Read more of Ella at The End Of The World
After last night, it’s pretty obvious that we aren’t as safe here as we thought. Martin thinks we would better off if we kept moving, but Mary (it feels so weird that there is only one now…) thinks it would be best to try and get to one of the less populated regions, and wait it out. We have three cars between us, and enough supplies to last for a while, so packing up and finding somewhere with less people (and therefore less infected) seems sensible to me, but Martin doesn’t agree, so is in a strop with everyone.
I’m being harsh on him. I know that. He just lost his sister, and he blames himself, but this isn’t just about him anymore, or how he feels, this is about survival.
He’s barely slept. I just held him, as he cried, for hours. Little Mary’s blood still soaked into his shirt, as he just cried. I guess we’re even now.
How fucked up is that? In trying to protect each other, we have to hurt each other. An eye for an eye, a sibling for a sibling. He begged me, as she stumbled towards me, turning into one of them, he begged me not to do it, but we both knew I didn’t have a choice. I wanted a choice, so badly, and now, I think I understand what happened back at Mum’s. I saw her, and I knew she’d never be the same, and more importantly, I knew that I had to keep him safe, that he wouldn’t be able to think straight, when it came to his blood, and that I had to make the hard choice for him, just like he did for me.
I finally understand why he had to break my heart, but I had to break his heart to get there.
He won’t even blame me. I think I want him too, just so I can stop feeling so bad. Watching him tear himself apart, while I’m doing the same internally is too much. He keeps mentioning the fences. He says over and over again that I told him about the fences, and how awful he feels that he didn’t listen to me. It wasn’t his fault. Maybe it was, but maybe it was mine too? I don’t know anymore. I just can’t stand seeing him like this.
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