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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 · Ficção Científica
Classificações insuficientes
80 Chs

CHAPTER 45

The world was a blur of heat and shadows, my body heavy and useless under the weight of fever. It felt like I was sinking, endlessly falling into some dark, sticky void. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear murmurs, voices muted and indecipherable, like echoes from another world.

And then, someone shook me.

At first, I thought it was part of the dream, some phantom trying to drag me deeper. But the touch was insistent, firm but not rough, jolting me back into the real world. My eyelids fluttered open, my vision hazy and swimming.

"Alex?" My voice came out cracked, more a croak than anything else.

He was crouched in front of me, his face as unreadable as ever, though his eyes darted around like he was on edge. "You didn't leave," I murmured, my words slurring together, half a statement, half a question.