I divide my life in certain important events. At eleven I got sick. At twelve my disease was cured. At thirteen I got my first period. At the beginning of my fourteenth year I got a new best friend. In the middle of it I fell in love with her, and at the end, I lost her. This is how I've always done it. I'm not a good organizer, so it just seems easier to have it this way. Though I wasn't prepared for what would happen during the year I turned 16.
I love my sister. I always have, and always will. We've spent our entire lives together, and even if we do quite often fight, we still are there for each other. Always. It was only natural that we kept together when the infection started to spread. Our stephfather was already gone; all I remember was that he fell ill when we were at dad's, and that mom came storming in through our front door tha next night. She'd hit him in the head with a frying pan, grabbed my baby brother in her armes and run over to our house as fast as she could. She was extremely upset, and I understand her. She didn't know what was happening, and she thought that she had just killed her husband.
She hadn't. Later we found out that he had gone on an infection spree – 12 victims, 4 who didn't make it. I wished that none of them had. I wish that all of this was a nightmare, that none of it was real. I wish that we didn't have to carry butcherknives and guns to guarantee our safety. I wish that we never lost mom and dad.
I think we both took it equally hard. She showed it with tears; she had been crying for two days straight, while I had grabbed her arm and ran to safer places. I kept it inside, tried to be strong, for her sake. I couldn't brake down, because if I did, there was no chance in hell that we would make it. And hell was really damn close now, I tell you.
I kept my faith though. I even think that this had made it stronger. I prayed every day, ever time that I could, and asked God to save us. To save her. I would do anything for her, anything to keep her safe. I'd kill our parents, if it would save her. I'd kill myself for her sake.
We've been on the run for almost a year. I think that my 17th birthday is in a week, or so. Or it has already been, we've pretty much lost track of time. We have more important things to focus on.
How to stay alive, for example. But I'm pretty sure that it's november now, the snow has been falling for a few days. It makes things a lot harder, because it isn't cold enough; the snow that falls down melts during the day, on freezes over night. We have to keep inside, can't take risks outside, we'll have to wait 'til the snow layer gets thicker. Ice is too dangerous, too slippery. But there aren't any foot prints near our safe place, and that's a good sign. Means they haven't found us yet.
I've met so many people during these last months. So many faces that I'll never see again, so many friends lost. I have been forced to kill one. It is one of the hardest things that I've ever done. It was during the summer, middle july, I think. We two had been out, to restock our supplies. We were a pretty small group then, but I don't remember how many. We brought as much food as we could bring without losing too much speed, but something got wrong on the way home. They came in a big group as always, but I managed to trow our packages off and run away, taking her with me. Stick together, that was the policy for all survivors.
We made it into my old abandoned school, but from the moment we got there I knew something wasn't right. The fear in her eyes made me lose hope. She was afraid; my mentor, the one who'd given me strength to not give up. The bitemark on her arm seemed to radiate, and I just wanted to run away and not have to deal with this. I was not strong enough.
I was by her side until the disease took over completely. She had made me swear to make sure that she wouldn't be able to hurt someone – in other words, she had instructed me to finish her off with a shot to the head. And she'd given me weapon; her fucking AK-5C.
I emerged to the other end of the school after it was done, tried to hide from all the guilt in my old home class room. I knew that this was what she had wanted, but I could help but feeling like I'd let her down. I had killed her. You think that I would've gotten used to it by now, and yes, I had, but this time it was different. To me, all those others weren't human. They were faceless monsters, and it was up to me to either kill or get killed. She hadn't been faceless. And I had painted her face red.
I cried my eyes out that evening. I didn't dare to get back to the group until hours after; suddenly, when she was gone, all of this was so much more frightnening. I wouldn't make it. I couldn't make it. I'm just a little piece of dirt on this shitty planet, and it wouldn't matter if I got turned to.But to one person it would, and I couldn't let her down. I can't give her the right to do the same to me.
That feels like such a long time ago now. Our group doesn't exist anymore. Some of them got infected, and the rest got separated. I don't know where they are or if they're alive. It's only us two now. Me and my sister. And I will fight tooth and nail, with all that is me, to make sure that we will make it trough this. We will stick together.