Journal #8

End of The Road

This world has gone to pure chaos. I used to have the strength to get by and make the most of this terrible world, not for me but for my son. He deserved to live his life not survive in it. He was the one thing that kept me fighting another day, to make this place better for him. He was always positive and full of so much hope even though we have lost the few who were dear to us most. Before and the start of all this it was just him and me but now it’s just me…

My son was the only thing I had left. The one thing that put a smile on my face and I cannot let that go, I will not. We had made it so far. I kept him safe and healthy and the minute I let my guard down, it was a minute too long. It’s all my fault. If I would of watch my surroundings more thoroughly this would of never happened. What’s the point of surviving when you lost the one thing that made you want to live?

When he was “transforming” I could not end his suffering. I could not let him go, not yet. There was still this part of me that thought he might get through this. He might be one of the few who were immune. I clung on to hope so hard and I did not let go. Once the breath left his body and all that remained was coldness I knew it was too late. Then a rasped inhale filled the room. I looked down at him, my baby boy, with blurry vision. He clawed at me and moaned in hunger. I ran out the room and locked the door. I have never cried so hard in my life. He was gone and I will never get my boy back. It was like a part of me died and turned with him. I am not the same anymore. I do not think I ever will be the same.

Whenever I left the house I could hear his moans echo through the empty streets. Our neighbors who some how managed to make it through this disaster looked at me different. They use to have warm smiles and hellos for me but now I receive stern looks and threats to my baby boy. I know it is not right for me to keep him locked in there but I do not want to be alone. It is selfish, I know but I do not want to. There is no point for me to keep trying to survive in this world if there is no future for him. All in all I know what I have to do.

Weapon in hand I walk do the locked door with my son on the other side of it. With a deep breath and tears streaming down my cheeks I turn the door knob. He turns and looks at me and tries to walk to me. He is weak and his flesh is rotting. I look into his eyes and I do not see him anymore. Eyes once warm and young are now cold and hungry. I take one more look and then do what I have to do. The right thing for him to be able to move on. His blood stains my hands. What have I done?

I am utterly alone now. I have no one. I have no more purpose. I am not a mom anymore. No mother should out live her son. It is not fair. This life is not fair. He deserved more. He was too young. None of that matters now, like I do not matter. I am at the end of the road...