Stranded

by Sarah Goodwin

None of them seem to realise how little it all means. How much of it is window-dressing. Play-acting at being a superior species, somehow apart from the rest of the animal kingdom.

They said my name like it belonged to a thing, a thing that was less than human. A thing they might use and break as easily as if I were a can to be emptied and crushed.

I have learned that there is no justice, aside from what we make for ourselves. There is only survival, and the victor tells the story.