I worked diligently for three hours. I've made a shelter against the cliff side, started a fire, skinned a rabbit I snared and cooked it for dinner.

If Roxy was here, she'd say I was burying myself in jobs to forget my regrets. She's wrong because now, with fading daylight, I am left with a cold flame and the ambers of my memories built on regrets.

I squeeze the blanket Alaric handed me only hours ago and creep closer to the fire. My eyes keep drifting to Roxy's bag, my heart tugging at my mind. Convincing me it won't hurt because I'm strong.

I know it's wrong, but I open the bag. It's empty except for a filled journal. I run my fingers along the edge of the pages and bring it to my chest.

I am just going to reopen scars if I read her journal. I drop the journal back in the bag and leave to stock up the fire. The flames lick the fresh wood as I sit back down, my shins tingle and prick at its heat.

Just do it! One sentence won't hurt you. I know you miss her, so read her thoughts one last time. My heart beckons before I finally cave in and pull the book out again. It's white with 'journal' handwritten in black ink on the cover. Very classy and sophisticated, just like Roxy.

I flip it open and hold my breath.

It's a new beginning, so I'll have a new journal. All those terrible, overrated memories are in the past and will burn. The Hollow will kill the oversized and overrated adults in my life, and I don't care. I'm overjoyed to be honest.

Father told me I have my mother's immune bloodline. Meaning the Hollow won't kill me, which means I can go above ground and live freely. I can finally be free.

I heard there's a group of crazy revolutionists who are going up. You can bet your life that I'm going. I'll use them for their resources and directions, but once I'm up there, they are on their own.

I can't wait to leave this piss hole behind. Screw everyone who's left, the Centre can suck my dick.

Sincerely,

My heart cries, and I am compelled to flip the page.

I've made it to the final layer. People here look sick and disgusting. If I vomited, it would clean this mess. I didn't pack enough food, and there's a few people handing out rations. I refuse to starve, so I'll steal from someone and take the rations.

But when I go to move around a girl, a bag is thrown into me. She's pretty, but beneath my level. I took her poor excuse for food after she called me a beggar. What a brat. Her mother calls her Jean, what an old lady name.

Sincerely,

The darkness is straining my eyes, but I continue to flip through the pages. At least Roxy mentioned me in her journal, though she'd never admit it.

I saved Jean's life. Guess you can call me a hero. We were ambushed and she was shot at. Long story short, we're heading above ground, the Centre close behind us with hazmat suits and masks.

I'm getting scared, but I know there is safety in numbers. When we get above ground, I will stay with the group a little longer. I need to increase my survival chances if I want to live.

Jean is smart-ish, I guess, but more importantly she attracts people. People who are strong and fast want to be near her for some dumb reason. I don't know why, but for now I'll trust her.

She knows my name and that will be it.

Sincerely,

I can barely make out the next page, so I put the journal back down. Roxy thought a lot of me. She was calculated and distant. Somehow I got her to open up. What did she see in me?

I shut my eyes and tighten the blanket around my shoulders. The flames rise and fall steadily, and night hides the stories stowed in Roxy's journal.

Until tomorrow, I promise myself.