Anyone but Keith, who shot me a knowing wink before I went upstairs to change.
May 19th
It doesn't bother me that Keith knows about me and Kristy.
May 20th
It bothers me a little, but only because he's so smug about it.
May 21st
I don't have anything new to write about, so I haven't. Bridget and Paul are inseparable now. They spent the whole day gardening together. Keith worked on making this weird little wall thing to put around it. He wanted to attach bells so that he can tell if a zombie is trying to break into his garden.
May 22nd
We planted our seeds in the garden today. We'd found them at our last house, the one I hoped we'd stay in forever. No idea if they're still good or not. Did you know that seeds aren't good indefinitely? Me neither. The packages said they expired a few months ago, but we're all hoping that's just an estimation. Maybe they'll still be good and we'll have vegetables before July.
Fingers crossed.
May 23rd
Hauled water from the well to the buckets we keep in the kitchen. My shoulders hurt. My back hurts. Everything hurts. I'm going to bed. Good night, Journal.
May 27th
If there's one thing I didn't think I'd ever get used to, it was body odor.
Seriously.
It's everywhere, and I don't just mean amongst the undead. I mean amongst the smells-like-we're-dead.
It took less than a week before I'd gotten used to the way Bridget and Kristy smelled when they were hot, sweaty, and cooped up. Getting used to Paul and Keith has taken longer, but I'm about there, I think.
I don't even think about deodorant anymore, not really. I see it sometimes, in little houses when we're looting, but I never grab it. It's like I can't even stand trying to pretend anymore.
When the infection first began, we all acted like things would be normal again. "If we can just get through today," we'd say, "then we're one day closer to being rescued."
We said that every day and then one day, we stopped.
It's been months now. I think it's safe to say that there is no hope coming for us. None. No one is going to turn the lights back on. No one is going to get the trucks going again. No one is going to nuke the undead or save the entire planet from annihilation.
No one.
And even though I used to wear deodorant and I used to use perfume and I used to try to smell like something better than what I am, I don't do those things anymore.
I can't.
It's not real.
May 28th
Kristy is worried about my sanity.
Sometimes I am, too.
May 29th
When the infection began, we never expected it to be forever. Let’s be honest, though, none of us ever expected it to happen in the first place. I think when something bad happens, something horrific, you have to give yourself some shred of hope that it won’t be forever. If you don’t, you’ll never be able to get through it. You’ll never be able to fight.
If you don’t have hope, you’ll just shrivel up and die because it’s the only thing left for you to do.
None of us did that.
Not until now.
I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of running. I’m tired of waking up and being completely alone. Even when I’m around Kristy, I’m alone. Even when I’m around the whole group, I’m alone. No one knows what’s going on inside my head, but I know they pity me. I’m not so far lost that I can’t see what I’ve become or who I am now.
I’m just a shell.
I walk around like a normal person, doing my chores and helping around the house, but when I don’t think anyone’s looking, that’s when I let myself crack.
That’s when I let myself be broken, the way I really am.
No more hiding.
I’m tired of the apocalypse.
May 30th
One more day.
May 31st
The last day of the month for the group and the last day of everything for me. The last day of eating cold beans and the last day of hauling water and the last day of dealing with things I’d rather just forget.
I never expected to go out this way. I always thought it was wrong to take your own life, but what happens when being alive feels like death? What happens when the only thing holding you together is the hope that things will get better?
What do you do when that glue comes apart?
What do you do when there’s nothing left?
I told Kristy I was coming upstairs to take a nap. I kissed her before I went up, silently announcing our relationship to the group. No one even batted an eye. No one said anything.
Part of me wishes I could talk to Kristy right now. Part of me wishes that I could tell her why I’m doing this, that she’d understand. Part of me wishes she would hold me while I did it. Part of me wishes that she would just take over and do this for me.
Part of me wishes I didn’t have to choose.
But I can’t do this anymore.
I’m tired.
I miss my brother. I miss the real world. I miss knowing that at the end of the day, I have a home to go home to, but I don’t.
I have a bunch of infected people walking around, pretending to be alive. I have death and destruction. I have nothing.
So this is it for me. This is the final chapter.
And for Kristy…I know you’ll read this.
Just know one thing: I love you.
And I’ll miss you always.
Danielle
Author's Note
Stories in a Lost World: Danielle is the second in a 3-part series about roommates Bridget, Kristy, and Danielle. Kristy’s story will be released soon, so make sure to check my author page for details!
Author
L.C. Mortimer loves zombies almost as much as she loves coffee. When she's not on a caffeine-induced writing spree, she can be found stocking up on canned goods for the apocalypse. Mortimer loves reading, playing zombie video games (7 Days to Die is currently her favorite), and spending time with her partner-in-crime: her husband of 10 years.
Other Books by L.C.
Zombie books in the same world as Stories in a Lost World:
The Forgotten
The Dark
Peanut Butter Zombie
The Zombie Runner
Other books by L.C. Mortimer
The Dead of Night
Very Lost and Far Away
Stories in a Lost World: Danielle Page 3