Keep running. That’s all I tell myself. Watch out. That’s all I keep thinking. Keep your family close. That’s all I wish for. People screeching, babies bawling, I sprinted past my school and took cover by a nearby car. I recall how just last week I baked chocolate chip cookies. It’s unfeasible to think about how the world’s changed. How did this virus even start? Who will stop it? Stop over-thinking. I glance to my left and see my mother crouching beneath a broken advertisement. I gaze at an endless line of traffic, clothes scattered on the road, and broken fences. I don’t remember the last time I ate something. I frantically ask everyone around me if they have any food they’re willing to spare. No. That was the only answer I got. No. No. No.
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At least I think it is. I’ve been trying to keep track. The 17 of us are currently on our way to Washington. I can tell my mom is drained and ready to give up. You can tell by the way she walks, talks, and acts. I don’t know if she can cope with this any longer. Every direction we walk, every move we make, every sound we make, we have to be careful. There hasn’t been a day since this whole thing began where I haven’t killed one of them. Walkers. I’m not exactly sure what they even are but I know for a fact they’re dead. We all haven’t had a good night’s rest in a while. Something good happened yesterday, for once. Elijah went out on a ‘run.’ That’s when someone goes out to try and find resources. Surprisingly, he found a cross bow, filthy and fragmented, but we managed to make it work. I still don’t feel safe. Neither do the 17 of us who are left. Yesterday we had 18. But earlier today, we lost Martha. I didn’t cry. I’ve taught myself not to cry anymore. It seems that my feelings disappeared along with everyone’s …show more content…
She fell asleep without her knife clutched by her side. It was her fault. No one is to blame. Maybe she deserved to die. It’s now the survival of the fittest. She was bound to die. I don’t cry. After all I’ve seen and done, this hardly affects me at all. No tears stream down my fragile eyes. She was consumed by a pack of walkers. I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry, I couldn’t. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, nothing can ever protect me from what’s out there. Wailing, whimpering, sobbing, my mother’s closest friend, Claudia, falls to the ground beside me. She’s weaker than me. Now we’ll have no support. I miss crying. I miss the tears running down my face. I miss how your tears well up in your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. I miss everything. It’s getting harder but slowly I’m getting used to it. My chances of living are getting smaller and smaller, but through these lessons I learn more about life. I know we’re not all going to make it and I’m fully prepared to lose anyone and anything close to me. Tomorrow is going to be a challenge, a new day, but the rest of us can only survive if we stay
At least I think it is. I’ve been trying to keep track. The 17 of us are currently on our way to Washington. I can tell my mom is drained and ready to give up. You can tell by the way she walks, talks, and acts. I don’t know if she can cope with this any longer. Every direction we walk, every move we make, every sound we make, we have to be careful. There hasn’t been a day since this whole thing began where I haven’t killed one of them. Walkers. I’m not exactly sure what they even are but I know for a fact they’re dead. We all haven’t had a good night’s rest in a while. Something good happened yesterday, for once. Elijah went out on a ‘run.’ That’s when someone goes out to try and find resources. Surprisingly, he found a cross bow, filthy and fragmented, but we managed to make it work. I still don’t feel safe. Neither do the 17 of us who are left. Yesterday we had 18. But earlier today, we lost Martha. I didn’t cry. I’ve taught myself not to cry anymore. It seems that my feelings disappeared along with everyone’s …show more content…
She fell asleep without her knife clutched by her side. It was her fault. No one is to blame. Maybe she deserved to die. It’s now the survival of the fittest. She was bound to die. I don’t cry. After all I’ve seen and done, this hardly affects me at all. No tears stream down my fragile eyes. She was consumed by a pack of walkers. I couldn’t save her. I’m sorry, I couldn’t. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, nothing can ever protect me from what’s out there. Wailing, whimpering, sobbing, my mother’s closest friend, Claudia, falls to the ground beside me. She’s weaker than me. Now we’ll have no support. I miss crying. I miss the tears running down my face. I miss how your tears well up in your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. I miss everything. It’s getting harder but slowly I’m getting used to it. My chances of living are getting smaller and smaller, but through these lessons I learn more about life. I know we’re not all going to make it and I’m fully prepared to lose anyone and anything close to me. Tomorrow is going to be a challenge, a new day, but the rest of us can only survive if we stay