THE LOST : After The End

That morning was like every other morning.

I woke up that morning to the smell of coffee and the gentle hum of life outside my window, like it was any other day. For a split second, everything was normal—just the sounds of a city waking up, car engines grumbling, distant chatter, the steady rhythm of a world still spinning. But then my phone buzzed, and the air shifted. It was like the atmosphere itself held its breath.

I groaned, rolling over, swiping at the screen with one eye barely open. Dozens of notifications—texts, alerts, news banners—all demanding my attention in an overwhelming blur of red and yellow. My heart thudded in my chest, the kind of quick, uneasy rhythm that starts when you know something's wrong before you even understand what it is.

"Outbreak spreads to major cities—unidentified illness," one of the headlines read. My thumb hovered over the screen. What illness? I thought, my stomach doing a slow, sickening flip. I scrolled through frantic messages from group chats, some full of panic, others just confused, like we were all stuck in the middle of a bad dream.

I sat up, my blankets pooling around my waist as I stared at my phone. Every few seconds, a new alert popped up. "Virus confirmed to spread through human contact." "CDC issues global emergency." "Stay indoors. Do not approach anyone showing symptoms."

This was just some overblown news cycle, right? Like all those false alarms we'd seen before, where people freak out, but then things settle down and everyone moves on. But no—this felt different. It felt... real.

My hands shook as I clicked open a news video. The screen flickered to life, showing empty streets, overrun hospitals, doctors in hazmat suits. And then came the images of the infected—people, but not quite anymore. The way they moved, jerky, like something had hijacked their bodies, their brains and stripped away their humanity. Their eyes were vacant, yet filled with a kind of primal hunger.

I froze, the weight of it hitting me all at once. This was happening. Not somewhere far away, not on the other side of the world. Here. Now. In my city.

Suddenly, the noise outside… changed. The usual sounds—the voices, the cars, the everyday buzz—they weren't normal. They were laced with an edge, like the whole world had been tipped off balance. My apartment felt too small, the walls pressing in as panic surged through my chest.

I rushed to the window, my heart hammering, and peeked through the blinds. People were moving faster than normal on the street below—running, their faces tight with fear. There were no smiles, no casual conversations—just a steady stream of people, clutching bags, shoving past one another. But most of all running like their life was on the line.

A scream pierced the air, sharp and guttural, and my body reacted before my mind did. I jumped back from the window, heart pounding. What the hell was happening out there?

I grabbed my phone again, dialing my mom, my fingers fumbling over the numbers. Pick up, pick up, I begged silently, every ring like a countdown in my head. She didn't answer. I tried again, then my dad. My sister. Each call went unanswered, straight to voicemail, their voices eerily calm in the recordings, like they hadn't yet realized the world had changed while they were sleeping.

I didn't know what to do. What do you do when the world falls apart? No one tells you how to handle that. There's no guidebook for surviving the end of everything.

I paced the room, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. My apartment, which had always been my safe space, now felt like a cage. I tried to think, to plan, but my mind was a swirling mess of fear. I needed to do something, but every option seemed useless. Go outside? And risk running into… whatever was out there? Stay in here and hope it all blows over? How long would that take?

My stomach twisted in knots. I rushed to the fridge, throwing it open, but there wasn't much. I hadn't gone shopping in days, telling myself I would go tomorrow, always tomorrow. Now all I saw were a few cans of soup, some expired eggs, and a half-empty carton of milk. Great.

I would have been prepared. If only I knew something like this could happen. But who expects the world to end on a random Thursday morning?

I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold metal of the fridge, hugging my knees to my chest. The air in the apartment felt thick, like I couldn't breathe enough of it in. My brain kept spinning, trying to process everything, but it couldn't. How could it? One moment I was just… Maya—just a girl with an introverted lifestyle and an ordinary life. And now, I didn't know who I was anymore. Didn't know if I would ever get that life back.

And that's when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of something—or someone—pounding on the door downstairs. Hard, insistent, frantic. My blood ran cold. I knew that whatever was on the other side wasn't something I wanted to meet.

But the pounding kept going, louder and more desperate, until it suddenly stopped.

The silence was deafening. That's when I realized—nothing outside sounded right anymore. No more traffic. No more voices. Just… stillness. Like the city had finally, completely died.

I stayed there, frozen against the fridge, not daring to move, not daring to breathe, as the weight of what was happening settled in.

This was real. This wasn't going to pass.

The world had ended, and I was still here, somehow. Alone.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't want everyone to disappear anymore. I didn't want the quiet. I wanted the noise back, the chaos, the life. But that was gone now, swept away in an instant, leaving nothing behind but the terrifying emptiness.

I wasn't ready for this. I didn't know if I ever would be.