I grabbed the keys to the car and now I'm just waiting to leave. I've decided it'll be best to leave at night, lest someone see a dead woman's car suspiciously driving away from the spot it's been in for some time.
Supplies have been loaded into the trunk of the car and I have 46$ collected from both my house and Betty's. I doubt it's enough to get the gas-hogging trash heap I'll be driving all the way to Canada, but it'll get me started.
I've been in such a panic since leaving the bunker that I don't think my mother's death--or mere capture, possibly--has fully set in. Part of me just hasn't realized that it actually happened. Maybe I'm subconsciously protecting myself.
Or... I'm already starting to forget her.
I'm doing what I can to constantly remind myself about my mother, my father, and Sara. Sara most of all, because I can't risk forgetting where I'm going or why I'm going there.
So, if someone does end up reading this in the future, I'm sorry if I repeat myself too often. I'm just trying to remember.
YOU ARE READING
The Imperfect's Journal: 1
General FictionThis is the journal of Darren Stratt, an "imperfect" who is being hunted in America due to a new law which has stripped disadvantaged individuals--now called "imperfects"--of their rights. In Darren's journal, he documents the horrors of a world run...
