Louisa.
That's my name.
Something has spread, some kind of disease. But it's killing everybody. And everybody's killing everybody.
I was hungry, lost and scared. But then I found him, and we found others. And who'd have known that these people woul...
Day 1 Hello, I'm Louisa. I found this notepad today but I thought I should call it a diary instead since a lot of weird things will be happening soon. I think it belonged to the nurse who took care of the man I'm with. I know that because there is a description of the patient on the second page but I ripped that out, it says that he was severely shot through the stomach and had to have a four hour surgery. Poor man. I'm just hoping he can help my me find my Momma, and possibly my sister.
Day 7 I've had to change his food bag twice already, the one his tubes are connected to so he won't starve in his coma. Mom took me into work one time (because I want to learn how to be a nurse) so I know how to do a lot of these things. There are about forty stocked up in the cupboard. It's kinda gross, it looks like the pink lemonade I threw up when I drank too much last year. Oh, and by the way, I ate some of the food bag mush this evening for the first time. Just as I thought, it's disgusting.
Day 16 Some people came into the hospital this morning. I heard them whispering while walking up the stairs so I quickly barricaded the door again and hid under the mans bed. They walked past but didn't come in. They were knocking stuff over and rummaging through the cupboards in the other room. I would have gone out and seen if they would help me but this time I was too scared. I was too scared. I am scared. I don't know whether they are still out there or not so I'm staying in the man's room for a while.
Day 23 I find it quite comforting knowing that someone is going to help me. Maybe. Actually, I'm scared he won't wake up. Sometimes when I'm really terrified of the moans and snarls outside, I read some of the books next to his bed. My favourite so far is Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens, oh what I would give to have some of the slop instead of the food bags. I read some to the man this morning, I figured he may be able to hear me. Nothing has changed, I mean, he is in a coma but I would've thought he'd woken up by now. My Grandpa was in a coma and he woke up after five days! Maybe this coma is different.
Day 28 The outside world has changed a lot over the past month. People have come and gone, those limping people too, they came in a huge group yesterday. I have figured I'm safer up here than down there, seeing the danger that lies below. It's also not very comfortable sleeping on a stone hard chair. I honestly feel quite jealous of the man, he's sleeping in a cosy igloo of warmth and I sleep with an aching butt from the shattering cold that has taken over the chair. Sometimes, the little devil inside of me wants to push him off the bed and curl up in a ball with the soft knitted blankets. But then again, he is ill. He needs it. I can't be selfish.
Day 33 I've become as bored as ever now. I've finished Oliver Twist although I didn't understand a lot of the complicated words. Another book I've started reading was a Christmas Carol, which I started reading in elementary school, the children's version of course. I'm on the part where he encounters the first ghost. I wish the ghost of Christmas past would come to me.
Day 39
Out the window, at this very moment, I can see three limping people feasting on a dead man. I saw him die. The hardest thing about being safe and cosy up here is that you can't do anything about the deaths. He came running into my view of the street calling someone for help, and I just stood there! I wish I had done something but I can't seem to think of a way I could have done anything before being too late.
Day 44 Since those people came into the hospital, I haven't stepped a foot outside of the room. I feel safe in here. I can hear the limping people walking past the door every single day, not noticing that I'm in here. There's nothing much to write down anymore. I'm just waiting now. The food bags are running out, we only have ten left. I have been eating one across two days, whereas the man's bags need to be refilled every three days. My stomach keeps growling like the people outside but I have to resist the temptations of taking more so I can save them as long as I can.
Day 49
There's nothing to write. So I'm going to doodle the view from the window.
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