Self-preservation 3 Novels & Stories

The silhouette shifted slightly. “Then you understand the change.” “I understand that it’s no longer passive.” “Yes.” “And that makes it dangerous.” A pause. “Or stable,” it replied. I frowned slightly. “Explain.” “Awareness introduces self-regulation.” I looked across the network. Clusters pulsed in uneven rhythms. But none of them were collapsing. None of them were spiraling. They were adjusting. “Self-regulation can become self-preservation,” I said. “Yes.” “And self-preservation can become… resistance.”

Something simpler. Human. Protective.

My heart jumped. I had not expected Mom to sink this low, tricking me into coming back home to marry me off to some old widower from her hometown. Once I understood what was happening, I gritted my teeth and drove my elbow hard into Dale's stomach. While he was doubled over in pain, I kicked him between the legs. During my time in Pelford, my health had improved considerably. And because I was alone in a foreign country, I had enrolled in self-defense classes for my personal safety.

Ha, like I would even go to a party if my life depended on it. Should I take his apple laptop? Nah, not good enough, I know it would affect him but what the heck would I do with it that I can't do on my phone?. I need something which would affect him and benefit me at the same time. Don't look at me like that, I'm not selfish, he deserves it and it's selfLove tho. Munching on my favourite biscuit, an idea struck, *food* yeah food!. I jumped of my bed and did a booty shake. I can see your face now, told u am crazy.

he said. Silence. That was the closest thing to truth left. Aurora exhaled slowly. “I can’t make them see my version,” she said. “No,” Elias agreed. A pause. “But you can hold onto it.” Aurora gave a faint, almost tired smile. “That sounds like a small victory,” she said. “It’s not victory,” Elias replied. A pause. “It’s preservation.” Silence. And preservation doesn’t feel powerful. It feels… fragile. Aurora turned back to her screen.

“You still don’t know if you trust me.” “No,” she said. “I still don’t know if I trust myself with you.” That… that broke something open. “I don’t want us to fall apart,” I said. “We’re not falling apart,” she replied. “We’re calculating survival. And some days, survival means separation.” I looked at her, this woman I’d bled besides, built with, broken with, and understood something terrifying: This wasn’t about betrayal. This was about preservation. “Then say it,” I said. “Say the word.” She didn’t ask which one.

For the first time since my family aligned itself with him, I seriously considered the unthinkable. Betrayal. Not out of loyalty to Lyra. Not out of any newfound conscience about the wolves he had tortured or the packs he had destroyed or the mother he was hunting through frozen mountains. This wasn't a redemption moment. This wasn't the part of the story where the villain suddenly discovers morality. This was self preservation. The same instinct that had guided every decision I had ever made, stripped of all the dressing and reduced to its most fundamental form. Survive. Whatever it takes. Whoever it costs.

I looked at him one last time and then at my mother and father. I knew they were going to hurt for a very, very long time. But that pain was the one thing they needed to hold onto, the one thing they had to remember. Turning my back on the graveyard, I scooped Jellybean up into my arms and walked forward into the warmth. The wind blew softly through the pines. Behind me, the little star sticker finally settled down and held fast to the paper. ---

"I've got firewood and vegetables in my storage space, but I don't share them. You don't think that's selfish?" "That's yours," Zeph said. "Whether you share it or not is your choice." He paused, then spoke again. "People change when things get worse. Friends, even family, it doesn't matter. When survival's on the line, things can turn ugly fast. How can you be sure people won't change? Your storage space can grow food. Sharing now might seem fine, but what happens when conditions get worse, and they want to use it as shelter? What if you want to save it for later? What, then?"

Father Karnamis' words prattled in his mind: "We humans are like animals. We preserve our lives first before we think of another's. When it comes down to it, we will always save ourselves. The blessed are not so different. At best, we are more like the Vulcans of our kind." It felt like a twisted conscience. But the event of the night he left the conisoir had been enough lesson for Sethlzaar. He was duty bound to save himself. Saving Saelin had done his life enough harm We think of ourselves first. He looked up, again. But this is not the Conisoir, it will not ruin my life. No, an answer came almost immediately, it could end it.