**Disclaimer: Mi-Hyun’s journal is entirely from her IC perspective, where she deals with her innermost conflicts and emotions. It is where she gets them out. It can be intense and emotional, because that is how Mi-Hyun is under the surface. Keep in mind she has her own trauma and triggers from the world too. None of it is intended to be meant or taken OOC. I like to fully immerse myself into my character and her world, so this is one way to do it. I very much like realistic, deep and detailed RP and storylines. Especially with it’s own drama and multiple layers. Characters and their imperfections.
Mi-Hyun’s Journal is written in an old diary by hand. She often leaves it with her things where ever she stores them. If anyone ever wants to get a hold of it or go through her things, IM me and let me know.
Knowing someone’s innermost thoughts can be a double edged sword though, since her journal does not have the same politeness or sugar coating Mi-Hyun does! It is literally an open book to the world through her eyes. And it is sometimes funny, and sometimes cruel, but it is all Mi-Hyun. The diary also reflects her current state of mind and psychological health, which is something I am keeping track of along with her physical health. I keep track of everything on my characters. It adds a new layer for me to consider her mental health condition along with her physical health condition.**
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Oᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ 2ɴᴅ, Fɪʀsᴛ Cᴏɴᴛᴀᴄᴛ.
~I moved inland.
I found some city ruins. Came across some womans clothing while scavenging. Most of it was too big. There was a nice poncho though. It helped with the cold.
I found a burning car. Warmed up. Dried out a little.
I’m hypothermic. I’m exhausted. All my things are wet. I’m grieving.
I found an ambulance. I checked it. No EMT bags. No paramedic kits. No first aid boxes. Not even a crash cart.
There were signs around town. They said go to the hospital for help. I am not stupid though. Could be a trap. Going to recon first. Can’t afford to make mistakes.
I saw people. The way they moved. Their clothes. The purposeful direction in their walk. Not infected. But are they friendly?
I decided to move closer to peek in the hospital windows. I couldn’t see anything. But the lights were on and shelves were stocked. I closed my eyes for a moment.
When I opened them I saw a man in a US Marine uniform.
I thought it was John.
I was so exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. I was so surprised and shocked I became confused. Dazed. Hope filled me. Relief. I think I tried to hug him? I remember all I wanted to do was run to him and fall apart in his arms.
To hear him tell me it would be okay.
But it wasn’t John. It was a man in a mask, with a gun aimed at me, threatening me.
He was afraid of me.
He wore the uniform of a Marine, but his conduct, his actions, his behavior…
His unprofessionalism and lack of training in how to handle situations like these… Like me…
Like drawing guns on hypothermic, shivering little unarmed girls and threatening to murder them when they are confused and on the verge of tears…
A man who did not recognize what I was doing. Needing me to explain to him basic recon and why i did not want to go into a unknown place without at least looking in a window first so I did not blunder into a possible ambush or trap blind.
It was no Marine.
It wasn’t John.
Despite my confusion… My condition… I had to talk him down like talking down a kid with a gun.
These new private militias… Think that just because they can be fancy with a gun, know a little about them, and like to point them at people and threaten them makes them soldiers…
They are nothing more than bullies with power complexes. Black Water all over again.
And it’s the innocents who suffer. Civilians. People unable to defend themselves from these untrained, undisciplined gunmen.
He almost murdered me. I bet he never even took the oath.
If he ever served, I could only imagine it was dishonorably.
I miss real soldiers. The ones that protected us. Made us feel safe. Took care of us. Understood us.
Soldiers like John. He would have died to protect us. He was always a shield. And he never complained. He never used his strength, power or knowledge to hurt innocents.
He was always in control. First and foremost of himself.
He lost his temper sometimes… And he could be aggressive… It’s true… But he was never violent to others except in self defense. And even then, he just took hits sometimes without hitting back to avoid a larger fight. No one scared him. Not even the undead. I know the military sent him to kill people, but they were bad.
He took the offensive with the zombies, of course, but they are not… Natural. Not human or animal. They have no life, no sentience to consider.
And most of all, I never saw John use what he had to bully people. He wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t evil…
He wasn’t perfect either. He did do some things he regretted… He told me about them… Wanted absolution… It was one of the reasons he left the Corps to get a job at private security in the civilian sector.
And I know Marines do questionable things… In war zones.
Most of the Marines I knew were young men still. Enlisted straight out of school. Young. Without much life experience.
This man in a mask was just a boy. A mask doesn’t hide your behavior. Your actions.
But he would have murdered me still. No compassion. No emotion. No mercy. No humanity. To him I was just like a zombie. My life had no meaning to him.
Upon seeing me, his first and only instinct and course of action was to immediately use lethal force and threaten to kill me. Despite my condition. Not caring. Not thinking.
Just like the deadheads.
First thinking he was a Marine like my John… My hopes that it was him…
Then the sudden destruction of those hopes… And to find it was just a masked psychopath in the uniform of a once proud and honorable establishment.
Is nothing sacred? Is there no honor left in the world? Is this what people are now? Monsters profaning what once was good? The Marines protected us.
But now to see a man to wear their uniform and threaten an unarmed, sick, traumatized little girl.
Like he was afraid of me. Like murder and lethal force was the only thing he knew.
Most murderers are cowards though.
Men like that shouldn’t have guns. They are more dangerous to us than the zombies.
I wasn’t afraid of him though. Not like I am the deadheads. I sighed as I talked him down.
Like I was his mother.
The whole experience sapped what little strength I had left.
Having to be strong for others, keep control of the situation, manage people who can’t control themselves…
And in my condition… I deserve a damn medal!
A masked man in a Marine’s uniform. First Responding to unarmed civilians who need help with threats of lethal force and drawn guns.
If I were his mother I would slap the shit out of him.
If he was in any Marine company I ever knew they would have slapped the shit out of him and taught him about proper protocols, escalation, how to handle encounters with both hostile and non-hostile people, threat assessment, and the right way to handle situations which include those that do not involve immediately grabbing your gun and waving it around like a gangster.
They would have taught him responsibility and discipline.
He did all but turn it sideways.
Maybe I would have been scared then.
Marines were men. Not boys.
This boy only seemed to know how to point his gun and shout like he has some kind of authority or command.
Egotistical idiot with a power complex trying to self glorify and project himself on others.
My English teachers would be proud.
While the masked psychopath held a gun at me, another man walked by, saying and doing nothing about the situation.
Just leaving me there. Cold, wet, shivering. A little girl with a psycho pointing a gun at me.
And he did not even care. Did not even try to help.
Is he as bad as the masked man? Is this place ran by criminals?
I could see a syndicate like the Yakuza or Mafia taking over an island.
If that’s the case… I am getting out of here. By land or by sea.
I hate criminals. I hate psychopaths. I hate bullies, murderers, and rapists.
I hate them more when they make a mockery of what once was good.
Don’t humans know that with the zombies out there now, we need each other more than ever?
Breath.
Pranayama.
It helps to let it all out here. My feelings. The poison. The pain.
Yoga’s not enough anymore. Not for this.
It still hurts so much inside. I used to be able to go to John. Have him to talk to.
Now… All I have is this.
John, please come back.
I need my soldier. My samurai.
I was never as strong as you thought I was. I was strong because I had you.
I was strong because you believed in me. I suppose that is selfish.
But I was always there for you. Strong or not. I was always your butterfly.
Semper fidelis. 항상 충실. Always faithful.
After an eternity I opened the door and went into the hospital.
I met Doctor K. She told me to leave my knives with the door man.
The door man stared at me creepily.
After my encounter with the gunman outside, and the man who walked by uncaring of the crime, it makes me nervous.
Are all the men here like that? Guns out and brains off? Not caring? Not helping?
I don’t want to live in a warzone.
I’m from the South, not the North.
I don’t even know where the good guys are. I don’t even know where to go for help. Where are the real Marines when you need them?
Where are you John?
The lady, Doctor K, seemed nice though. Sincere.
The signs were genuine. This is the first good news I had since washing up here.
I talked to her a little. I think I was rambling. A little delirious. I think I told her more than I intended.
She mentioned a job though.
If the hospital is serious about helping people… If the hospital does really want to do good… I can get behind that. I can do that.
I’ve worked in military hospitals. I’ve worked in civilian hospitals.
Though my past in the medical field has been on and off… Which is why I never became a full doctor… I have always enjoyed it.
Are people like me so rare?
Is it because I was raised in Korea?
I like helping people. I have experience, wisdom, knowledge, and training in the field. I even understand the psychological as well as the biological. I am good at working with people. I am reliable. Dependable. A hard worker.
As a nurse, a mother, and a faithful wife. As a good friend.
I would be good here… But would it be good for me?
I want to be honest. I want to trust.
I am not sure if it is safe though.
Even the doctor told me to trust no one.
It might be safer to hide some aspects of my past. To lie.
Play to my strengths as a woman.
The men certainly seem to be playing to theirs with brute strength.
God, I can not help but think of how women are treated in China.
Please don’t let that happen here.
People and places like the hospital need experienced individuals now more than ever. People with compassion. People with kindness. people who want to help.
Both for people with injuries in the body and in the mind.
People like me.
And a masked gunman would have murdered me already if I had not talked him down.
If I work in the hospital… I can also keep an eye on things… Get to know people… And be here if John or the kids find their way here.
Maybe they will protect me.
I think I’ll do it. I will have to learn how they do things. What they want me to do.
Where they want me to focus my talents.
I miss music. I miss dancing. I miss when people were… Happy.
I made a joke to the psycho in the mask. One like John would make.
He laughed.
Maybe I should try to swallow my revulsion and see if I can make them like me.
If he is just a kid…
Well…
Who else would help him?
Who else would teach him?
Damn it…
Fuck you maternal instincts. Fuck you!
But I am not baking any pies!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wait it’s October?
Thanksgiving is next month…
Fuck you maternal instincts!
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