[ WP ] You were the last human on earth after the zombie apocalypse destroyed civilization . One day , you finally get infected by a zombie , but after turning , you realize what you 've been missing out on .

I grew up in fear. Honestly, it's amazing I lived as long as I did, as our numbers dwindled more and more, every year, to their endless numbers. They were n't just a force, they *hunted*, they consumed, they *thought* and fought us, every moment, of every day. The only thing that kept us alive was their tendency to rip their victims apart, before they could be turned. 
 
 Of course, now I understand. 
 
 Only the weak could n't escape. From the *moment* you're bitten, it hits you, like a bucket of ice-cold water, it hits you, fills you with fear and adrenaline. If you ca n't get away for half an hour for it to happen with that in your system, then you're not worthy of surviving, you're just more food. You're not capable of this. 
 
 I *get* it, now. When I got infected, I was the last. Nobody is left in this part of the world, as far as I know. And now, I see why they did everything. Those of us who are clever, are fighters, who can be *hunters*, we're the only ones who survived being bitten, or survived attacking the remaining humans. Natural selection at it's finest. Of course, some of us they chose, like me. I asked the one who got me, the same day, once I understood I had nothing to fear. He could have followed me, hunted me down and kept trying, but he understood. I'd proven myself getting as far as I did. `` You had the instinct and the ability, all you needed was to be *one* of us.'' 
 
 My heartbeat is gone, my lungs quiet and dead. My skin is cool to the touch, though it is intact, solid, like that of all the others' I've seen. And yet, for all those things I lack, I've never felt more *alive* than now. Now, I understand. I'm a *predator*. I am a *Hunter*. 
 
 What I hunt does n't even matter- so long as I can sink my fangs into its flesh, rip it limb from limb with my claws, stalk it in silence as it walks, unaweare, and fill myself with its meat, its flesh its blood. *This* is all I've required. 
 
 I am not prey any longer.
