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│ Surviving The End
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│Cast aside by a world that mistook her for infected, Aisha now sees the crumbling of humanity's reign over their miserable world. It's time for something new, som...
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The fire had burned down to a dull flicker, the wind whispering through the bones of the gas station ruin. It was late—so late it had stopped being night and started becoming something else, something dead and quiet and lost.
I lay curled on the concrete, wrapped in an old blanket that smelled like smoke and old sweat. The cold bit through it anyway. Not that it mattered. I didn't feel the cold the way I remembered. I didn't feel much of anything.
Except empty.
Except wrong.
I stared up at the ceiling—what was left of it—watching the wind tug at loose wires and scraps of metal. Every now and then, they'd clatter softly, like wind chimes made from the ribs of the world. Koda was across from me, on the other side of the fire, half-asleep with one arm draped behind his head. He hadn't looked at me in over an hour.
Good.
I didn't want him to see me like this.
I didn't want anyone to.
Because something was wrong. So wrong.
I touched my shoulder and pressed down.
No flinch. No pain.
I remembered the gunshot. The sound. The way it had knocked me sideways, thrown me to the ground. There had been blood. There had been screaming.
But now? Nothing.
Just a puckered mark where the bullet had gone in. The skin was smooth and cool, like my body had healed—but not removed it. I could feel it under my fingertips. Solid. Heavy.
Still inside me.
Same with the one in my thigh. I ran my hand down the muscle, pressing until I found it—a lump of metal lodged just above my knee.
Two bullets. Still inside.
And I hadn't even noticed.
I should've felt pain. Infection. A fever. I should've been limping, crying, bleeding.
