Day Three Hundred and Eighty-Three
Hey Diary,
Fate played its cruel hand again. Bit on the way back from the medical office to the gun store for Serene. It’s not fucking fair.
I tried my best to navigate this fucking wasteland, to keep Serene safe, but it seems like every step I take is shadowed by the looming threat of the infected.
A guy came to the gun store. A walker came up behind him — right behind it. Without thinking, I shot it. Then he shot one. Then… everywhere. Everywhere around us. I fell down, running as much as I could, shooting. Bites all over me. I tried to escape in the car Jackson and I had, but he had it locked.
I heard the man in the gun store scream at the top of his lungs. I ran into the forest and now I’m sitting under a tree writing this. If you are reading this, I am dead.
Goodbye.
Love,
Rochelle
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