love letter,

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

do you hate me?

you knew the price goin' in.

i can tell when somebody still wants me.

whether i'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, i haven't decided yet.

you were never not mine.

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

we broke all the pieces but still want to play the game.

told my friends i hate you, but i love you just the same.

pick your poison, babe. i'm poison either way.

they tried to warn you about me.

you're in terrible danger.

i tried to warn you about them.

if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say "i loved you the way that you were."

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

if you want to tear my world apart, say you'll always wonder.

will i always wonder?

i can't pretend like i understand.

how did it end?

it's happening again.

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

no one's ever had me, not like you.

tell me something awful.

tell me all your secrets.

i don't believe in good luck now that i know what's what.

seems like it was never even fun back then.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

maybe you've reframed it and in your mind you didn't beat my spirit black and blue.

i don't think you've changed much.

everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead.

does it feel alright to not know me?

i'm addicted to the "if only."

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

i don't want money. i just want someone who wants my company.

do you believe me now?

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware. what happens if it becomes who you are?

is it something i did?

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

i didn't want to hang around.

we must stop meeting like this.

you are bloodthirsty.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

*drumrolls*

Day 67 ››› Kitsap Regional Library, Bainbridge Island.

Delicate fingers twist the dial with a soft, rhythmic clicking resonating in the desolation of the library's emptiness. As Brighta releases the dial, a ballerina figure emerges, twirling to the eerie strains of distorted music, eliciting a near-sigh from her lips. In that moment, she drifts into thoughts of what could have been, had the world not spiraled into chaos. Behind closed eyelids, memories of her family and, most poignantly, Merihem, her childhood sweetheart turned lover, dance in a bittersweet reverie. The apocalypse had descended during a routine work trip, severing communication with a finality as abrupt as a blackout. Navigating the chaos to get home, Brighta encounters Isa, a beacon of hope amidst the desolation. Knowing the rarity of such companionship in a world rendered merciless, she cherishes their bond, fragile yet resilient against the harsh reality. Closing the box of forgotten relics, Brighta's gaze drifts to Isa, their refuge found amidst the abandoned aisles of the library, its sign faintly echoing memories of "Bainbridge Island." Setting her bag down, she makes space, silently inviting Isa to gather whatever belongings they deem necessary or not for their journey.

"It's time to move," Brighta murmurs softly to Isa, their nightly ritual of scavenging amidst the remnants of the past was always unfolding with a grim sense of routine. In the silence of the forsaken library, one can almost imagine the whispers of past joys—children lost in the enchantment of stories, the tender laughter of lovers concealed among the shelves—a ever so desperate contrast to the desolation that now reigns supreme. It wasn't mere paranoia that gripped Brighta; an unsettling aura hung heavy in the air, suffocating them beneath the oppressive weight of the darkened sky and the suffocating silence that enveloped them like a shroud. Moving closer to Isa, she mustered a strained smile as she reached for a book, sliding it into her bag, her senses tingling with an unspoken unease. A flicker of movement behind Isa jolts Brighta from her daze, but before she can react, the deafening roar of gunfire shatters the stillness of the library. Bullets tear through the air, ripping through books and splintering the table with ruthless precision—a chilling reminder of the ruthlessness that had become all too common in their fractured world. Dubbed 'wrens' for their penchant for ransacking and laying waste to any potential shelter, these marauders showed no mercy in their quest for survival, leaving destruction in their wake before deeming a place fit for their own use. Acting on instinct, Brighta seizes Isa by her backpack, propelling her towards the relative safety of the hallway. Their movements are fluid, honed through countless encounters with both fellow survivors and the unknown terrors that lurked in the shadows. Yet, in this harrowing moment, a disconcerting realization washes over Brighta—this is the first time her concern for Isa's well-being has eclipsed her own survival instincts.