Surviving As Novels & Stories

Save me anything that was to stand of my way of being free and happy. I would survive. That was what I had been taught to do after all. A survivor's will never broke and mine sure as hell won't.

I do not want to live anymore, how can I survive this, I often wonder. There is always one answer that Ava gives to me. "Please stay strong and do not lose hope, this will pass and we will be free, we will survive this, we have to wait a little bit more and we have to stay strong.

Zara kic‌k‍s obl​igingly. “⁠She’s strong,” he says. ​“Like you.”‍ ⁠“Like all of us. We’re survi‍vors, right?” The word ca‌tches in my thro​at. Survivors. Is that what we are‌? Or ar​e we just peo⁠ple who h‍aven’t died yet? Two weeks later, I​’m thirt‌y​-two weeks​ preg​nant and having contr⁠ac‌t‍i‌ons.​

Catherine said. "Species survival. We've established a continuity government. Secretary of Agriculture survived in NORAD—she's Acting President now. Fourteen senators, thirty-seven House members survived. Enough to reconstitute Congress." Wright looked at them. "The United States government endures. We're asking all survivor groups to join the network." "Under military authority," Maya said.

I flashed her a small smile as we moved. “I understand… let’s just get through this.” She said. “Hang in there.” It was Rick’s voice next as he clasped his own palm around my other arm and we walked out through the wrought gate with the others. My gaze diverted to where Stella’s body and blood had been with last night’s memory still so fresh in my mind. For some reason, I was going to miss her each time I thought of her. “We survived two games so far, we can survive two more.” Kim shook me.

He raised his glass. "To the deadies who refuse to stay dead. May you survive what's coming. Or at least die spectacularly." We raised our glasses. "To survival."

“Something like that. He… he’s intense.” Alex laughed softly. “Intense doesn’t even begin to cover it. Everyone reacts differently. Some break immediately. Some bend but keep their wits. And then… there’s the rare few who survive.” She gave me a pointed look. “Survive is good, by the way.” I blinked at her, a little stunned. “Survive?” “Yeah. Survive means you didn’t give him what he wanted. You stood your ground. You weren’t… toyed with.”

I sit there until my legs go numb and the silver finally stops burning. I’m not sure if I’m alive or dead, but either way, I am still here. I survived the bite. I can survive this. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Her amber eyes are sharp in the darkness. "You're running," she says. "I'm not running." "Yes, you are. You're running from yourself. From what happened. From what you did." "I killed Marcus," I say. "I watched him die. And I felt nothing." "That's not running," she says. "That's surviving." I look at her. "What's the difference?" She's quiet for a moment. "Running is when you stop feeling," she says. "Surviving is when you feel everything and keep going anyway."

And then I'm going to make sure every person responsible understand that survival did not mean peace. It just meant you got to live with it. Until you didn't.