No

I’m not doing too good. I'm trying to stay awake. I'm trying to keep my mind working.

I returned home. When the whooping stopped and the Old Man said it was safe.

Maricel was gone. There didn’t appear to be any signs of a struggle but it would be tough to tell anyway as the house might’ve cleared it.

She didn’t leave a note. It was as if she was never there. Even the squirrel was gone.

Just like that, I’m alone again.

After sitting and thinking, I decided to leave the house. Probably for good, to find my way out of this place.

I went looking for the Old Man but he wasn’t where I saw him last. His little shack was gone. So, I went back to the grocery store instead. Seemed like a good place to springboard for exploring.

It was still empty. So I took the opportunity to look around. I had already looked about the aisles, filled to the brim with products whose labels I couldn’t make heads or tails of and with brands that looked vaguely familiar but…off.

I finally found a door on the far end of the store. The only one out of here aside from the one that led back to the parking lot. I opened it and on the other side was the hallway of an apartment building. Immediately the first thing that hit me was the smell.

It wasn’t bad. On the contrary. It was…nostalgic. Reminded me of when my dad and I lived together in our apartment. Whiffs of everyone’s cooking. Hints of perfume, cologne. The musk of cigarette smoke. The occasional bark of a dog or meow of a cat.

Then the bitter memories of mom leaving us and taking everything flooded my mind. Memories that I didn’t want to have.

I’m getting off track. The hallway seemed to stretch on quite a distance. I couldn’t see the end. Doors flanked on either side. The walls were a yellowed smoke-stained white. The doors a dark forest green. The carpet was originally red but with age turned to a maroon tinge.

I walked down the corridor and the “numbers” on the doors were just like in other places: illegible.

I put my ears up to their frames and listened. About the only thing I heard in any of them was the muted sound of someone working in the kitchen. Humming a metallic tune.

It was after checking the fourth door that I noticed there was a kid, a boy maybe eight years old, standing there looking at me.

He had a feral look to him. As if he had seen some serious stuff and was no longer the same. There was no innocence in those eyes.

I don’t know how long he was standing there watching me. But when I tried to talk to him, he purposely walked over to a nearby fire alarm, pulled it and then disappeared into one of the apartments.

One by one the apartment doors opened in response. What came out, I wasn't prepared for.

Too many, couldn't fight. Everything happened so fast. All I saw were impossible bodies with limbs that ended in sharp objects. I was cut off from the grocery store door so I ran down the hall as fast as I could.

It was a gauntlet. I had to cover my face and eyes as every door I passed by I was slashed or poked at. I knew I had to stay standing, had to stay moving. If I fell...

I don't know how long I ran but every step was agony. Adrenaline was probably the only thing keeping me going. It's probably the only thing keeping me going now.

The corridor finally ended and there was a door. Thank God there was a door. I rammed through it not caring what was on the other side. I guess should have.

I entered a room that was dark grey and completely featureless. I mean nothing. Four walls, a floor and a ceiling. Nothing else. Save for the body bag that was slumped in one of the corners. The door I came through isn't there anymore.

There's no way out. Not that I can see anyway, and it reeks of death. How it's illuminated without any lights...I don't know.

I'm bleeding a lot. I tried to take care of what I could with the first aid kit but there is only so much I can do and there are some wounds I can't reach.

I have to stay awake. I have to keep thinking.

I wonder where Maricel is? Is she alright?

I'm starting to get cold.

I'm starting to get thirsty.

I have to---------------------------

Mom, what made you do it? Did you love it more than Dad? More than you loved me?

When I saw those pictures of you passed around school. Doing those...things. I hated you. Hated what you did to me. To Dad.

I was a kid. I didn't know. What it does to you. What it makes you do. And what you're willing to do to get it again. Nobody can really know what it's like. But they do. Try and quit coffee. See how easy it is. But lie to yourself all the same.

At what point are you even choosing? At what point is the beast within the only one at the steering wheel?

And then you tried. You tried so hard. Reconciliation may have been out of the question, but was it so hard for everyone to forgive at least? To move on? To have closure?

Why was it so hard for me to say those three little words?

I hated you.

I forgive you.

I love you------------------------------------------