I was born on the 5th of December 1984. My family... what do you want to know? I grew up in a loving family. Yes, there were months when we barely made ends meet, but I wouldn't say we were poor. My mom was very good at saving money, so we could actually afford something better. My dad... my dad worked as a Diplomatic Attache. Due to the... heh... area of expertise being diplomatic relations with russians, he quickly developed drinking addiction. No... he wasn't abusive, but sometimes the situation at home wasn't the best. I remember like it was yesterday... I think I was 7 years old and my dad picked me up from school. He was drunk as fuck, and kept on holding my hand. We were walking and I was simply affraid that he's not well. How was I supposed to know, I was just a dumb kid. My mum... my mother was a saint. She tried to shelter me from everything that was wrong. She kept me under her umbrella and... well... I didn't quite understand how shitty the world is until I had to be on my own...
But who the fuck cares, right? The infection, that's the main topic, right? Fucking outbreak was... shit... It was an opportunity for me. It didn't matter I had no experience in jobs, didn't study well... Now completely different set of skills mattered. Maybe if I didn't ran into... into my friends I wouldn't be alive here. But that was just beginning. Beginning of new life in which... in which I could finally matter?
Diary entry nr 1
" I don't think I'll make it... I simply don't have the strenght for it. I just want to sit down and cry... hoping that when I open my eyes again everything is going to be back to normal. I don't understand why is this happening. I hears shots. Screams. Growling. God forgive me..."
Diary entry nr 2
"I'm still alive. How... These people... the outbreak was not end of my life. As harsh as it may sound... it's an opportunity. A chance I was hoping for. Can I really matter? Can I make an impact on the world as it is? They help me... I help them. Sometimes when I look into their eyes it feels... it almost feels like family"
Diary entry nr 3
"Another day, another empty cage. Maybe there are no more of them left? I'll have to trade something away. Cigarrettes? No... still have the last one. It's too precious for me. Can't remember when I last smoke... Can't remember how long have it been since this all started..."