A living Hell
- Reads 74
- Votes 7
- Parts 7
Ongoing1h 21m
Last published Mon, Jun 24, 2013
Nobody can predict the future. Nobody knows what tomorrow will be like. Some predicted this would happen. The others would tell those how crazy it sounded. Who knew they were right? I'm Claire Clarkson, I lived in Cali Before this all happend. It's like living in hell, or what I assume hell is like anyway. Why is it like A Living Hell? Well I live in a world that is now full of 'Walkers' Atleast that is what we call them. By we I mean me and my group. No not a group of 'Walkers' But humans, we are a small group of survivors. We aren't sure how many other survivors are out there. We have encountered our fair share of survivors. But not the kind ones, ones that are out to kill their own kind, even in this situation. I have made a few mistakes, don't judge. We are all human we do make mistakes. Just remember nothing is ever a secret long.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
Before The Rebuild: The Prequel to Rebuilt
Before Mike, before the love story people know now, there was me-raw, broken, and surviving. This is the truth I never thought I'd be strong enough to tell. I was 22 years old when my life shattered. I was raped in a back alley and left bleeding, alone. When I turned to the police, hoping for help, they didn't protect me-they shamed me. They called me slurs. They asked me what I'd done to deserve it. What I had worn. Whether I had "led him on." No one believed me. Nine months later, I gave birth to my son. I named him Aerion Jace Rosier-Aj. His name means strength, wisdom and power in Greek. I gave him that name because i wanted him to have everything I felt had been stolen from me. He was my light, even in the darkest time of my life. But the darkness wasn't done with me. My two older children, Samuel and Emilie, ended up with my first ex's mother, and I lost all parental rights to them. And then came the 18 months of sex trafficking. They used Aj as collateral-my baby was the only reason i obeyed. I was forced to do what they wanted, or they would have killed him. They only let me see him for one hour each day. I was deprived of food, stripped of dignity, starved down to 75 pounds. I remember the blue car Aj was in the day the police sting finally saved us. But even after we were freed, i wasn't really free. the PTSD haunted me. I avoided certain materials, certain places, even certain sounds. And every night, I heard the voices. Every relationship after that was wrong-narcissists who broke me down even further. Men who convinced me I was unworthy, unwanted. My current ex even told my son Aj that he wasn't wanted-that he was nothing. I let it happen, and the guilt kills me. I became "the girl who never cried." I thought if I never cried, maybe none of it really happened. But the truth is, it didn't. And it changed me.
The Day I Turned To Stone
They said it would only feel like a moment. Close my eyes, drift off, and wake beneath another sun. I believed them. We all did. The world was ending, and The Passage Program was our last chance to save what was left of it. Sleep through the ruin. Wake to a beginning. I don't remember falling asleep. Just the weight of the air, the pressure in my chest, the feeling that something inside me was... slipping. If I'm awake now, why can't I move? If I'm alive, why does everything feel so still? They said I'd wake to a new world. They never said what it would cost.
The world is ending and I have unlimited supplies
They said the world was ending, but it didn't start with fire or war. It began with a storm-just like any other. But this time, it didn't stop. The rain fell for days, then weeks, and then came the flood that drowned everything. When the sun finally broke through the clouds, people thought it was over. They thought it was hope. But that hope was a lie. The sun scorched the land. Insects bred in the rotting water. Plague spread like wildfire. Water became scarce, food even scarcer. They said Mother Earth was angry, and I believed them. I did everything to survive. Even if it meant relying on a filthy, twisted man for bread. He preyed on girls like me-young, desperate, orphaned. He fed us, clothed us, and in return, demanded we sell our bodies. He called it "the price of protection." Men came to us like vultures. They stripped away our innocence and left us hollow. And then, one winter night, starving people stormed our hideout. They came with knives and desperation. I threw myself in front of the youngest girl when one lunged to stab her. I took the blade meant for her. As my body went cold, I felt no fear. Just peace. Finally, I thought. This nightmare is over. But when I opened my eyes again... I was in my bed. Warm. Dry. Dressed in pajamas. It hadn't been a nightmare. It had been real. And now, it's happening all over again. But this time, I won't be weak. This time, I won't be used. This time... I'll survive. No matter the cost.
Armageddon
It was as silent as ever, no crickets making a sound, not a single gust of air bothered the night. It was just me and one other, he was like me, a hunter. As a child my father was in the lab trying to create new ways to bring back life from deceased beings, he tried with every molecule in him to try and change the way humans were living. It was a horrible incident, an outbreak occurred causing the government to shut his lab down. My mother was the first to suffer this plague, she was exposed to it the night my father had made his mistake causing him his life later on. He loved my mother so, that he couldn't find it in himself to free her from the pain. She was already pregnant with me, inside her womb , the infection seeped into my blood cells and that's why I am unique. When I was born my father ran tests over and over that would have killed a normal child but I was different, my DNA patters were different, my genes were mixed. Such things to happen afterwards is what my story is about. There's no such things as 'A Happy Ever After' in my story, it's sick and twisted with darkness around every corner. My name is Serene Jackson and this is the story of how I survived.Complete
The Days I Remember
When I was little I never thought this would happen. I never thought I would be here but here I am with tattoo number on my arm. I can't escape, I can't see them again, I'm here, and nobody will save me or the people I am with. There are many of us, I can't even tell you how many people are here but I know it's past the thousand mark. We are here because of one thing, we are different. In their eyes different is bad. I guess it is, well it seems like it is but it's really not. See this one guy had this plan. This plan was to destroy a group of people who didn't believe in what he believed. He put it in people's mind that these people were not even human just animals and that we needed to be taught a lesson. Because we were different that was the problem. My name is Holly Amelia Cohen and this is my story. This story is now publish and you can buy it if you want (http://www.amazon.com/dp/1494393867/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_xP-Psb0ES7QX416T )Complete
"It didn't have to be this way"
There is a world out there where I could have been happy. Where we could have been friends, and you could have benefited from what I know. Unfortunately, we don't live there. This is not a romance novel. Do not think this is a romance. Not all mobile devices will be able to show all the text accurately, as I use fonts as a conveyer of mental health. Warning Every warning you can think of. There will be gore rape torture and what is worse. Also, I make stories by writing the story plot and everything, and rewriting it to fit in the small details. The chapters all the final ones but the story itself has been finished.
Unmask
"You trust me, don't you?" he says with a smile, that smile. It had fooled everyone, even me at some point, and for the first time I want to scream with rage and shake the earth to the core. "Give me a hug," he says pulling me out of the chair that feels like a rock underneath me. I am as stiff as a board as his hands circle me, making me feel worse than dirt. His hands reach between my thighs and I want to plunge a knife deep through his chest. The only thing stopping me is, the knife is no where near. I pull back and I don't try to hide the anger in my eyes. I want him to see it. To know that I am coming for him. Rape is chanted repeatedly in my mind, reminding of the lies I just told and the false accusations I am throwing on innocent people. He's probably figured it out anyways, surely a Priest as high as he cannot be deceived. But none of that matters anymore because...... This is just the Beginning.Complete
Rise Of The Undead Part Three: With the Touch of a Hand
"You can't be afraid to kill these killers...sometimes in order to kill a killer, you have to become a killer." The man said. I was silent. I wasn't going to trust some random dying person I met on the streets. "If you gonna be a good leader...you don't want this to happen to your group..." The man said. "I'm not a leader..." I said to him. "You don't see yourself as one...but it sure does sound like your people do." The man said to me. "I'm sorry but---" I started to say but the man just started talking again. "You're not dealing with any old trigger happy man...that's for sure." The man said chuckling. "You're dealing with the man that rapes his sister, sliced a man's ear off, and hangs children over a crowd a risers." The man said. Trust and bonds are starting to form between the characters. They all thought they had this new world figured out, but they were all far from that. Friendships are formed and some grow stronger, and some are simply ruined. The group finds themselves second guessing who they can trust after the death of Julia. What will happen when the group finds Jackson? What will they do to him?Complete
Before Mike, before the love story people know now, there was me-raw, broken, and surviving. This is the truth I never thought I'd be strong enough to tell. I was 22 years old when my life shattered. I was raped in a back alley and left bleeding, alone. When I turned to the police, hoping for help, they didn't protect me-they shamed me. They called me slurs. They asked me what I'd done to deserve it. What I had worn. Whether I had "led him on." No one believed me. Nine months later, I gave birth to my son. I named him Aerion Jace Rosier-Aj. His name means strength, wisdom and power in Greek. I gave him that name because i wanted him to have everything I felt had been stolen from me. He was my light, even in the darkest time of my life. But the darkness wasn't done with me. My two older children, Samuel and Emilie, ended up with my first ex's mother, and I lost all parental rights to them. And then came the 18 months of sex trafficking. They used Aj as collateral-my baby was the only reason i obeyed. I was forced to do what they wanted, or they would have killed him. They only let me see him for one hour each day. I was deprived of food, stripped of dignity, starved down to 75 pounds. I remember the blue car Aj was in the day the police sting finally saved us. But even after we were freed, i wasn't really free. the PTSD haunted me. I avoided certain materials, certain places, even certain sounds. And every night, I heard the voices. Every relationship after that was wrong-narcissists who broke me down even further. Men who convinced me I was unworthy, unwanted. My current ex even told my son Aj that he wasn't wanted-that he was nothing. I let it happen, and the guilt kills me. I became "the girl who never cried." I thought if I never cried, maybe none of it really happened. But the truth is, it didn't. And it changed me.
More detailsContent Guidelines