Day One - It’s the end of the world, I think.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god. I'm hiding. I've got a kitchen knife clenched in one hand, pen in the other, and I'm hiding.

I can hear the screams of others in the distance, the sound of tearing flesh, the shuffling bodies in the undergrowth just outside of the door. I don't understand what's happening. How everything has changed so quickly. 

Blood pouring from his mouth.

Flesh being ripped from her throat.

Tears flowing.

Anguished words renting the air.

Rain is lashing down outside, lightning and thunder keep making me jump every time it happens. My hands are shaking so much I'm not sure I'm going to be able to ever even read this back. If I'm even still alive to read this back.

My mum is dead.

My dad killed her.

I had to kill him.

Tears are falling down my face and splashing on the page, that's going to make it even harder to read than just the shaking hands. I can already see the ink spreading.

I keep thinking I'm going to have a panic attack, I'm amazed I haven't yet. Every time I start, something makes me jump again, forcing me to stay in the now, which is probably going to cause me to have a heart attack, I forgot to bring my anxiety meds wih me, so a heart attack would probably be a blessing. 

Although, we might actually be in the end of the world. After all those shows I've watched, the books I've read, the films I've been to see, with zombies, I just never actually thought it would happen.

If that is what has happened, fuck knows, maybe it's just some.... I dunno... Some sort of fucked up rabies for humans?

I'm laughing to myself now, human rabies, yeah ok, and I've grown wings and turned into a fucking fairy.

After I'd killed my dad....

I...

I stabbed him in the back of the head. I remembered that much from the shows. I went on auto pilot then. When we had the floods last year, we were advised to make sure we had a bag packed and ready to go at all times, the essentials packed and ready. A disaster bag they call it. 

Hearing the screams outside I ignored them. I went and grabbed the bag. 

All three of the bags actually.

Then I started throwing in all the extra food I could. 

Someone started banging on the door.

Screaming at me to let them in. Screaming for anyone to help them. Begging and pleading.

Then the screams changed.

High pitched and primal.  

Ignoring it all I carried on packing. Grabbing my jacket from the floor where I'd thrown it the night before, I slung it over my shoulder and start piling myself with the bags. Trying to make them comfy, already sagging under the weight of the three of them. Moving to the front door, I went to unlock it, before realising I didn't have anything to protect myself with, I went back, grabbed the big kitchen knife, and then went back to the door.

I opened it slowly, one inch at a time to make sure there was nothing there. 

A sob caught in the back of my throat.

Mrs Fry was on the porch, her throat and stomach torn apart. A bloodied mess bundled in her arms, a bit of the pink blanket was still showing through. 

Trying to keep the vomit down, I swallowed repeatedly, the acidic taste burning my throat, bringing water to my eyes. 

Closing the door behind me, I locked it up tight, hoping I would be back there one day. Looking around the roads were awash with blood, but I couldn't see anything else moving around me. There were a few curtains twitching, but no one offered a hand. No one opened the doors. No one even waved.

Looking for where my dad had parked the car, I walked towards it, hoping I could remember the way to the cabin. 

That's when I heard the cry from behind me.

I turned and noticed the bloodied bundle starting to move. 

Her baby was still alive.

I went to the car and put the bags in, climbed into the driver's side and closed all the doors.

I even put the key in the ignition and started the car.

Then I jumped out, ran and grabbed the baby, bundled the blanket from the back of the car in the footwell of the passenger side, and placed the baby there.

Then I got back in the car, and drove here.

I wished I could have kept my eyes closed on the journey. I'm not ready to talk about where I saw yet. 

The sites were.

They.......

I just vomited. 

The baby has started grizzling. What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? I should have left her.

Oh fuck.

Someone's banging on the door.

Shit.