September 22

I'm going to tell the truth tomorrow. Today wasn't a good day, and it's too late to confess today, so I'm going to do it tomorrow.

I got confronted by May right in the morning, as soon as I was forcefully awoken. "What is the tape doing on the axe? Why isn't it burned?"

I rolled over and tried to ignore her because she was only making me more stressed and anxious about telling the truth to Mom and Dad. But she ripped the comforter off my bed, and I groggily grumbled, "You were supposed to stay awake."

"Well it's not like you had to do laundry all day," she replied. "So why did you not get the plan done?"

"I couldn't, okay?" I replied. "Anyways, I'm telling Mom and Dad the truth today."

"Then go tell them right now."

"Not right now," I said. "You know how Mom and Dad are like in the morning, especially without any coffee since they used the last of the instant coffee mixture yesterday."

"Fine," she said with a loud sigh. "You're telling them this afternoon. Promise me?"

"Promise," I said, at the moment being truthful because I was going to tell them about the axe situation. I just needed to work up the courage and faith that everything was going to be just fine if I told them.

Unfortunately, life got in the way of that because the world is just like that.

Dad was really grumpy from last night, possibly because he didn't get much sleep. I'm wondering if he's still having nightmares about the ocean and the teens on the beach that were washed away at twilight. Dad acted like everything was fine the day after it happened, and he never talked about it ever because he wanted to stay strong for us. Or maybe it's because he's bad at being emotional.

Either way, he started getting pretty snappy and authoritarian in the morning. First, he got annoyed at Mira for putting the cups in the wrong drawer. Then, he got mad at Mom for disappearing the shovel that he was going to use to clean the rooftop (Eventually, later on today, we'd find it exactly where Mom said it was, just buried under a bunch of other tools). The last big argument he had was with May, which just had to rope me in.

"Where is my jacket? The one with the snowflake on it" Dad asked My as he paced around and threw clothes out from the closet. "I know that it was in the laundry yesterday, so where did you put it?"

"I don't know," May said. "Maybe you should do your own laundry."

"Can you just find it?" he said, clearly irritated before muttering, "Why is everyone being so frustrating today?"

"Just look in the drawers," she said.

"Just get up and work," Dad said before going onto a fairly unjustified rant. "I've been doing all the maintenance of the greenbox, chopping of the wood, boiling of the water day in and out while you've just been sitting here. So get up!"

"Why don't you just get another jacket?" I very reasonably suggested, with May saying, "Yeah."

"Because I need this jacket," Dad said. "And you need something to do instead of sitting down and doing nothing. I'm going to teach you how to use some tools tomorrow, so that you can man up and do some actual repair work at home. And May, I want you to start looking. Now!"

Dad stormed out of the room, and May groaned before looking at me. "What is up with Dad? He's acting literally like a teenager."

"Mid-life crisis," I replied.

"More like end-life crisis," May muttered to herself before turning to me. "Remember. You have to tell them the truth today. Seeing as how Dad has been acting all day, he'll probably be awake all night being angry for absolutely no reason at all."

She then left the room, and I went back to sitting down. If there's one thing that I know about Dad is that he makes a lot of empty threats, and hopefully, his threat of making me "man up" will fade out of existence. It's not that I hate doing work, but it's just that I hate when Mom and Dad say that because it's like why do I have to repair things over Mira and May, who are a lot better at handling tools and practical work?

Anyways, after that, everyone avoided Dad all day like he was radioactive. There really was no chance for me to tell Dad the truth, and I doubt that he'd even be alright with the truth, given his behavior today. He'd probably explode at me or act super cold and unnaturally calm, like he'd act with Mira before the Mooncrash and even during parts of it.

I don't really know why I'm so scared of Mom and Dad not understanding why May and I did what we had to. Obviously, there's the part about doing something expressly banned, and there's the whole change part, but I feel like there's more to this. It's not as if I don't feel loved by them, but it's like they never really tell me how they'll feel if this ever happened, and anytime they talk about this, it's always in private and hushed whispers so that we'll almost never know. All of the parents on TV are so open about these emotions, but it's like Mom and especially Dad just bury them away a lot of the time.

Thinking about it, I wonder if this is what they are thinking when I'm not super emotional and confessional with them too.

Dinner was predictably tense, and there was little chitter-chatter outside the salt-passing and agenda setting items. Dad had calmed down by then too, and he carried on like his morning outburst had not happened, which left us all uneasy.

May spent the whole dinner motioning me to tell them the truth, but at that moment, I was still worried that Dad was angry, and that telling him and Mom would make his temper go off. I personally think that it's a smart move to lie back because I've only got one opportunity to tell the truth, and I need it to be in the perfect moment so that nothing would go wrong.

I've also been working on a script about what I'll say and am practicing saying it right now in my mind, as everyone (presumably) is sleeping around me. I'll attach it below so that I won't lose it, but hopefully, conditions will be good tomorrow so that losing it shouldn't be a factor:

"Hey Mom and Dad, I have something to tell both of you."

[Cue Mom and Dad asking what it is]

"I'm sorry that I lied to you about where I got the axe. I said I got it from the garden, but the truth is that I took it from the Hunters' house. I know that both of you said that we shouldn't be taking things from the Hunters' house, but I couldn't watch you guys struggle so much with using the tiny, little hatchet that took ages to cut down even a small tree. With this axe, we were able to gather enough wood that winter is looking more manageable now, especially also with the solar panels, which I borrowed from the Hunters' too. Sorry about that."

[Cue reasonable "Why didn't you tell me?" type response from the both of them]

"Because I was worried about you guys not accepting the axe. But next time this happens, I promise to tell the truth and not lie anymore since I know that it was wrong to do so, especially since it's important for all of us to trust each other."

[Cue happily ever after as Mom and Dad don't get mad, and we all rejoice]

Now I can only hope that this happens.

September 23

I should've told the truth yesterday or just burned the damn axe handle to crisps on Thursday instead of procrastinating. I'm such an idiot. I just want to get swallowed by the waves, disappear under the ocean, and never come back again.

I got about three seconds of peace eating my soupy breakfast when May barged into the living room. I groaned because I was not in the mood to deal with her drama and reminders about the axe, but it seemed like she was looking for something. When I looked around the fireplace, I noticed that the axe was missing.

"You didn't burn the axe yesterday," May said, looking both nervous and annoyed. "So don't delay telling Mom and Dad the truth."

"I won't," I said. "I'll tell them today."

"Good," she said before muttering under her breath, "We're so—"

I think she was going to say something when Dad burst from the garage, holding the axe in his hand with his face bright red. May and I were both confused until we saw the pink duct tape that I wrapped around the base of the axe was missing because Dad must've taken it off for some god-forsaken reason. He said, "What is this?"

"What is what?" May asked without much care even though she was probably panicking as much as me.

"Hunters," Dad replied and pointed at the axe before turning to me. "You told me that you got the axe from the garden."

"I did, and this could be a coincidence and—"

"Don't lie to me," Dad said. "Show me a little respect. Is the solar panel even from the garden or did you take it too?"

I stopped talking and just stared at the ground. Silence. That's how I've gotten myself out of one of many tussles with Mom and Dad. If I just stay silent, they'll eventually forget since they both have notoriously short memories and fighting only makes more of an impression and memory. I didn't say a word, and then Dad said, "I'm very disappointed—"

"It was me," May said, and I looked at her with surprise. Why would she say something? May's terrible at schoolwork and studying, but when it comes to these calculations, she's actually pretty good. It didn't make sense for her to implicate both her and me.

Dad turned to her, and then turned to me and then turned back to her. "Did both of you work together, to lie to me and your mom?"

"Yeah," May said. "Because we knew you'd act all like this, you know, all crazy like."

"I specifically said that we weren't going to touch the Hunters' house," Dad raved. "We had one simple rule, and both of you broke it. We don't ask much—"

"We have so many rules. No going into your own bedrooms. Everyone has to sleep together in the living room. We can't walk by ourselves. We literally can't do any—"

"All of the rules are for your safety," Mom said as she entered the room, somewhat calmer than the rest of us. "There's a reason we all follow them, and especially both of you because you aren't old enough to make these decisions."

"Not old enough to make these decisions?" May scoffed. "My choice to get the axes saved us from freezing to death in the future. You guys aren't the ones making the right choices because if we had ditched the axe, where would we be right now?"

She paused briefly before saying, "Dead, like literally 90% of the world."

"Don't say that," Mom said. "We can't think like that."

"Stop bright-siding everything," May said. "Things suck right now. I can think everything is terrible because it is, and it's only going to get more terrible in the future. Let me feel bad and stop trying to control my thoughts."

"Thinking everything's going to get worse and worse doesn't make anything better," Mom said. "It only leads to sadness and depression. We need to stay strong in our beliefs, and stop thinking about all we've lost, and start building from all that remains here."

"Then don't return the axe," I added quietly. "Or the solar panels. We'll need them if we want to build up."

Mom sighed and rubbed her forehead. "It's too late to return them, and we might as well use them."

If there was one good thing that came out of all of this, it's that they didn't reject the axe or the solar panel. Even if it comes at the cost of how Mom and Dad view the both of us, at least we won't be set to die in the near future from an entirely preventable bout of hypothermia. But this being the bright side doesn't mean much when life looks like it's going to get more painful.

Dad was still fuming, though it was a much scarier measured fuming. "If you two believe that you're adults and can make your own decisions, then it's time to embrace adult responsibilities now. No more sitting down all day, and it's time to work like the rest of us."

May stood up in protest. "But—"

"No buts," Dad said, cutting her off. "You two chose this pathway, and you will have to commit to having more responsibilities."

"You guys don't understand," May said, now shouting at Dad. "You just have to take everything the wrong way. All I wanted was for you to just take my opinions seriously since you guys are just so stubborn and don't listen to anyone but yourselves."

"Then, why are you yelling?" Dad said. "You could say all of this in a calm tone."

"I don't know," May said sarcastically. "Maybe because it was you that started this conversation by screaming at us. Neal was going to tell the truth to both of you, you know."

"Then why not?" Mom and Dad asked at the same time and started staring at me.

"Because, sometimes I'm scared of you both because I don't know how you'll react, and I'm terrified of emotional honesty," I wanted to say and nearly blurted out the first half, but I stopped myself. It'd hurt Mom and Dad so much to hear that I feel nervous and stressed when talking with them sometimes, and at that moment, with emotions flowing everywhere and connections being ripped apart, I couldn't do it.

I thought that I could finally be truthful and honest, but I'm such a liar to my core that I couldn't do it. Every single time it comes to the truth, I come up with more and more excuses, and I just can't stop doing it, even as it ruins everything around me.

So I shrugged my shoulders and didn't say anything, and Mom and Dad moved on with Dad saying, "There are going to be consequences for this."

"What?" May said. "Grounded? I'm grounded every single day. It's not like you can take anything more."

"We'll figure it out," Dad replied sternly.

By dinnertime, they'd figured out May's punishments, which involve doing a lot of chores this week and possibly forever. I got let off easy, with just the reorganization of old clutter and watering of the greenbox being my only two tasks, though Dad is threatening me with "manly" tasks that he wants to teach.

Because May dared to speak out, she fared worse than me, and I could barely meet her eyes during dinner as she silently fumed while sipping soup. I still feel guilty because I was being selfish. While I was worrying about myself getting into big trouble and taking all of the blame, I never realized that May could also get hurt.

Maybe I am just like Mom and Dad, just thinking about myself only. While Mira is going outside with her gun and defending people that she doesn't even know, the only thing that I'm doing is passing food to Charles. I guess that is unselfish, but I'm doing it because I can't afford to lose him and my only link to the outside world. In the end, everything circles around to me.

Sometimes I wonder if I'd help him if he was just some starving stranger on the road. I'd like to think that I would because I know that not helping him is immoral. At the same time, I wonder if I'd have flaked out when Dad moved everyone in the living room and made sneaking out food extremely difficult, like I had left May during her plan. It's like I wouldn't have the same fear of permanent loss, and I don't even know why I'm rambling on about this.

The universe is probably going to send a giant wave to sweep all of us away. Considering how today went, it might be a favor.

September 24

I wasn't in the mood for talking today. Everything Mom and Dad said yesterday, all the shouting and disappointment, kept repeating in my head over and over again. Even now, I can still feel the regret and anger and embarrassment. Maybe I don't want to throw myself into the ocean, but I just want to transport myself somewhere else, so that I don't have to see anyone's' faces.

"Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?" Mira asked, as if she didn't know what happened yesterday since our walls are thin and May was practically shouting.

I shrugged, hoping that Mira could go away, but instead, she stayed and said, "You guys could've asked me for help. I know that I'm supposed to protect homes from looting, but I do agree that Mom and Dad were being unreasonable with the Hunter situation."

"Whatever," I muttered.

"It's not your fault, you know," she said.

That's when I let my guard down and blurted out, "It was my fault."

"What do you mean?" Mira asked, but I didn't really answer her after my confession.

I probably should've expanded on my confession and put myself out there. Maybe it would help with the guilt that I'm feeling for disobeying May's plan and screwing everything up. Maybe committing to a new path would be for the best and actually get me somewhere. But instead, I shrugged her off. "I don't want to talk about it."

She stood up. "I can see you're beating yourself up about whatever you think that you did, so whenever you are ready to talk, I'll be here."

I turned away from her, and then she left me by myself. Secretly, I wanted to ask her how she does it, the whole emotional honesty thing. Whenever we've talked, she's always been the one to speak her mind about what's troubling her or her worries and fears while I've just sat and listened and offered consolidation without spilling my heart to her. Does it come naturally to her, being able to open her heart up to anyone and talk, or does she need to override her cautions and force these emotional truths out? I wish I knew how she does it, so that I can just follow the formula and solve this mystery once and for all.

I know that I said I didn't want to talk to anyone, but I did try talking with May, after she ignored me all of yesterday. But the way the conversation went, it's as if we didn't talk at all.

"I messed up, okay," I said to May.

She turned away from me and went back to mopping the floor, and it was apparent that she was still angry at me. Whenever we've fought, we've usually gotten over everything in a couple of hours, but this felt different.

"You were right. I should've just followed your plan. I wasn't thinking."

"You had just one job and you screwed everything up," she said, acid on her tongue and her voice cracked. "So just go now! Just go!"

She sounded like she was going to cry, and I didn't know what else to say, so I walked away. Mira told me that everything wasn't my fault, but I know that May blames me for everything that went wrong. She deserves to be angry at me. She doesn't deserve to take all of the hurt.

I wish I could've stood up with her and confronted Mom and Dad for being unreasonable. That's probably my biggest regret of this week, outside of not being completely honest with Mom and Dad. Maybe that could've helped stop their irrational reaction and saved May from this life of endless chores.

This week showed the worst two sides of me: the spineless coward and the compulsive liar.

I can't decide which one is worse.

September 25

We carried water from morning until evening until my arms could barely move anymore. If there's any consolation, it might've been the best day out of these shoddy few days because I finally got a breather from Mom and Dad.

I guess I was thinking about it all last night, but I realized that I never actually said sorry to May for what I did. And since she wasn't listening to me, I had to go through Mira to get my message across. And to get Mira to transfer my message, I had to talk to her about what I did.

And I nearly made up enough excuses not to do so.

It'd be too awkward to tell Mira, and May would eventually understand that I'm sorry. Mira would be extremely judgmental and give me one of her lectures about the importance of telling the truth in the beginning. But the biggest excuse would be just that Mira wouldn't understand what I did. I know that it was irrational, but it's better to always expect the worst so that your expectations can never disappoint you.

I thought I wasn't going to be able to do it, and I'd let my fear of embarrassment, of judgement, of change get into my way. But I guess I managed to push all of my reservations down, just for a couple of seconds, before they came spiraling back. By the time it happened, the words had left my mouth.

"Can you tell May that I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Are you talking about what happened on Saturday?" Mira replied.

She looked at me curiously and with a tinge of pride. Since the words had already escaped, there was no going back from my pathway.

"Yeah," I said. "Can you tell her that? She'll understand what I mean."

"Okay," Mira said, and she went over to May and told her my message, but May just angrily waved Mira off, and she returned back to me.

"She didn't take the message, right?" I said.

Mira shook her head, and I sighed. "I really, really messed up."

She nodded and looked at me, and I could tell that she was committed to listening. So this once, I let open the floodgates and spilled everything, so that hopefully, she'd be able to tell me how to move past this mistake of mine.

"Mom and Dad weren't supposed to find out that the Hunters owned the axe because May and I had a plan to get rid of the engraved name on the bottom. I was the one that had to execute the plan, but I just couldn't and told her that I'd tell Mom and Dad the truth. But even then, I couldn't make myself tell Mom and Dad the truth, which was how we got into big trouble."

"Damn, that's a lot," Mira said with a sigh. "You know you guys could've asked me for help."

"I know," I said, kinda saying the truth and kinda not. "But May was worried that with your whole neighborhood watch approach, you wouldn't support us and rat us out to Mom and Dad."

"Of course I'd support you," Mira replied. "The Hunters told us that we could use their supplies, which is completely different from taking supplies from other people's homes."

She paused before adding, "You guys aren't doing this, right?"

"Obviously not," I lied. "But about the supporting part, I think you should tell May that since she's the one that needs it. You may want to leave out the last part."

"The one about not looting the homes?" she asked, genuinely confused. "What's wrong with that?"

"Extraneous information," I said semi-jokingly. "Removing that might make your message of support more meaningful."

Mira nodded before saying, "I think what May needs is space right now."

"Space?" I asked. "But wouldn't that make everything worse because she wouldn't know that I'm sorry about screwing everything up?"

"I think she knows already," Mira replied. "What she needs right now is time to process everything and work past the anger. Making things better comes later when she'll actually take your sorries to heart."

"It's just so weird," I replied. "We've never really fought like this."

"Trust me," she said. "I have way too much experience with fighting with Mom and Dad, so I'm kinda an expert at this."

"Totally," I replied sarcastically. "You want to tell May what we were talking about earlier? Maybe to help her process."

"I already heard it," May shouted. "You guys really need to speak quieter!"

"Oops," I whispered to Mira. "That was awkward."

"Don't worry," she whispered back. "See, it was good opening yourself up."

"I guess."

"We should do this every week."

"Now you're making it weird."

"I'll stop," she said, and we walked in silence for the rest of the day, outside of a couple of short conversations.

Today was about as good as it could get. I didn't have to see Mom and Dad until very late, when they plopped into bed and went to sleep immediately, so there was no need to make awkward conversation. No one was yelling at each other, and, minus my panicky heartbeat when I blurted out the truth to Mira, I didn't feel like I was going to die from stress.

If today's the calm after the storm, then tomorrow has to be the rainbow that bursts from the clouds in a prismatic dazzle of light. Maybe everything's going to get better between my family and me, and maybe I'll have a revelation on who I am. Maybe everything will turn out to be alright.

September 26

I was wrong.

If yesterday was the calm after the storm, then today was the storm suddenly manifesting and killing everyone when they thought it was safe.

Mom and Dad found the backpack filled with cans of food. I don't know how they did it since I buried it deep within the branches and ash piles of our neighbor's garden. It should've been hidden enough, and I doubt that anyone saw me since I did this early in the morning. Maybe Mom and Dad were spying on me or maybe they coincidentally found it, but either way, Charles was screwed.

"Is this our food?" Dad asked me while holding up the back.

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe it was our neighbor's secret stash."

"I don't recall seeing it a couple of days back," Dad said. "And this looks like your backpack."

"Well, I don't know," I said and walked away, my heart pounding loud because I knew that Dad was suspicious of me. But I needed to get Charles food, and I needed to do it quickly since he was arriving soon, so I asked the only other person that knew.

"Mira," I said to her. "I need your help."

"What for?" she asked.

"It's about Charles' food," I said. "Mom and Dad found the backpack with the cans in it, and I think they know it's me."

"That's not good," she said.

"Yeah. So I need you to go into the pantry and grab a couple of the cans and take the backpack outside before or when Charles comes," I replied. "It's really important so please be careful."

"Mom and Dad are guarding the pantry like hawks," Mira said. "It's going to be hard to get anything. Are you sure you don't want to tell them the truth?"

"Mom and Dad keep saying that we have to look out for ourselves only, so if they found out that I've been taking our food to feed Charles' family, I don't know what they'll do."

"This seems exactly like yesterday, with May and I. She didn't think that I'd approve of what she did when I was fine with it, so she didn't talk to me about it and never reached out for help," she replied. "Maybe Mom and Dad will be alright and understanding if you came clean to them."

I thought that she didn't understand my fears at the time, but thinking about it now, she did face something similar with Leon, where she lost someone. But at the same time, Leon left with plenty of food and fuel while, if Mom and Dad find out and cut me off from Charles, he'll starve, and I'll be alone. Maybe if I opened up to her, she could've tried harder at stopping this disaster.

"Just get the cans," I said. "And I'll keep watch."

We had to take a long time to find the right opportunity to get the cans. It wasn't like the early morning can preparations, where everyone sleeping meant that there was significantly less of a chance of being spotted. It's not even like May's axe plan, where there was a solid chance that everyone would be asleep. We were doing it in the middle of the day, sunlight streaming through our windows and everyone out and about.

Thinking about it now, I don't know why I didn't flake on this plan, like I did with May's infinitely safer one. I guess it's because I knew that, at least, what would come immediately after would not involve anyone dying. But with Charles and the food, if I didn't get the food in time to him, he and his family would starve or get hurt trying to get food from other people's homes. It's like the axe business was so trivial while the can situation is real.

Our opportunity finally came when everyone wasn't paying attention. Grandma and Grandpa were taking their afternoon nap, May was angst-ing out in her room because she wanted to annoy Mom and Dad by breaking one of their minor rules, Dad was in the bathroom, possibly showering. The only person that wasn't super far away was Mom since she was putting dishes away in the cupboards, but because she didn't have a clear vision of the pantry, everything was going to work out.

And in the beginning, everything went according to plan.

Mira and I managed to pick out eight or so cans for Charles. I told her to grab cans from the back of the pantry rather than the front because I had a sneaking suspicion that Dad patterned out the front so that he's notice any missing cans. No one popped out of nowhere and everyone else minded their business. I thought that the universe was finally atoning for what it did to me on Saturday.

But everything collapsed with a loud knock on the door.

Mira and I tried getting to the door before Mom, but she beat us to the chase and stood in front of the door. Mira had to head back, so that Mom didn't see the backpack with the cans in them, as I walked towards Mom.

"It's Charles," I said. "Not some stranger."

"I know," she said. "But you won't be talking with him today. After what happened on Saturday, you need to reflect about what you've done, and this is the most appropriate punishment your father and I came up with."

"That's not fair," I said.

"Then maybe you should've thought before you disobeyed our rules and put yourself in danger."

I nearly scoffed. What danger? I feel like Mom's gotten so obsessed with security that she can't even find anything safe anymore. We weren't even breaking glass or taking things from occupied homes. All we were doing was just following what the Hunters told us, which was to take whatever we needed.

But instead, I nodded and looked back at Mira, who was standing super nervously, before looking at Mom. "Well, can I at least tell him that I won't be able to talk this week?"

"One minute," Mom said and opened the door.

"Hey there," Charles said and waved at Mom.

"Neal has something important to tell you," she replied.

"Really?" he asked. "You finally figured out your story idea?"

"You two are writing a story?" Mom asked, and I face-palmed.

"Mom, can you give us some privacy," I said and gestured towards the door.

"Just tell him what you need to say," Mom said and continued to stare us down. With Mom there, I couldn't get the message across for Charles to go into our neighbor's yard to pick up the food since that was our plan b.

I tried gesturing with my arm towards the neighboring house as I said, "I kinda messed up on something, so my parents are basically grounding me for a week."

"Wow," he said. "Goody-two shoes Neal getting into trouble?"

"Yep," I said, my cheeks probably flushed bright red with embarrassment, as I continued pointing sideways. "I'll see you soon?"

He looked down at my hand, and I think he got the message (not like it mattered anyways) before starting to wave. I thought I had avoided a disaster until I heard Dad shout, "What are you doing with the food?"

I turned back into the hallway with Mira looking at me apologetically. There Dad was, with the backpack of food dangling from his clenched palm, giving Mira and I the death stare. It turns out that because I was preoccupied with Charles, there was no one keeping watch with Mira, meaning that when Dad left the bathroom and wondered what was happening at the door, well, this happened.

"Are you giving the Shepards our food?!" Dad shouted. "We earned that food, and we are not giving it to strangers that approached us with guns that we've met once in our lives."

"It's not for the Shepards," Mira said.

"Then what are you doing with the food?" Dad asked more coldly.

I don't know what I would've done if I was in Mira's place. Taking the hit and blame probably would make the situation worse since it'd inflame old tensions. Telling a lie would probably be the best option, but I doubt that I could've been able to think of a lie that'd hold to any basic scrutiny. What she did was probably the best option, but I just can't help feeling like it made everything worse for me.

"It's for Charles and his family. Neal has been risking everything to make sure that they don't starve because some families were not as fortunate as ours," she said, and everyone looked at Charles before staring at me.

There was a long and very painful silence. I thought that Mom and Dad would be understanding. I thought that they were taking the time to think about their policy of helping only themselves. I thought that they were willing to change their views, so that Charles and his family wouldn't starve to death.

Everything that I thought shattered into a million pieces when Dad said to Charles, "Get out."

"What's wrong with you?" I shouted at Dad.

If I was thinking rationally, I should've just stayed silent. Escalating the fight was pointless since it would only make Dad dig into his position more, and an angry Dad doesn't get anyone anywhere. But I was angry at Dad, and maybe even angry at myself for not standing up for May against Dad, I couldn't stay on the sidelines, not when my only friend was at risk of being cut off from my life.

"We'll talk about this later," Dad replied (extremely) coldly and calmly before turning to Charles. "Leave now."

Charles seemed nervous, and he walked down the porch and turned back to give me a tepid wave. He then walked away, slipping away from me and into the light afternoon mist. Dad then turned to me. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the beginning of August," I spat at him. "He was sick and starving, and I had to help—"

"Sick?" Dad said with a scoff, cutting me out. "He seemed perfectly fine, even when food deliveries had been cut off."

"That's because of what I'm doing for him," I said, even when I knew that there was more to this story than that.

"He's using you," Dad said. "I know it's hard to understand, but you're being used by him. People change during these times. They get crueler and more manipulative and more dishonest, and that's what happened to Charles."

"That's not true!" I said. "You're the one who has changed. You and Mom always talk about keeping everything normal, but you guys keep getting more cynical and more controlling. And the only thing that you guys haven't changed on, like actually taking people's help with the Hunters' axe, is the only important one."

"You aren't going to see Charles anymore," Dad said.

"No," Mom said, stepping in. "That's unreasonable. But no more giving food to Charles and his family. We have enough to worry with our family—"

"See, you guys keep talking about me, me, and me," I replied. "You guys can't muster enough empathy to actually care about the family of my only friend in the world."

And at that moment, I just left the conversation. Mom and Dad had nothing substantive to add, and I didn't need to listen to them spew their selfish, cynical apocalypse ideology. Life is more than just breathing and not starving.

Mom tried adding, "We do care. This isn't the best way to help." But I ignored her because if she actually cared about me, she'd look after Charles too, and that the only way to help is to prevent him and his family from dying of starvation.

I don't know if telling the truth and being honest upfront would've changed anything. Mom and Dad, despite deeply holding onto their opposition to borrowing tools from those who have left, have changed their values so much.

This is what happens when you're constantly worrying about what comes after instead of what actually remains here. You begin to think that everyone is going to turn against you, you begin retreating out of fear of how people may change instead of helping them towards a better path, and you begin prioritizing a future that won't exist if you can't preserve the people that are still here.

That's the true cost of the apocalypse.

September 27

This is all my fault.

I was sentenced to a whole day to sit in my room to organize old papers and books, sorting them into sentimental items and disposable, burnable items. Mom and Dad gave me a tiny box to hold all the things that I wanted to keep and a giant box for paper to be burned. Being a world class hoarder, this was the worst punishment that Mom and Dad could think of.

But nothing would prepare me for what Charles said after I heard his knock on the window. I looked out and saw him waving at me.

"What are you doing here? My parents would be mad if they saw you here."

"I've got something important to tell you, and I'll make it quick," he said. "I just need a couple of minutes."

"Meet me in the neighbor's yard, where we met last time."

He gave me a thumbs up, and I opened the door to my room slowly before closing it with the softest creak and snuck outside. Mom and Dad were nowhere to be seen for some reason, but my heart stopped for a second when I saw May.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Please don't tell Mom and Dad," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"I'll do anything," I said. "Just hold off on saying that I went outside for five minutes."

I'm sure she knew that I was meeting with Charles and that her tattling on me to Mom and Dad would be the best revenge she could enact on me for betraying her on Monday. Much like when I held all the power to decide whether or not to burn the axe, she now held the power to decide whether I would get cut off from the outside world.

So it surprised me when she said, "I won't tell them. But I'm going to be cashing out on that promise to do anything very soon. And let's just say that it'll involve a lot of pain."

"Thank you. Thank you," I said and left the house. I ran sneakily through the yard and hopped the fence with the assistance of the chair. He was sitting on the bench and staring at his watch.

"We're—" he said, but I cut him off before he could even begin.

"I'm sorry that you had to hear that yesterday. I'll find some way to get you the cans," I said. "Tensions are pretty high at home, but once things cool down, I'll get some food."

"You won't need to," he said and looked down, biting his lip. "We're leaving."

"Leaving?" I said in disbelief. I couldn't form any words for a few seconds because I couldn't grasp Charles disappearing forever. "Like to the South?"

"Things are supposed to be better down there," he said. "And it's our only option."

"How long have you been planning this for?" I asked.

"A while," he said. "But I didn't want to tell you this because I didn't want to scare you and we were going to leave a bit later. But after some recent events, we had to change our timeline to the day after tomorrow."

I couldn't help but feel like the "recent events" had to do with me getting cut off from the cans after Mom and Dad's massive blow up. It's no coincidence that the day that this happens is the day that he and his family decide to leave here forever. But maybe I'm overthinking this because in the past few weeks, so much has happened, from the earthquake cutting off water to the breakdown in food drive negotiations. At the same time, Dad's words rang in my head from yesterday.

"But what about fuel," I asked. "Or food or just everything you need—"

"We're fine," Charles said and looked down at his glass-stained boots. "We've gotten everything that we need for the trip."

I nodded because I knew exactly how they got everything they needed, from barren homes and possibly (but hopefully not) other starving families like his. "What about our bucket list?" I asked.

"That's what tomorrow is for," Charles said. "I know your parents have basically grounded you, but do you think that you could meet me in the morning by the train tracks at seven or so. You should also probably write a note to your parents to make sure that they don't panic since we're going to be out all day."

"How are we going to write a story in one day?"

"There's a bit of a workaround," he said. "We're not really going to be writing a full story per say, but we're going to be creating one from scraps of old things."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but it better be a good story," I replied.

"It'll certainly be a good one if you have to book your whole day with me," he said. "Get it? Book your whole day."

"That has to be your worst pun ever," I said. "If you were a character in a book, it'd seem like the author is just trying to inject forced humor into the story of our lives."

"Wow, that really hurt," he said jokingly, and we both laughed. "If I was a character in a book, I think I'd be everyone's favorite."

"Totally," I said, and there was a small lull in our conversation.

Charles looked down at his watch before standing up. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," I said. "Good—"

"Let's save our goodbyes for tomorrow," he said, and opened the gate before shutting it close and leaving. And I hopped over the fence and sat in the backyard for the longest time before Mom and Dad started yelling about where I was.

"What were you doing outside?" Dad asked.

"I wanted some air," I said with a shrug.

"Were you seeing Charles?"

"No."

"I'm going to ask this again, and I want you to look me in the eyes. Were you talking with Charles."

"No," I said.

"We did this for your own good," Dad said, crossing his arms and looking down at me.

I started walking away. "Just leave me alone!"

But when I looked back, I saw Dad surprised, the sternness and coldness melted away for just a second. His eyes seemed softer, and he was almost slack jawed. Maybe he actually regretted what he said, and maybe he was going to give me a proper apology. Maybe I could continue gathering cans, and Charles and his family wouldn't have to leave.

"I'm sor—" Dad said before cutting himself off.

That half-cut off sorry is everything that I hate in Dad. He's so stubborn that he can't admit when he's plain wrong. It's like he doesn't have enough humility to spare a simple apology that costs absolutely nothing. It's all their fault that he's gone because all they needed to do was to just change their newfound beliefs for just one person, and they were too stubborn not to.

But maybe it's my fault too. I saw how May treated me alright today even when I ruined her life, and I wonder if it's because she heard the conversation between Mira and me. In the moment, it felt awkward and intrusive for someone to listen to me spilling everything and all the emotional honesty. Looking back on it though, I wonder if this was the turning point for May. If she never had heard our conversation, I don't think she would've spared me since she'd make me suffer alongside her too.

All of this gets back to Mom and Dad. I know that yesterday I said telling the truth would be pointless, but I wonder if I had opened up to them about my fear of losing Charles, that they'd have been more willing to help him. Maybe if I had told them that I'm terrified that once he leaves, I'll start forgetting him, like he was another relic of a past world that doesn't exist anymore, it'd convince them to continue to allow me to slip them food.

The sensations of going to school or riding a car are already beginning to fade from my mind, and as much as I try to preserve my memories, eventually, almost everything about my only friendship will fade away.

Because of this, for my story, I think I'm going to write about the story of us. I don't know how it's going to work but getting something down means that we'll at least be preserved on paper in this diary of the apocalypse. It's the only way to make this friendship permanent and everlasting.

Before today, I would've been stumped on my last item, but I've figured out what I'm going to do for it: complete honesty from the both of us. As much as I hope not, the rational part of me knows there's little chance that we're going to meet again. There's no point in leaving anything off of the table and no chance to regret everything unsaid.

This is the most terrifying item on my bucket list, but maybe that's the point. Charles' first item on the bucket list was to challenge me to get into the water, so it's time that I challenge myself to change.