Days 148-163: Ava

Within the first two weeks, I had walked back to the city, not knowing where I should go. When I got there I headed over to the hotel and slept there. I couldn’t find the strength to do anything… Without Leo there, everything felt hopeless. Even though I was the one to leave I felt horrible. This feeling was similar though; it was like hearing about the end of the world again. Where nothing mattered and all I could do was lay down and cry. But I couldn’t—not this time. I need to hold myself together, so Leo won’t have to worry when we meet again. Still, doubt creeps in. Will he even make it to that point? What if... what if he gives up before then?

What if he tries killing himself?! I have to go back!

It’s only been like two weeks so he’s probably still there. But I can’t think, going back would cause even more problems. I have to stay true to my word. I was worried though, I had to go check up on him.

I’ll just be really sneaky, he won’t notice me there.

But I hit a wall—I didn’t have a ride.

There has to be a dealership somewhere here in the city. I can’t bear to walk anymore.

I took out my map and saw that there was a dealership. Only problem was that it was across the city.

It’s fine, this is for Leo after all.

After what feels like an eternity of walking I finally reached the dealership. It was empty with only a few cars remaining. I scanned the lot for something practical. The minivan caught my eye—roomy enough for my gear. Now came the hard part: finding the keys. After what felt like hours digging through drawers and cabinets, I finally found a locked box full of them. I grabbed all of them hoping one of them could be the one for the minivan. And one of them was. Only problem now was that there was no way out. An idea came to mind. I got in a random car and drove through the glass making an exit for my car. It was kind of dangerous but oddly fun.

Time to get back to the motel.

I hurried back there and came to see that there was no white van in the front.

Shit, is he okay?!

After parking the car, I rushed in. The room was empty, but it had a foul stench. Looking around I couldn't find anything. Not even the note I had left. I seemed like Leo had already left. I went back into my car and just sat there, feeling empty. The hope that had carried me all this way collapsed in an instant. I’d been holding on to the idea of seeing him again—of things maybe going back to how they were. But he was gone. I felt hopeless without him.

What else can I do now? Everything feels so wrong…

I drove back to the hotel and just sat there, staring. Until now, Leo was my reason to keep going. But with him gone, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to waste the little time I had left just waiting—but nothing else felt worth doing. I thought about my old life: all studying, all work, no joy. I used to think I wanted to be a doctor, but that was about money, not passion. Was there anything I ever truly cared about?

I thought about it over the next few days and nothing came to mind. My life wasn’t all that interesting—well, besides the end of the world—but even before that, it had been pretty mediocre. Some may say I accomplished a good amount but even with all of those accomplishments I was never truly happy. It got me thinking about the novels I had read, all of the characters live such a fulfilling life. All of them had goals, I was envious of them. I decided to drive back to the bookstore so I could read more. For a moment, those stories let me forget how dull my life had been. But every time I turned the final page, the emptiness came rushing back.

I wish I could have a fulfilling life like them.

Days went by and I was cooped up in the bookstore, reading every series I could get my hands on. The characters felt real—flawed, full of life. I saw myself in them, even when their stories were nothing like mine. It got me thinking that it would be nice for me to make something this wonderful. Stories gave me something I didn’t know I needed—an escape, a mirror. I wanted to offer that to someone else someday.

I read a book that was about a boy who had only one year left to live. He didn’t face the end of the world like we did—just the end of his world. A terminal illness. But he chose joy anyway. He made friends and made movies with them. Something about his story stirred me—something I didn’t have words for, but it stuck with me. But he inspired me, he inspired me to try and find something I loved. And at that moment I loved reading, I loved hearing about stories. And I want to create my own story. Maybe one day I’ll write something that could move Leo to tears—the way that boy’s story moved me.

I finally knew what I could do with those two months to myself. I’ll try to start writing. I’m done living for someone else. Living for someone can place a heavy burden on them so I don’t want that, not after seeing all the pain Leo was in for my sake. I want to live for joy—for the small things that make life worth it. Like that boy from the book, I’ll try to find something I enjoy all the way till the end. Hopefully writing is something I'm good at.

Over the next few days I attempted to write a story, but with no success. Any time I would try to think of some, my mind would drift away and I would start to worry about Leo. Worry spiraled into panic, and panic blurred into missing him. It made sense for me to worry about him but it felt kind of excessive. Was I attached to him? I never thought I’d be the type to get overly attached to a person but I guess here I am. Maybe this break is something we both need.

Damn this is embarrassing.

I thought about the ways I could get over him but how could you get over the person you love. It wasn’t like we were broken up but at the same time—I wanted to not think about him 24/7. It was too much thinking so I needed to get some fresh air. I grabbed a gun, just in case, and headed out for a walk.

All this Leo and writing stuff is giving me a headache.

The sun was out, the air warm—one of those rare, perfect days.

I’m so tired of thinking. Maybe I’ll just sleep for a week straight or something.

Footsteps echoed behind me. Someone was following. I ran around the corner and pulled out my gun waiting for this person. The footsteps got faster, it seemed like they were trying to chase. But then when they turned the corner they were met with the end of the barrel of my gun.

“Hey, there.”

“Woah, I—put the gun down. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Then why were you following me?”

“I was just happy to see another survivor here. I wanted to talk.”

Something about her tone wasn’t completely convincing.

She took a step forward, “I swear, I’m not looking for any trouble.”

I pointed the gun at the floor and let off a shot, “Don’t take any step closer. Or the next shot is going to be aimed at you.”

“What can I do to make you believe me?”

I thought about it for a moment.

Do I even want to believe? Even if what she says is the truth there is no need for me to be with another person who may cause me trouble. But at the same time, it has been pretty lonely lately.

“Please I just need a place to stay for a little bit.”

I let out a sigh, “Fine, but drop your weapons—all of them.”

“Uh I don’t have any.”

…

“You can’t be serious.”

“I swear.” She emptied her pockets and lifted her shirt. “See? Nothing.”

I sighed. “Fine. Just follow me.”

I put away my gun and headed back to the bookstore with the girl following me. She looked a little younger than me but she seemed oddly upbeat. On the way back she was humming the entire time.

“You know, for someone out here alone, you’re oddly happy.”

“Well, I’m not completely alone. I have you now,” she said with a smile.

“I guess so but there’s no way you survived here all by yourself without a weapon.”

“I was with a group of friends but when we were attacked we got separated. They said they’ll come back for me and I just need to survive till then.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring to hear.”

“Yeah but they’re my friends so I trust them.”

Her upbeat attitude was oddly comforting. I guess after what had happened I needed some positive energy. At the bookstore, she told me how things went bad in her old city—crime spiking, police giving up. Her group scattered after an attack. That was two months ago. She still believed they’d come back for her. It’s been about two months since she’s been separated yet she still holds on to the hope that they’ll be back for her. I didn’t have the heart to say what I was thinking.

“By the way, I never got your name.”

“It’s Chloe. And you?”

“I’m Ava.”

“So—you decided to live in a bookstore. Interesting idea…”

“Uh no, I’m just here cause I didn’t know what to do after…”

“After?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m here if you want someone to talk to.”

“You know it’s dangerous to be too friendly right?”

“Yeah but you don’t seem like a person that would hurt me.”

“How do you figure that? What if I’m luring you somewhere to hurt you.”

“Just a feeling I guess.”

“That’s going to get you killed one day you know.”

“Maybe but I don’t want to live paranoid and scared. I want what’s left of my life to be freeing and filled with positivity.”

“Naive, don’t you think?”

“It is but that’s just how I want to spend the rest of my life. Enough about me now, what’s your situation like? I can tell you were thinking about something. Could it be a boy?”

I quickly glance away. “No way! It is a boy!”

“We can talk about this later. I actually live at the hotel so let’s head there first.”

“Alright.”

I packed all of my stuff into the car and headed back to the hotel.

“Woah! This place is pretty cozy.”

“Yeah and the water still runs in the bathroom too.”

“Okay, more importantly—spill. What’s up with your boyfriend?”

I told her everything—Leo, the separation, how I realized I was too attached. “I was surprised how easily it all came out. Maybe it was Chloe’s friendliness—or maybe I just missed talking to someone.

“So that’s everything… And now I’m trying to fix whatever that’s wrong with me that made me so attached. But I have no idea what to do.”

“Hmmm, it seems like you’re going in the right direction; so you’re not completely lost.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you left him because it was for the best then you’re doing the right thing. I’m not sure if that came out right. I’m not entirely sure how to word it—sorry.”

“It’s fine. But if you’re right, why do I still feel like crap?”

“I guess you’re relapsing…”

…

“You make me sound like an addict.”

She lets out a quick laugh, “Sorry, I mean that since you’re so used to being around him then it would only make sense for you to miss him. You aren’t overly attached I would say, it’s more like you miss him.”

“Maybe but when I would try to do anything else I would immediately think about him and just doze off worrying about him.”

“Oof, that does sound kind of—attachy.”

“Attachy?”

“Mhm. But, I mean since he’s not here right now you can try to not get as attached. You already took the first step by separating yourself so just try to focus on yourself.”

“I guess but I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you have any hobbies?”

“Not really. Though I’ve been reading a lot lately.”

“Reading is nice. But is there anything you want to do?”

“Well I kind of want to write my own novel. I read this book about a boy who was dying which inspired me to write a novel.”

“So a kid dying gives you inspiration…” Chloe scoots back a bit, “Cool. Cool. Just remind me to not get on your bad side.”

“That description came out wrong.”

“But at least you have something you want to do now.”

“Yeah but every time I would try to write something my mind would wander off to Leo. And I would get nothing done all day.”

“Hm, that is a problem. Guess there's nothing you can do about it right now.”

“Wow, so helpful.”

“I mean I would just say to do random things to distract yourself so you could forget about him but that doesn’t seem too healthy.”

“So what can I do then?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a therapist.”

“Right.”

“But instead of lying around just try to live your life without him for a bit.”

“Isn’t that the same thing as distracting myself.”

“Kinda. But instead of ignoring your emotions, confront them.”

“How would I do that?”

“Just write them down in a journal. Any time I would have a problem I would write it down and think about it later. This helped me a lot growing up so I think it'll help you out too. I saw a few journals in the bookstore we could go back to.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Yeah no problem.”

“You’re supposed to wait for the other person to thank you first, you know.”

“Yeah but I knew you were going to thank me for such a wonderful idea.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And by thanking me could you make some food for us. Us as in you and me. Pretty please.” She had her hands together and she leaned in closer to me.

“Fine, but I only have canned food.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be eating with someone this time so it’ll taste better.”

“Tomorrow we’ll find a journal and something for us to do. Hopefully you can find some inspiration to write a story.”

That night, as I lay in bed, I wondered if writing would really help me find myself—or if I was just looking for another way to escape.