. The cold grip of fear curling around my throat.

Jay reached the bottom of the stairs with a grin that made my stomach turn. He always looked too pleased with himself, like this whole sick situation was some kind of twisted game and we were just his pawns.

"Ladies," he drawled, dragging out the word like he was tasting it on his tongue. "Miss me?"

CHAPTER 75