The Saint Is Dead, Long Live The Survivor

Synopsis

I died in a blizzard at -94 °F. At the time, the windows in the hallway had shattered, and the wind forced its way inside, carrying shards of ice with it. I lay curled on the frozen floor, my limbs long since numb, every breath slicing through me with sharp pain. The thin hoodie did nothing to keep out the cold. My fingers had gone pale, my lips cracked and bleeding, and gradually, my consciousness slipped away. The last thing I saw before I died was three faces I knew better than anyone, ones that now made my stomach churn with disgust. Wendy Lewis, my so-called best friend I had taken care of for three years, was nestled in my younger brother Leo Sanchez's arms. The two of them finished off my last piece of chocolate without a trace of guilt. My mother, Melissa Sanchez, stood with her hands on her hips, her face twisted in disdain. She gave my last half bottle of hot water to Leo, saying softly, "Be careful. It's super hot." My father, Gordon Sanchez, stood there with a blank face, as if I were nothing more than a stranger to him. He said flatly, "If you can't hold on anymore, then stop trying. Save the chance for Leo." In my previous life, I gave everything I had to my family. I saved the best of everything for Leo and endured my parents' guilt-tripping and manipulation for over a decade. I treated Wendy with nothing but sincerity, answered her every request, and cared for her as if she were my sister. Then the apocalypse came, with scorching heat, floods, and freezing cold striking one after another. The supplies I had struggled to gather were stripped away by the very people I trusted most. They took my food, my water, and my blankets. Then they threw me into the hallway like a piece of trash, leaving me there to freeze to death. Hatred came from the deepest part of my soul. With the last shred of strength I had left, I cursed them in silence. If I were given one more chance, I would never be a saint. No more mercy. No more backing down. Everyone who betrayed me, hurt me, and stole from me would pay the cruelest price.