2

I hate my life. I'm a teen in Australia. Australia itself is fine but it's just one person that makes this place a living hell. My father is taller and stronger than me leading to me not being able to retaliate against the wrongdoings of my sperm donor. One of these days I will kill him in a gruesome and horrific way for many to watch and applaud at the monster I vanquished.

I hate waking up in the morning. Every day feels like a chore, especially when I have to get ready for school. I drag myself out of bed and stumble towards the bathroom, avoiding the creaky floorboards so I don't wake up my dad.

I splash some water on my face and look in the mirror, trying to ignore the bags under my eyes. It's no surprise that I have trouble sleeping when I'm constantly worried about what my father may do next. But I have to ignore those thoughts and concentrate on getting ready for the day.

I brush my teeth and run a comb through my messy hair, trying to make myself look somewhat presentable. I throw on my school uniform and grab my bag, making sure to pack my textbooks and notebook.

As I head towards the door, I hear my dad stirring in his room. I freeze for a moment, praying that he doesn't come out and start another fight. But thankfully, he stays put, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I head out into the cool morning air and start my walk to school. The streets are quiet, with only a few early risers out and about. I try to enjoy the peacefulness, but my mind is consumed with thoughts of my dad and the constant fear that I live in.

As I walked into my first class of the day, English, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over me. I've never been a big fan of English, and the thought of sitting through another hour of analyzing Shakespeare's sonnets made me want to crawl under my desk and never come out.

I took my usual seat in the back of the classroom, hoping to avoid any unnecessary attention from the teacher or my classmates. But of course, that was wishful thinking.

As soon as I sat down, Mrs. Johnson called on me to read the next passage from our textbook. I groaned internally, but stood up and cleared my throat, trying to sound as confident as possible.

But as I read the words on the page, my mind began to drift away. I couldn't concentrate on the meaning behind the words, all I could think about was the bruises on my arms and the ache in my bones from last night's beating.

I finished reading the passage and sat back down, trying to hide the pain that was radiating through my body. Mrs. Johnson must have noticed something was off because she came over to my desk and asked if everything was okay.

I lied and told her I was just feeling a little under the weather, hoping she would buy it and leave me alone. But deep down, I knew that the only way to truly escape the hell that was my life was to run away and never look back.

I walk into my second class of the day, 2D Art. This is one of my favorite classes of the day. Art is one of the few things in this world that I find enjoyable, and it's a nice break from the monotony of my other classes.

As I take my seat, I look around the room at the different art pieces hanging on the walls. Some are abstract, some are portraits, and some are landscapes. I always find myself drawn to the landscapes, the way the artist can create a beautiful and peaceful scene on a canvas.

Our teacher, Ms. Green, walks in and greets us with a smile. She's a kind woman who always encourages us to be creative and to express ourselves through our art. Today, she has us working on a landscape piece using watercolors.

I pick up my brush and start to paint, letting my mind wander as I work on my piece. This is the one time of day where I can forget about all the stress and chaos in my life, and just focus on creating something beautiful.

As the class comes to an end, Ms. Green walks around to each of our desks, complimenting our work and offering suggestions for improvement. When she comes to me, she tells me how impressed she is with my piece and encourages me to keep working on it.

I smile shyly and thank her before packing up my supplies. As I leave the art room and head towards my next class, I can't help but feel a bit more relaxed and at ease. It's one of the few classes I truly enjoy and excel in, and it's a nice break from the stress and anxiety that my other classes tend to bring.

I walk into the survival class, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. It's one of my favorite classes of the day, but I also know it's going to be physically and mentally demanding.

The room is filled with various tools and equipment - ropes, knives, flint and steel, compasses, and more. The teacher, Mr. Johnson, is a grizzled old man with a thick Australian accent. He looks like he's seen his fair share of danger and adventure.

"Alright, settle down, mates," he says, clapping his hands. "Today, we're going to talk about the basics of building a shelter and starting a fire".

We follow Mr. Brown outside to the school's large field where he has set up a makeshift campsite. He explains that today's lesson will be focused on building a shelter and finding sources of food and water in the wild.

As we start working on our shelters, I can't help but feel a sense of calm wash over me. This is my favorite part of the week - being able to escape from the stress and chaos of my life and just focus on surviving in the wilderness.

I grab some branches and start building a frame for my shelter. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees and the birds chirping in the distance help to ease my mind. It's almost like I'm in a different world - one where I'm not constantly on edge and in fear of my father's wrath.

As we work, Mr. Brown offers tips and tricks on how to make our shelters more stable and durable. He also shows us how to find edible plants and how to purify water in case we ever find ourselves stranded without food or water.

By the end of the lesson, I feel a sense of accomplishment. My shelter may not be the most sturdy, but it's enough to protect me from the elements. And I now have the knowledge to survive in the wilderness if I ever need to.

As we pack up our supplies and head back inside, I can't help but feel grateful for this class. It's one of the few things in my life that gives me hope for a better future - one where I'm not constantly living in fear of my father's abuse.

As I walk into physics class, I can't help but feel a sense of excitement. Physics has always been one of my favorite subjects, and I dream of one day becoming an astrophysicist. I take my seat in the back of the classroom, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention.

Mr. Smith, our physics teacher, greets us and begins the lesson. He talks about black holes and their properties, and my mind starts to drift. I can't help but imagine myself studying these mysterious phenomena in person, discovering something new and groundbreaking.

Mr. Smith notices my daydreaming and calls on me to answer a question. I quickly snap back to reality and answer correctly, relieved that I didn't embarrass myself in front of the class.

The rest of the class goes by in a blur.

I enter the US History class and take my usual seat at the back of the room. Mr. Johnson greets the class and begins his lecture on the American Revolution. I've always found this topic fascinating, so I lean in and listen intently.

As Mr. Johnson goes on about the Tea Act and the Boston Tea Party, my mind starts to wander. I can't help but imagine what it would have been like to live in those times, to be a part of something so monumental and world-changing.

But then I'm brought back to reality as Mr. Wells calls on me to answer a question. I rack my brain for the answer and manage to give a satisfactory response, earning a nod of approval from my teacher.

The class goes on for another hour, covering the events leading up to the Declaration of Independence. I take diligent notes, hoping to retain as much information as possible for the upcoming exam.

As the bell rings, signaling the end of class, I pack up my bag and head out the door. I take a deep breath, feeling grateful for the opportunity to learn about such an important part of history.

Going to lunch next As I walk into the crowded cafeteria, I search for an empty table to sit at, hoping to be alone with my thoughts. I spot an empty table in the corner and make my way over, but as I sit down, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" a voice asks.

I turn to see a skinny, nerdy-looking guy standing next to me, his tray in hand. I shake my head, and he takes a seat across from me.

"I'm Horus," he says, extending his hand. "I don't think we've met before."

"I'm Nadir," I replied, shaking his hand reluctantly.

"It's nice to meet you, Nadir," Horus says with a smile. "Do you mind if I sit here? I don't really know anyone else in this school, and I hate eating alone."

I shrug, not really caring one way or the other. Horus seems harmless enough, and it's not like I have any friends to sit with.

"Sure, go ahead," I say, turning my attention back to my food.

Horus takes a bite of his sandwich and then looks up at me. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asks.

I raise an eyebrow. "Fun? I don't really have time for that. I'm too busy with school."

"Oh," Horus says, looking a little disappointed. "Well, what are you interested in then?"

I hesitate for a moment before answering. "Astrophysics," I say finally.

"Wow, that's really cool," Horus says, looking genuinely impressed. "I don't think I could handle all that math and science stuff."

I shrug. "It's not that hard if you're willing to put in the work."

We finish our lunch in relative silence, but as I get up to leave, Horus stops me.

"Hey, Nadir, it was nice meeting you," he says. "Maybe we could sit together again sometime?"

I nod, not really sure what else to say. "Yeah, sure. Maybe."

As I make my way to my sixth-period class, I feel a sense of excitement bubble up inside of me. This isn't just any ordinary class, it's creative writing. It's the one class where I can let my imagination run wild and create whole new worlds with just a pen and a piece of paper.

As I walk into the classroom, I'm greeted by the sight of tables arranged in a circle, each surrounded by a group of students. I make my way to an empty chair and sit down, pulling out my notebook and pen.

Our teacher, Ms. Rodriguez, walks in and greets us with a smile. She begins the class by going over the assignment for the day: write a short story based on a prompt she's given us.

I take a moment to read over the prompt, letting the ideas swirl around in my head. As the rest of the class begins to write, I start to put my own words down on paper. Before I know it, the class is over, and I'm left with a finished story in my notebook.

I walk into my final class of the day, dreading what's to come. It's math, my least favorite subject, and to make matters worse, the teacher, Mrs. Fisher is notorious for being rude.

As soon as I sit down at my desk, Mrs. Fisher starts barking out instructions, barely giving us time to even open our textbooks. She assigns a long list of problems, all due by the end of class.

I try to focus on the first problem, but I can feel Mrs. Smith's eyes on me, and every time I make a mistake, she calls me out in front of the class.

I glance over at Horus, who's sitting across the room, and he gives me an encouraging smile, but it's not enough to ease my nerves.

Mrs. Smith continues to hover over me, her voice getting louder and more impatient with each passing minute. I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of numbers and equations, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to make any progress.

By the end of class, I'm mentally exhausted and physically drained. I gather my things and make a beeline for the door, not wanting to stick around any longer than necessary.

As I step out into the hallway, I let out a sigh of relief. The school day is finally over, and I can go home and forget about math class and Mrs. Fisher for a while.

I walk out of the classroom, my mind still reeling from the stress of the day. I think about going home, but the thought fills me with dread. My mom is gone, and my dad is a monster. He's abusive and controlling, and I never know what kind of mood he'll be in when I get home. Will he be drunk? Will he be angry? Will he take out his frustration on me again?

I've been dealing with this for years, but it never gets easier. Some days, I feel like I'm barely hanging on by a thread. And on days like today, when everything seems to be going wrong, I just want to run away and never look back.

I miss my mom so much. She was the only one who ever understood me, the only one who ever truly cared about me. But now she's gone, and I'm stuck with my dad. He's never been the same since she died. He's always angry, always lashing out. And I'm the one who has to bear the brunt of his anger.

Sometimes I wonder if it's my fault. Maybe I'm not good enough, maybe I don't do enough to make him happy. But no matter how hard I try, it's never enough. He always finds something to criticize, something to tear me down.

I just want to escape, to run away from all of this. But I know I can't. I have to keep going, to keep pushing through no matter how hard it gets. Because maybe someday things will get better. Maybe someday I'll be able to leave this all behind and start a new life. But for now, I just have to keep surviving.

I turn the corner and see my house in the distance, I know that I can't avoid him forever. I take a deep breath and steel myself for what's to come.

As I open the front door, I can hear my dad's angry voice coming from the living room. I quickly make my way upstairs, hoping to avoid him, but as I pass by the open door, he spots me.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growls, standing up from his chair.

"Just to my room," I mutter, trying to push past him.

But he grabs my arm and pulls me back. "I didn't give you permission to leave yet," he sneers.

I try to pull away, but he's too strong. I can feel the anger boiling inside me, but I know better than to lash out. I just grit my teeth and let him have his way.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he releases me and slams the door shut behind him. I take a deep breath and make my way to my room, eager to escape into the safety of my own space.

As I lay in bed, I can still hear the muffled sound of my dad's voice coming from downstairs. But for the first time in a long time, I feel a sense of relief. The day is finally over, and I made it through. Tomorrow is a new day, and maybe, just maybe, things will be better.

The next day started off like any other, but as the day went on, the heat intensified. The news reports were warning of a heatwave, and it certainly felt like it. I checked my phone to see the temperature: 105 degrees. This was definitely not normal for this time of year.

As the day wore on, I noticed a strange orange tint to the sky. It looked like something out of a movie. The news reports were now saying that there were several wildfires burning in the area, and the smoke was causing the strange color.

As the day went on, the air quality worsened. It was hard to breathe, and my eyes were burning. The news reports were urging people to stay inside and avoid going outside unless necessary.

I tried to distract myself by reading a book, but my mind kept drifting to the fires. What if they got closer to our home? What if we had to evacuate?

As the sun began to set, the sky turned a deep red. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. It was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

I could hear the distant sound of sirens, and I knew that the firefighters were working hard to contain the fires. But the reality of the situation was starting to sink in. This was serious.

I look outside and see the fire closing in on the house. My dad was drunk and I decided now was the time to flee and maybe he will die in the fire.

As I run deeper into the forest, I can feel the intense heat of the fire behind me. My eyes sting from the smoke, and my lungs ache as I gasp for air. The sound of crackling flames and falling trees echoes through the forest, drowning out all other noise. I don't dare look back, afraid that I'll see the flames closing in on me.

I keep running until I'm deep enough in the forest that the smoke isn't as thick. But I know I can't stay here for long. The fire is still raging, and I'm not safe yet. I find a small clearing and collapse to the ground, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath.

I spent the next two days hiding in the forest, moving from one spot to another to avoid the flames. I'm constantly on the lookout for any signs of danger, and I'm terrified that the fire will find me. I have nothing to eat or drink, and I'm exhausted from the constant running and hiding.

Eventually I found my way to a port going to Iceland and there goes my way to freedom. It feels exalting. Almost like a breath of fresh air or maybe the feeling of a cool breeze. As I board the boat to Iceland, I notice that everyone around me looks exhausted and smells like ash. I try to find a spot to sit or lie down, but the boat is so crowded that there's hardly any space. As I'm walking through the crowd, I see a familiar face: Horus.

"Hey," I say, tapping him on the shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to get away from the fire, just like you," he replies, his eyes red and tired.

We find a small space to sit down together, and we talk for a while about our experiences with the fire. It's comforting to know that I'm not alone in this, and that there are others who have been through the same thing.

But as the boat starts moving, I can feel the exhaustion and the trauma catching up with me. I lay down on the hard deck, trying to get some rest, but my mind won't let me. The memories of the fire, the fear, the running and hiding, they all come back to me in full force.

I try to focus on the sound of the waves and the smell of the salty sea air, but it's hard. I'm so tired, and I can feel my body shutting down. But at least I'm safe, for now. And maybe, just maybe, there's hope for a better future in Iceland.

Days later

As the boat approached the shores of Iceland, a sense of relief washed over me. But that relief was short-lived. Suddenly, the boat hit something hard, and I felt a jolt that sent me flying across the deck. I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing as I looked around, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

It was chaos. People were screaming and running around, some trying to grab life vests or find a way off the boat. I stumbled towards Horus, who was standing frozen, staring at the shore.

"Horus, we have to go," I shouted, grabbing his arm. "The boat's sinking!"

He didn't respond, so I pulled him towards the lifeboats. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of burning wood, and the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the boat was deafening.

We managed to get into one of the lifeboats just as the boat began to list to one side. We rowed frantically away, watching as the boat sank into the water, taking our hopes of leaving Iceland with it.

I step off the lifeboat onto the cold sand, my heart pounding with fear and uncertainty. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see figures in the distance, just standing there. At first, I thought they must be survivors like us, but as I got closer, I realized they're not quite human.

"What the hell?" I mutter to myself, my eyes widening in horror. "Horus, do you see that?"

I turn to my friend, but he's already frozen in place, staring at the same group of people.

"They're not people," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves.

As we stare in disbelief, the figures begin to shuffle towards us, their movements jerky and unnatural. My heart races as I realize that these are not survivors, but something else entirely.

"Run!" I shout, grabbing Horus's arm and pulling him towards the forest.

We run for what feels like hours, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, until we finally collapse on the forest floor, exhausted and scared.

"What the hell is going on?" Horus pants, his eyes wide with fear.

"I don't know," I reply, my voice shaking. "But we need to keep moving. We can't stay here."

We spend the next few days wandering through the wilderness, always on the lookout for those... things. We scavenge for food and water, never staying in one place for too long.

Until something changes it all that change happens with a golden tree that I will always thank for the rest of my life. It all started like this. We were walking around Vik i Myrdal which was close to the beach we landed on which was Reynisfjara. I made an executive decision to raid a clothing shop. I took a heavy pair of insulated pants, thick wool socks, and sturdy hiking boots to keep my feet warm and dry in the snow.

Horus is similarly dressed in a thick parka and snow pants, his hands wrapped in warm gloves and his head was protected by a knitted beanie. We quickly moved on and hit up a weapons store where there was Knives, spears, swords, glaives ,katana, mace, macheate, daggers and axes. All in all this store had a lot of weapons inside the shop we could take them all. But that's not practical at all so I decided to take one and be happy with it till it breaks. I wanted the axe. It can be used both for chopping wood for shelter and fire, as well as for self-defense against zombies.

It also has a longer reach than a knife or dagger, making it useful for keeping zombies at a distance. However, it may require more strength and skill to wield effectively compared to a smaller weapon like a knife or dagger. It's important to remember that having a weapon is only one aspect of survival in a zombie apocalypse, and being prepared with food, water, shelter, and a plan for evacuation or long-term survival is equally important.

I tried convincing Horus to not get a katana but no the fucking weeb insisted on it. To be fair it did look cool but I'm looking for function over fashion. Horus would disagree with me.

As soon as I stepped out of the store, I could see a group of zombies slowly making their way towards us. My heart started racing, and my hands shook as I tightened my grip on my trusty axe.

Beside me, Horus looked just as scared as I was, holding onto his katana with a death grip. I tried to remember the few axe-wielding techniques I had learned from video games, but at that moment, it felt like all my knowledge had gone out the window.

The zombies kept coming closer, groaning and snarling as they moved towards us. Horus tried to swing his katana, but he stumbled over his own feet and nearly fell to the ground. It was a comedic moment, but in the midst of the chaos, I couldn't find it in myself to laugh.

I raised my axe in defense, ready to swing at any zombie that came too close. It was heavy and unwieldy, but it was better than nothing.

We stood there, frozen in fear, waiting for the zombies to make their move. And then, somehow, we managed to survive. I still don't know how we did it, but we fought back and managed to fend off the horde of zombies.

Battered and hungry we walked into the forest to eventually we stumbled upon the most beautiful tree I've ever seen in my life, a massive tree that towers above all others, with a trunk as wide as a castle and branches that stretch out to the sky. The bark is gold and it shimmers in the light at the bottom in the center of the root lies a natural pool with what could only be nectar.

We slowly approached and glanced at Horus and a question Raised a question.

"Thirsty"?

"I guess I could use a drink you"?

"We could drink that gold stuff on that tree"

"Maybe that's not the best idea we don't even know how dangerous that tree is"

"We'll be fine, it's a tree, how bad can it really be".

"Well actually the The Manchineel Tree can kill you if you take its fruit" Horus said with a smile on his face.

"Keyword fruit not whatever that is"

Reaching forward Horus grabbed a bit of the substance and weighted it in his hand.

"Hmmm It's quite solid and there are lights that shine at the bottom, take a look Najir" Horus muttered.

Slowly I grabbed a bit of the substance and after a few seconds I spoke up.

"Seems safe enough let's grab more of it and drink it on three"

When i saw Horus with a hand full i started the countdown

"1"

"2"

"3 bottles up"

And with that everything went dark.