I’m going to sit here and write in this thing like a teenage girl spilling her secrets to a bunch of paper. I’m not convinced this is going to go anything for me, but what else is there to do? Laying here in this damn bed, my brain going crazy from being completely useless. Miguela did everything she could to sew up the gunshot wound in my side, and though I know I’m not out of the woods yet, I’m laying here sleepless because she worked so hard. Her and Henry, as much as I’m loathe to put a label to him, helped me more than anyone has in my entire life. Even before the world seemed to end, my family never was the kind of people who bothered to help much.

Brad is nearby, I can hear him breathing in the dark, his hand was in mine just a second ago. What am I doing? Falling in love now, when the world is torn to hell. Miguela said something to me before he got here. She told me that this was when you loved. You made memories, and you lived. I was stunned by it. Had I fallen in love with this man in such a short period of time? My every thought was consumed, my heart flutters when I hear his voice, and every single time he touches me my stomach does flips. Is this love? Is that what this is? How do you love someone completely knowing tomorrow you could lose them? Knowing that every day things like going for food at the corner, or making a run to the grocery store now means that you wade through dangers, bullets, and zombies? I don’t know how to handle this new feeling, or how to deal with it…or how to tell him. Maybe the drugs will help, maybe the pain killers Henry went and fetched for me will loosen my tongue.

Now, as I lay still in the dark, trying not to move so I don’t twist my insides loose of the stitches, all I can think about is my new life here. I’ve been running for so long, hiding from the things I’ve done, from the people I failed. I came here and I didn’t want to stay, or to fit in, I know that. Yet here I am, a job at the garage, though I’m sure that guy will have my head the next time he sees me, and now a family at the Eights. Now that I think about it, they are my family, Darla, Pepe, even Eins…though he gives me the creeps. Jeremy too, though I’m sure I’ll just keep calling him Chuckles. It seems I owe that guy a crap load, seeing as he’s apparently going to be paying Miguela for the work she did on me…though I refuse to think that woman would have let me die simply because no payment had been offered. Then there’s him…Brad…and I’m terrified. I’m scared of losing myself to him, I’m scared of relying on him….I’m scared of losing him most of all.

Alright, I think those pills are kicking my ass now. I’m going to lay down, and try to get some sleep. Plenty of time to worry about all of this in the morning…I hope.

–Honey–