Hey! I know it’s been a while. I’m gonna be honest, I forgot about you. After the farm we were always moving, but something happened. Something good, finally. We found a prison. Daddy thinks we can make it into a home. He says we can grow crops in the field, find pigs and chickens, stop running, stop scavenging. Lori’s baby is just about due. She’ll need a safe place when it comes. The rest of us, we just need a safe place to be. I woke up in my own bed yesterday, my own bed in my own room. But I’ve been keeping my backpack. Keeping my gun close. I’ve been afraid to get my hopes up, thinking we can actually stay here.
The thing is, I’ve been starting to get afraid that it’s easier just to be afraid. But this morning, daddy said something, “If you don’t have hope, what’s the point of living?”. So I unpacked my bag and I found you, so I’m gonna start writing in you again. And I’m gonna write this down now because you should write down wishes to make them come true. We can live here. We can live here for the rest of our lives.
The pain doesn’t go away. You just make room for it.
You step outside, you risk your life. You take a drink of water, you risk your life. And nowadays, you breathe and you risk your life. Every moment now, you don’t have a choice. The only thing that you choose is what you’re risking it for.
You have any kids? Did you, I mean? I—Sorry.
Don’t worry about it—Really. I had two kids. Two girls. (Issue 22)
“I just didn’t want anyone to die.”
Too bad. See, you don’t get to do that, to come into somebody’s life, make them care and just check out. I’m staying. The matter is settled.
We took this prison. Its ours. We spilled blood.