If you find this, please share my story.
I miss him. I can’t believe I said all those awful things. He was hurting, too. I lashed out. I don’t know what I was even thinking, and now it doesn’t matter. He left. He’s gone. You know what’s the dumbest part about it? I don’t even remember the conversation or the months-long build up to that night. Everything from that time seems so weird now.
Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay.
It’s hard to get out of bed each morning. My muscles are sore from hauling water in every day. There’s so much to do each day. I have to keep collecting water, but I have to make time to find food, too. How much longer can I keep this up? At this rate, I’m usually spent by the afternoon.
Something crossed my mind today. I stink. It’s been over a week since I had a shower. To my surprise, there’s still water in the pipes at Mr. Trainer’s house. This leads to a new problem: how do I maintain hygiene in the bunker? I figured I will have to be in that bunker at least a full year before the planet Earth is habitable again. Can I stand my own smell that long? Definitely not.
How many days until the end of the world? I don’t know, but I can see Yama at night. It’s just a bright ball in the night sky now. Is it getting closer? I can’t tell. The day of impact was on the TV but I don’t remember it now. But I know I still have time.
I found the girl again, just outside the bunker door. The girl from a few days ago. She looks the same, only dirtier and maybe even more frightened. All she said was “hello” before opening a bag. I didn’t move, except to pull out my knife. She knows where I live now, and my first instinct was to stab her. I didn’t want anyone to know where I was. I can’t believe that was my first thought!
She asked for help and placed the bag in front of me. It was full of food, and a lot of it. She backed away with her hands above her head. She had what I needed, and I have what she needs: shelter. I hope I won’t regret allowing her to live with me here. She cried when she came inside and I showed her where she could sleep.
With two of us here, our water and food needs are doubled. We came to a quick agreement. We could work together to survive if we could be honest with each other. I informed her of the dire situation in the bunker: water was not a problem, but we needed so many other supplies. She told me about the raiders in town. They were here to stay, and had been awful to her. The girl flinches whenever I walk by. I hope that goes away. Not that I’m trying to make her move on from some serious trauma. I just feel so bad for her! She shouldn’t – no one should – have to deal with that.
We only just met. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t trust her. We’re sleeping in separate corners of the bunker. I turned the lights down low – both to preserve electricity in the batteries and to let her get some rest – while I’m recording this entry, and I can hear her behind me. She’s not sleeping. I can’t imagine anyone will get rest tonight. But I have to admit, it’s comforting to know there’s another person in here with me.