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THE LOST : After The End

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."

Donna_Sheldon · Ciencia y ficción

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81 Chs

CHAPTER 62

The door creaked as I pushed it open, the sound echoing through the stillness like a warning I was too stubborn to heed. My hands trembled against the peeling wood, and for a moment, I froze, unable to cross the threshold. The house was still standing, but it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like home.

The smell hit me first—a rancid stench that clawed its way into my nose and throat, making my stomach churn violently. I gagged, one hand flying to my mouth as the other gripped the doorframe so tightly my knuckles turned white.

"Oh, God," I whispered, choking on the sour taste rising in my throat. Tears blurred my vision, streaming freely down my face as I doubled over, my body trembling under the weight of the stench and the memories flooding in.

The warmth of my dad's laugh, the soft hum of my mom singing in the kitchen—they collided with the stark reality of the decayed ruin in front of me.

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