January 15th

Posted: January 15, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

They found two more zombies when they did the neighbourhood sweep. The recovery team insisted that Andrew and I stay inside, so the boss missed me yesterday, but understood. At least my kitchen window got fixed. Must remember to pick up a new knife the next time I do a grocery shop.

Andrew ended up asking if this happens very often. I guess my quickness to destroy that zombie’s brain gave him the impression that I was used to being interrupted, but I’ve only ever had to deal with Mother. I didn’t exactly tell it like that – I skirted the details of the only other creature I’ve had to kill – and assured him it had been a while since the last breach.

There must have been something in my voice, because he seemed to know already that I’d lost someone I knew during the last attack. Before I even knew what I was doing, I spilled my guys about losing Rick, who despite his title as my therapist was pretty close to the only friend I really had. I had to tell Andrew that the therapy was forced by Mother, and that I just kept going when she died because she would have wanted me to. Everything got really personal, really soon. I eventually shut up and slumped into the couch in the living room, feeling like I’d just dumped way too much on my guest; I didn’t think it was likely that he’d be back again after he was cleared to leave by the recovery team.

To my surprise, Andrew sat next to me – close enough that our legs and shoulders were touching. He was still warm from helping cart window supplies around. He slung his arms around my shoulders and gently pulled me to his chest. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry – no one was allowed to see me cry. No one had seen me cry since I was too young to remember. Even when I cried after stabbing that knife through Mother’s head, I cleaned the tears off my face before the recovery team arrived.

He held me there for a long time, although gently, so if I wanted to pull back, I could. I didn’t want to, though. I was content to stay there. It felt safe. I felt hidden from danger, and content that someone else had entered my life.

A knock at the door was what separated us after a few short minutes of sitting in silence. I answered cautiously (which was kind of silly, because zombies don’t knock on doors) to find the recovery team was there to report that they had finished their sweet of our quadrant, and only 3 threats needed to be neutralized. They went through the usual cautionary speech about making sure to take precautions like locking doors and windows, and thanked me for calling them in a timely matter. The part of the barricade that had been breached was repaired, and we were free to go about our business. I thanked them and watched them pile into their truck with three large lumps covered in stained blankets heaped in the back. I went through my ritual of checking all the locks before settling back down on the couch next to Andrew.

I let him know the coast was clear, but didn’t push him to go. I assumed he had places to be, although I now realize that I don’t know if he has a job. To my concealed delight, he didn’t immediately jump to his feet to leave. Instead, he started to tell some of his story. I’ve been going over and over it in my brain since I left him on the couch and crawled into bed, but I don’t think I’m ready to commit it to paper just yet.



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