This story is dedicated to my family's kitty, Maggie (Margaret). She died today, and I wanted to write a story about her. She fought so hard to cling onto life, she was a fighter from the beginning. She came to us (me and my family) in the middle of winter, it was freezing. She was thrown out onto the side of the road with no claws, and she wad fixed. She had no way of defending herself. We put out a little wooden kitty box, food, and water for her. And eventually, we coaxed her inside with a little milk. She never left ever since. She became the alpha of the house.

But now, we have moved to another place. We've been here for a few months, and she has been such a good girl. She has ever since we found her. She has no body fat on her whatsoever, so she's usually cold. We put her on a heating pad to keep her warm, she curled up; still fighting for life, and then died. Thankfully she went peacefully, with no pain. Please enjoy this story, it's for her.

We are the reckless, we are the wild youth.

The next generation, the generation that will determine the Clan's futures. But our time has past, some of us chose the wrong path, some of us chose the right one, but most of us died before we could get there. We have seen horrible things, we have made wrong decisions. But we have learned from those mistakes, at least, most of us have. Some of us have been taught well, while the rest of us…

The rest of us are a lost cause.

Nothing.

I was surrounded by it. It filled my lungs, weighing me down and making it hard to breath. I screamed, but nothing came out. My eyes burned with tears that tried to spill, but they never did. My teeth chattered as if I were cold, darkness closed in on me. I felt nothing, I could hear nothing, I could see nothing. The nothingness drew me down deeper into it's shadows. Then, I could feel something. It wasn't pleasant, it was horrid.

But those of us who chose the wrong path, who made a changeable decision, they can be saved. We just need to find a way to their hearts, to rid them of the evil that lurks beneath their skin. They are the ones who refuse help, but they are also the ones who desperately need help.

But they are lost in a storm. They are suffocating, screaming, drowning. They have no one to pull them above the waves, no one to pull them into the eye of the storm. They are lost at sea, they've been drifting for days, months, or even years.

I kept slipping down into the icy depths of the nothing, it drowned me, filling every ounce of my body. It was painful, I felt as if I were being compressed, crushed under the weight. I couldn't move, my limbs were rendered useless. My eyes shot wide open as a blinding pain shot through my back. It slithered up my spine, my lips parting in a silent scream. My body shook with sobs that could not escape my mouth.

Many have doubts. They are the ones who made the right decision, but they aren't sure if they did. They wander aimlessly through life, trying to pull themselves together. They fight so hard, but sometimes they forget what they're fighting for. They barely keep themselves afloat, sometimes they get dragged under. They get lost, the lose all sense of direction, they forget which way is up which way is down, or which way home is.

I trembled as a light glared down on me, illuminating my tear-stricken face. As the light drew closer, I became sleepier. My eyes drooped, my arms and legs grew heavy, and my head bobbed up and down as I fought for consciousness. When I could fight it no longer, I stopped moving altogether...

There are some of us who just stop fighting. They have no will to go on. They sit around, like a rock in the middle of the road. They block everyone else from moving on, from going anywhere. They are suicidal. They are invisible. They are lonely. If no one is there to pick them up, they fall, they break, they die.

I opened my eyes. Lifted my paws. My heart wasn't beating, no. I was long gone. But I still fought. I still urged myself to cry out for help, this time I needed it. I could not fight this alone, and I was strong enough to admit it. Tears carved their way down my face, staining my fur. If I left, if I drowned, they would miss me. I wouldn't be alone though. They would always be there for me, and I knew it. I was tough, I was strong, I was alive. I may be dead, I may be gone, but I'm not alone. I'm not dead. I didn't float through life, I didn't give up. Sure, I made some bad decisions. Sure, I took a wrong turn a few times. But I got right back up and continued to fight. I survived…

And then there are those of us who pick ourselves up. We pull ourselves to our feet, we fight back even harder. We do not give up, we do not back down. This is our life, and we live it how we want to. No one controls us, no one stops us, no one hurts us. We have scars of the past, pain in our eyes, but our hearts are whole; even though they are fractured.

We are the survivors…