Notes from the End of the World

Meredith McCullen's journal

October 5th

"I'm giving you two very simple choices, Miss: you can stay and do what I'll tell you to, or get the fuck out there and die? It is my way or the highway. Don't you think that I'm also pleased with this. You're far from being my type, too chubby, too old, too ugly. I'd never lay my eyes on a woman like you before all this shit started, but what can we do these days?"

That is what the man that introduced himself as Jim told me, holding a shotgun and with a pistol on his belt. He was a disgusting son-of-a-bitch; he wasn't no male model either, and I also would not lay my eyes on someone like him, before or after the end of the world.

But he had saved me from death.

I should be grateful to him, but all I wanted to was to be capable of smashing his head against the wall. I've been through so much horror in the past weeks ... Now this.

"As you can see," he said, "I have plenty of food and water in here. We could survive for months, but we both would have to make sacrifices. I'll give you what I have to offer, and you'll give what you have to offer ..." He giggled.

"And what do you expect from me?", I asked, even though I clearly knew what he meant.

He chuckled.

"Well, Miss, you know ... A man can be very lonely these days. There is no one left in this fucking world. I just want some fun. Anytime I want."

"I understand. Can I sleep on your offer and give you an answer tomorrow? I'm so tired right now to think properly about it." I said, trying to buy me some time. And God, how I thought about it during the endless, scary night! At first, I was afraid that he would wake up in the middle of night and rape me. We were on the same room, he was much stronger than I, he had guns, he could easily hold me and do whatever the wanted to me. I heard him snoring and I considered grabbing the opportunity to run away in the dark, or taking his pistol and blow his brains out. Just to think about living for months with such a man gave me chills. What was worst, being out there facing death or being in here, as a sexual slave?

I think I'd rather be dead ...