CONTENT WARNING — RECOMMENDED 16+ 

This fictional diary contains dark humor, horror, body horror and disturbing themes.

Some later entries contain stronger 18+ violent content and will be clearly marked. 

The Diary is a weekly horror-comedy told through the eyes of Tiffany (Taffy), a 21 year-old girl surviving The Pastel Apocalypse of 1980. Every Sunday, a new diary entry is realesed for free on my website. 

If you are new, start from Entry 000 here <3

In 2019, when I changed the name of my shop to The Pastel Apocalypse, I had an entire world and storyline to share, complete with characters. But I never did, because I wasn’t quite sure how to tell it to you. I actually came up with two different storylines for the shop: the first one in 2019, and the second in 2020, when I started selling clothing too. This summer (2026), while working on the summer collection, I couldn’t help but come up with another story. I can’t help it, I just have way too much fun doing it.

So, now, you can enter my word. 

Enjoy! 

-Ayla A. Vigna

© 2026 Ayla A. Vigna. All rights reserved. The Diary and its original text, characters, and artwork may not be reproduced, distributed, adapted, or used commercially without prior written permission. Brief quotations for reviews and commentary are permitted with appropriate credit.

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

10/25/1980

Dear Diary,

The other day I left a pile of clothes on the kitchen table. My back hurts and I've stabbed my fingers more times than I can count because I lost the only thimble Mrs. Miller had in her sewing box.
Calvin and Jenny came downstairs together.
“Is this my shirt? So that's where it went.” Calvin picked up a plaid flannel shirt, questionable taste, but whatever.
“I mended everyone's clothes and made a few new things.” I wouldn't look either of them in the face. “If I can't hunt or help with the tests, I can do this. We need clothes.”
And while the two of them were looking through everything, I froze. There was a handkerchief in there that wasn't supposed to be.
I'd made it without thinking... Just to pass the time...
I grabbed it before Jenny could pick it up by accident. Then I dropped into the chair in front of the table.
“I made you a skirt.” I nodded toward it. “I didn't have time to take your measurements, but I can fix it if...” I couldn't talk anymore. My throat was closing up.
As Dean came down the stairs, I clearly saw Calvin walk over to him, grab him by the collar of his shirt and drag him out of the room. They disappeared into the living room.

“Taffy, I need you to actually talk to me.”
I didn't know what to do with my hands on the table. I kept squeezing the handkerchief between my fingers.
“I talk.”
She shook her head. “I can tell what's going on inside you, but if you want me to help you, you have to be honest. With me and with yourself.”
My lip started trembling. I stared at the ceiling so another waterfall wouldn't start pouring down my face.
Then all it took was one name to ruin everything. And she was the one who said it. “Trevor.”
And I broke. “We abandoned him, Jenny... alone. He took those bullets to save me and we left him there!” I was sobbing, my hands cold from the tears. “I left him alone in that hell while I was stealing boots off dead bodies and cassettes from record stores!”
I felt like I couldn't breathe. “He was left there all alone!”
And she did the one thing she knew I needed. She wrapped her arms around me and let my tears completely soak her sweater.
She only spoke once I had my breathing under control again.
“We had to leave, T. If we'd stayed, he would've taken that bullet for nothing.”
“But at least we wouldn't have left him alone. He woke up alone.” I insisted.
“I'm sure that, if he's alive, he'd be happy knowing you're out of there. Instead of trapped there with him.”
I wiped my tears with the handkerchief, then looked at it. An embroidered T and a tiny red sailboat. For that shitty song he loved. “I hate that song... but I didn't want to break the radio...”
“You don't hate the song...” she corrected me.
“I know.”
When she started tapping her fingers on the table again, I realized something my guilt had kept me from noticing.
“You and Calvin...” I started. “You've been spending a lot of time together, even though at first you didn't even want him touching you.”
She just murmured something, stroking the fabric of her new skirt.
“Actually, I should've figured it out from the way you look at him.”
She shook her head. “You know, T, I don't have a crush on him.”
“I'm not talking about crushes. He's the only uncontaminated one here.”
She sighed. “But he smells so good...”
“That's exactly why you need to stay away from him. Do you really want to risk biting him like I did with... you know...”
“The meat Dean brings back doesn't satisfy me, T...”

And then, after several failed attempts by Calvin, there were sounds in the house again. The TV screen finally came to life, even though it was full of snow, a constant hiss filling the room as Calvin flipped through channels at random. And then, a familiar voice.
“Good morning, survivors, this is Radio Apocalypse.” The voice was catching some interference, but it wasn't annoying.
A Billy Joel song started playing, and I immediately recognized the melody Dean had been whistling.
Cause somebody once did somebody wrong
But you'll be sleeping with the television on.
Everyone's shoulders relaxed as soon as the music started filling the house.

And in the end, I was the one who broke the silence between Dean and me that had lasted a little over a week. He wasn't fixing the car, because obviously he was taking his damn time with that.
I followed the melody of what I'd found out was Sleeping with the Television On.
And I found four horses in the barn.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
The guy just raised his eyebrows without answering.
“I'm talking to you, J.R. Ewing.”
He let out a short laugh. “What do you want, Rose?”
I tilted my head. “My name is Tif—”
He cut me off. “I don't care what your name is.”
Had no one ever slapped him before?
“We've been stuck here for weeks and you have horses?”
He was brushing the white one with grayish spots. “Key word: you have. Not we have.”
“Right, so they're not the Millers'. They're yours?”
He kept his back to me. “He's mine.” He stroked the white one's muzzle. “She's Scott's.” He nodded toward the dark brown one. “That one back there belonged to the Millers. But I've noticed she's pretty unpredictable...”
I waited a few seconds. “You pointed out three. There are four.”
“You can count. You're just full of fucking surprises, aren't you?”
Jesus Christ, he's unbearable. I don't even know why I wasted my time on him, now that I'm writing this...
“You're contaminated. A lot. It took you about twenty minutes to regenerate, so your contamination level must be similar to Jenny's. You should be hungry.”
He craned his neck toward me. “No.”
I narrowed my eyes, watching the idiot go right back to ignoring me like usual.
“What's the fourth one's name?” I asked.
He didn't answer. He just shook his head.
I walked around the horse, forcing him to look at me. “I asked what the fourth one's name is.”
“I'm not telling you the horse's name, Rose.”
I shook my head. “I'm not asking about the horse.”
He ran a hand through his hair. Then he put a cigarette between his lips.
“I mended most of the clothes I found in the house,” I started. “It's pretty obvious what belongs to who and which clothes you borrowed from Mr. Miller.” I sighed. “But I found some weird things. Four duffel bags, for example. Only one of them was full. Hawaiian shirts, a camera, and I'm pretty sure none of you three know how to use it.”
“Oh, give it a rest,” he interrupted.
“Floral shorts too. A little out of character for you guys, don't you think?”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I'm talking about the fourth one. The one you ate.”
He stared at me. For the first time, I don't think he was even breathing. “I'm not like you.”
“You are. You're hungry. You were hungry.”
Smoke slipped out of his mouth as he spoke. “Are you done?”
“Do cigarettes help with the hunger?” That was a real question. “Or did you hide a few bodies in the attic?” That one wasn't.
“Jesus Christ, you really know how to fucking piss me off, don't you?” He started walking toward me. “Do you ever shut the fuck up? Why don't you go back to crying over your dead boyfriend?”
A smack loud enough to almost scare the horses too. The cigarette flew out of his mouth and landed on the ground. And I was left with nothing but a stinging palm and the urge to hit him again.
He rubbed his jaw in silence. Picked the cigarette up off the ground and put it back between his lips. Disgusting.
I'd had enough.
In the living room, Calvin and Jenny were sitting close together talking, as usual. Stupid idiot. He had no idea she only looked at him like that because he reminded her of her favorite pizza.
“If you don't tell me how Dean manages not to be hungry, I'm going to bite you.”
“Whoa!” He shot to his feet.
“I'm hungry. If you don't talk, I'll rip your arms off and eat them.”
Jenny covered her mouth with one hand, but I knew she was actually struggling not to laugh. I could've gone another few weeks without eating, but she couldn't. And if we wanted to avoid a second massacre at the Miller house, he had to talk.
“Fuck, no!” Calvin snapped, his hands raised in front of him.
When I turned around, Dean was leaning against the front doorframe. “Don't even look at me.” I pointed at him.
“Right when I was about to give you the answer?”
Meanwhile, Jenny actually burst out laughing. “Fuck, sorry.” She giggled as she spoke to Calvin. “It's just that you're so cute I could take a bite out of you...”
“What?!” he snapped.
I pointed at Jenny. “This is what I mean. You don't let us eat, we're going to eat anyway.”
“First of all.” Dean stepped between us and Calvin. “You two aren't fucking eating anybody.” He crossed his arms. “Second, just because I'm about to tell you how I do it doesn't mean you can do it too.”
He pressed his lips together. “And it doesn't actually make the hunger go away... it keeps it under control.”
By then Jenny had started laughing hysterically.
“I drink blood. A little every night,” he admitted.
So she stopped laughing. “It doesn't make the hunger go away. It can't. It's not enough...”
“I said it wouldn't satisfy you.”
“I'm hungry,” Jenny insisted.
“Blood takes the edge off.”
“Blood doesn't fill your stomach.”
And while they argued, I stared at those two assholes, Dean and Calvin, completely speechless. Two idiots.
“Exactly how long did your shitty method work before you ate your fourth friend?”
The only thing filling the silence was the hiss of the television after it lost the radio signal.
Calvin turned to his friend. “How does she know?”
“Jesus Christ, Calvin, shut up.” He ran a hand through his hair.
“No, because I can't believe you actually think this...” I pointed at us. “...can be solved like that.”
“But he's doing fine now. He's not hungry,” Calvin explained. “My blood satisfies him.”
Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, his eyes fixed on the carpet.
“Calvin.” I called his name, and he looked at me from behind Dean's shoulder. “You're really naive,” I concluded.
He frowned, almost offended.
They hadn't solved anything. Dean had just turned one of his friends into a blood dispenser Jenny and I didn't have access to. Not that I wanted to drink his blood anyway. How do you just drink a glass of blood like that? Disgusting... yeah...
And I wasn't sure Jenny would be able to stop at the blood.
Anyway, for obvious reasons, the rule about human meat is gone. Jenny and I have some nice hunting trips ahead of us. Real ones. Not for poor rabbits and squirrels.
Anyway, a few days later I heard Calvin and Dean talking in the kitchen about that guy. It sounded like they'd brought him up specifically because I'd figured it out. They hadn't noticed I'd stopped on the stairs instead of going back to my room.
“I didn't tell her. She figured it out,” Dean insisted.
Calvin threw his arms out. “How do you figure out something like that without any clues? Come on.”
“From Trevor's fucking shirts.” He smiled.
And I almost slipped down the stairs. Four steps, for sure... I gasped loud enough to make them both turn around. “What did you say?” I pulled myself back up.
“Trevis,” Calvin repeated uncertainly.
I pressed my lips together. “Oh...” I nodded. “What a shitty name.” And I disappeared into my room.
Hopefully whoever we eat has a better name.
We're fine.
XOXOXO
Taffy

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

10/18/1980

Dear Diary,

The other morning I woke up earlier than usual, I̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶c̶h̶e̶d̶ ̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶a̶c̶r̶o̶s̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶a̶t̶t̶r̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶e̶x̶p̶e̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶l̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶n̶e̶x̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.
I could feel my heart vibrating, and as soon as I was awake enough, I understood why. The radio downstairs in the kitchen was on.
That annoying song was playing.
I don't understand what's so difficult about understanding that if the radio is supposed to be off, that means it stays off.
I stomped all the way to the kitchen.
“At seven-thirty, the room is still ours,” Dean said without looking up.
I grabbed the radio.
“We only turned it on to hear the updates, not for the music,” Calvin added.
The words to Sailing were vibrating between my hands. I threw the radio out the front door, like it was a giant hand grenade. Pieces went flying as soon as it hit the ground. But that song kept playing like some stupid chant. I walked barefoot out onto the road. I picked it back up and slammed it into the ground again. More than once.
And when it finally took its last breath, I went back inside.
“Sure,” Dean muttered, watching me from the table. “Hysterical.”
I went back to my room. He can think whatever he wants. Rules are rules.
Jenny woke up hours later while I was cutting up some sheets to sew a shirt. Of course, I still have to find a sewing machine. It's ridiculous that Mrs. Miller didn't have one.
“T, I was looking for the radio so we could put on Off the Wall while we eat breakfast, but I can't find it. Dean told me to ask you when they left the kitchen.”
“It's dead,” I grumbled, crouched on the floor with the scissors in my hand.
She burst out laughing. “Sure. Where is it?”
“The radio is dead and smashed to pieces like Mr. Miller.”
Her smile faded a little. “Are you kidding? How are we supposed to listen to music now?!” she started. “And why?!”
I shook my head, trying to concentrate on the eyelet fabric spread across the floor. “It was annoying.”
“Tiffany.”
She had her arms crossed, and when she does that, it means she's getting angry. The problem was, I was getting angry too.
“They turned the radio on this morning, so I smashed it because if people can't follow the rules, then the toy gets taken away.”
“You can't take away the only entertainment we have just because you woke up in a bad mood. That's not how this works.”
“I woke up in a bad mood because of them! And the shitty songs on the radio!” I slammed the scissors onto the floor before getting up and walking out of the room.
And this week it really felt like everyone was conspiring to piss me off.
Besides everyone trying to make me feel bad about murdering the radio, which, for the record, wouldn't have happened if they'd followed the rules, Dean still had something else in store for me.
Apparently I had two choices: give them more blood samples, absolutely not, or go hunting with him.
I would've preferred another bullet in the forehead, but I chose the second one anyway.
There was a pretty big stretch of woods behind the house. We were too isolated to go looking for supplies in the nearest city and still make it back home before dark.
So we went target shooting. Except the targets were poor little creatures.
“You could've left me at home.” I stepped over the taller branches as I followed him.
“And let you cut up all the tablecloths and curtains until you'd turned everything into scraps?”
I folded my arms across my chest. “You turned my clothes into scraps.”
He shook his head. He still never looked me in the face. Not that I wanted him to.
“We have to cooperate here. We made a deal. If you won't help with the tests, you help find food.”
I rolled my eyes. But I couldn't stop a little smile when I saw him limp. He only did it once and straightened up immediately. But I saw it.
But then he aimed at a squirrel. I grabbed the barrel of the rifle. “Are you insane?!”
He shoved me. I mean, that asshole actually shoved me and fired.
I heard the poor little thing whimper. I ran over. It was covered in blood. “How can you do something like that?! You're a monster!” My face was completely wet, like someone had turned on the faucets connected to my eyes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“It was defenseless!” I picked it up in my hands, but I could barely look at it. Its chest was rising and falling quickly, desperately trying to breathe.
“We have to eat!”
“Eat something else!” My scream echoed through the trees.
He looked almost speechless. “You smashed a man's skull to pieces. Your friend ate a woman alive. You eat people.”
“He was shooting at me!” I stood up. “That man kept shooting me in the chest! He set my car on fire!” I snapped. “The others killed my boyfriend! They threw me into tanks full of Piranhas just to see how long it took me to regenerate! Of course I wanted to see every single one of them dead!” I held my breath. I hadn't wanted to tell him those things.
I pressed my lips together, the squirrel now lifeless against my chest. “Fuck you.”
And I left. Maybe that's what everyone wanted from me this week. For me to leave them alone. Or maybe they were the ones who needed to leave me alone.
I put the little creature in a small box with some flowers and buried it in the yard. While I was digging in the dirt, I found a star-shaped pendant. It was really pretty...
My face felt swollen, and I'll never forgive myself for letting Dean see me like that. But how can anyone kill something so small?
But also... how did he manage not to eat humans?
Asshole.
I spent a lot of time alone. I finally looked around the entire house. Of course the Millers had a television in the living room but not a fucking sewing machine.
Anyway, the TV doesn't work, and the silence in this house sucks. I really wish I could've put some music on. I miss music. The only sounds in the house are coughing coming from the forbidden room, Dean whistling some unbearable song I don't know, and Calvin and Jenny talking in his room.
The piece of shit came back with two dead rabbits, anyway. Obviously I didn't eat them. He and I haven't looked at each other or spoken since... since that...
He is fixing the car, though. I can see him from my bedroom window, lying underneath it like an idiot pretending he knows what he's doing.
I finally found a needle and thread in one of Mrs. Miller's boxes. I'm making a skirt for Jennyfer. She can't keep wearing those horrible pants she stole from one of the closets in this house. We're already stuck wearing the hideous sweaters because it's getting colder. The pants too? No.
I went looking for her to take her measurements, but she was still with him.
Jenny turned to look at me.
“Yeah?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I was looking for the scissors.”
Anyway, I can tell by the way she taps her fingers on the table or the couch. She pretends everything is fine, but she's hungry.
I don't understand her. I thought we were a team.
I read what she wrote in my diary last week. Maybe loneliness is the price you pay for leaving someone behind.

Maybe next week will be better.

But the hunger is coming back. The real kind.

Tiffany

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵃˡ ⁱᵈᵉᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ.

10/08/1980

Diary.

I don't want to be the one writing to you, but I need someone to confide in. And I'm so alone right now.
They put a hole in Taffy's head.

The other night, I was in the room Calvin had told me could be mine and Taffy's if we cooperated. He was still trying to convince me to let him take blood samples. Obviously not.
First blood, then what? The Piranhas? Again?
He was sitting on the bed next to me. We talked for I don't know how many hours, and I found out that, just like me, he lost his brother when he was little.
I thought I could trust him, that maybe he could understand me, at least a little. He had been kind. And he'd brought me some of Mrs. Miller's meat without the other one seeing him.
But I'm afraid he only did it to keep me distracted.

I started hearing gunshots outside the window, and he reassured me by simply saying Dean had gone hunting. I asked him to take me to Taffy, but they still didn't trust us enough to leave us together in the same room... because of the flare gun...

Then I heard more noises coming from downstairs, and again Calvin reassured me. But several minutes later, Taffy was screaming my name in the hallway.
I went to her, with the traitor following behind me. I don't know why she lied to me. Maybe she was in shock. She told me she'd shot Dean in the head, that he'd proposed some sick game where they had to hunt each other. And Calvin just stared at me without saying a word...

We wanted to run away, get as far away from that house as possible. Calvin grabbed me by the wrist, and I melted beneath his fingers.
“Don't ever touch me again,” I growled. I was already flexing my regrown fingers.
He followed us, and then Dean appeared in the doorway.
He put a bullet through her head.
Without hesitating.
He killed her.
He killed my best friend.
My sister, even if we weren't related by blood, was lying on the floor in front of me.

And I should've gotten angry, made a scene. Instead, I just burst into tears. And while Dean kept telling me to get up, I desperately tried to wake Tiffany...
I asked him to shoot me too.
And I really snapped out of it when I felt the traitor's hands on my shoulder. I think I broke his nose. Tiffany would've high-fived me for that...
Dean didn't fire any more bullets. Actually, he dropped the gun on the floor while telling the other one to stop me. I grabbed a gun from the kitchen sink that I'd found while running around the house with no idea where I was going.
They both went quiet. I heard someone coughing in the hallway. I found the diary in a box with some of our other things, and I hid in the attic...
But I can't stop crying.
This might be the last time anyone ever writes to you.
But if I survive, I promise I'll write to you every Sunday like my Taffy did.
But I have to kill them. I have to.
I have to eat them.

Jennifer.

10/11/1980

Dear Diary,
That massive Piece of Shit shot me in the head.
While I was trying to wash my hands, I might have started hyperventilating, but only because it smelled horribly like dead people by then. You couldn't breathe.
Then Jenny heard me screaming in the upstairs hallway. My eyes were red, but that was because of the horrible smell.

Anyway, we wanted to leave, but as soon as I got to the door, that piece of shit was standing right in front of me.
“Hi, Rose.”
Then another fucking gunshot, and my brain completely shut off. I stopped existing.
I had shot Dean. I saw the hole in his forehead...
That means... At the resort... the bullet...

W̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶f̶t̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

I woke up a few days later in a bed, in a room I'd never seen before. The worst part, though, was the headache drilling straight through my brain.
It didn't take me long to realize that the girl screaming outside the window was Jenny. And as soon as a gunshot went off, I leaned over to look. My fingers pressed against the glass, just like when I was waiting for her there...

“Put the gun down.” Dean had his hands up, but not very convincingly. Calvin, meanwhile, had reached a hand toward her, but there were too many feet between them for it to do any good.
Jenny fired another shot toward Calvin to keep him from getting closer. “If I don't use the gun, I'll use my teeth to rip your face off!”
Obviously they weren't actually afraid, because they weren't afraid of dying.
They couldn't be.
Just like us.

I started walking around the house. I wanted to run to her, but I knew that wouldn't solve anything.
So I looked for him, and I found him.
The third guy, the one who kept having coughing fits.
He had an IV of blood hooked up to his arm, his eyes half closed, and a handkerchief stained with blood and lilac liquid in his hand.
Obviously I hadn't started wandering around the house without looking for a weapon first. The Piece of Shit had left his loaded revolver on the kitchen table. Mr. Miller wasn't there anymore, anyway. The rug and the table were still covered in blood, though. It's true, men really can't do shit.

I looked out the other window. The guy had heard me come into the room, but he didn't move a muscle. Lying in bed, he just coughed a few more times...
And finally, after way too many days of silence, I could talk again.
“Hey, assholes!” The two idiots were a little farther away. They looked up. But my heart really started beating again when I saw Jenny's smile light up when she saw me.
“I found your fucking little friend!” I started yelling at them again. They exchanged a look. Dean motioned for Calvin to stay where he was.
“First I'm gonna fill him with bullets. Then I'm gonna cut his fucking head off. Let's see just how immortal contaminated people really are, what do you think?”
“Don't say stupid shit!” Dean yelled back.

So I fired. Obviously. Fuck, people who don't take me seriously piss me off.
Jenny started laughing, shouting insults at the guys. Calvin put his hands on his head. Dean didn't move.
I hadn't actually shot the guy. Not yet. But they couldn't know that.
“I'm doing him a favor. Why keep a contaminated person alive when he's just going to explode into a thousand pieces eventually?” I growled. “And I've seen plenty of them.”
Calvin kept looking insistently at Dean until, with their hands clearly in sight, Jenny walked them into the house. Right up to the bedroom doorway. Calvin's sigh of relief when he saw his friend was still alive was loud.
“Ros—”
No, I didn't let him finish that shitty name. It cost me three bullets, but I finally got him right in the thigh.
He just clenched his teeth and stayed on his feet. But blood was pouring down his leg like a waterfall, mixed with the pink of the radiation.
“You cover your colored hair with dye, I'm guessing,” I growled.
Jenny's eyes went wide, still behind them with the gun steady in her hand. “They're contaminated?”
I nodded. “I shot him in the head.”
She shook her head. “You didn't shoot him in the head. He shot you in the head.”
I turned to look at her, but my gun was already pointed back at the guy in bed. “Of course I shot him. What do you mean, you don't believe me?”
She shook her head. “Yeah, but...”
Dean interrupted us. “Jesus Christ, are you done?!”

“Asshole, you knew we wouldn't die from a shot to the head.”
He just smirked, one hand pressed against the hole in his thigh.
Calvin kept his hands in sight but moved closer to his friend. “Dean, is there an exit wound?”
Dean shook his head. Calvin started talking to Jenny. “Please, without an exit wound, his leg is going to regenerate with the bullet still inside. Let me take it out.”
“No,” I answered.
The guy's hands were shaking, unlike Dean's. With a gun that close and no room for Jenny to miss, he actually looked scared of dying.
“Please, he could have trouble walking if it stays in there.”
I tilted my head. “Then you can cut his leg off and he'll have a brand-new one to use afterward.”
“Why don't you cut it off yourself if you're so good at this? You wasted three bullets just trying to hit me in the thigh. What exactly do you want?”
At that moment, Jenny pressed the barrel of her gun against Calvin's temple. “Tell your friend to shut up.”
The guy closed his eyes like he was looking to God for help.
Dean allowed himself one tiny step toward me. “Shoot me again. Go ahead. You can't kill me anyway.”
So I pointed the gun at his head again, and he pressed his forehead right against the barrel.
“Come on,” he insisted.
And the asshole was smiling.
“No, there's no fun in shooting someone immortal.” I moved the barrel away. “But I'm starting to doubt Calvin is. Am I wrong?”
Calvin spoke immediately. “Dean, let's cooperate.”
“Like your friend in the bed. But we all already know about him.” My gun went back toward the guy with the IV.
“No, fuck, enough!” Calvin snapped, standing perfectly still. “I'm not contaminated.”
“Calvin, shut up.”
“Scott doesn't have DNA that's compatible with the radiation.” Calvin nodded toward the guy in bed. “I'm trying to cure him, to clean the radiation out of his blood, but he's only getting worse.” The words poured out of him without a breath. “Your DNA has clearly mutated because of the radiation. I don't know why, but that's what I need to understand so I can save him and make Dean normal again.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dean put a hand over his face.
“You called me a fucking cannibal when you're a fucking monster just like me.” I looked at Dean. “But don't use me as a mirror. I don't hide what I've become.”

A bitter little smile appeared on his face. “Jesus Christ, you're both so fucking annoying.”
“Dean,” Calvin warned him.
“I shot you, I insulted you, and you two are just trying to survive. So we're the bad guys, right?” He started limping toward me, so I moved closer to Scott.
“We spent two weeks locked up in that fucking barn watching those Miller assholes.” He gestured toward the window. “Then you two show up, make a fucking mess, draw attention to yourselves, and even kill both of them.” He leaned slightly toward me. “You're two spoiled little girls.”
“Dean.”
“You especially, Rose.”

And shooting him in the head certainly would've kept him quiet for about fifteen minutes.
But... I dropped the gun on the floor and shoved him. He didn't move, but I walked away toward the door anyway. Jenny started asking where I was going. Eventually she followed me, leaving the two assholes alone in the room.
I took her hand. “Let's go home.”
“Home?”
“Let's get out of here.” We were already on the porch, but I suddenly stopped.
“What? What is it?”
“My cassettes, My diary, and My clothes.” I shook my head. “I'm not leaving them here.”

I was walking around the house looking for my stuff, cassettes scattered across the couch... completely ignoring the two assholes.
“Did you rip up some of my clothes?!” I held up two shirts that were completely ruined and covered in blood.
“We had to clean up the mess you made.” Dean was leaning against a cabinet.
“With my fucking clothes?”
“You stole those.”
I held my breath, picturing the remains of his head decorating the wallpaper in red and pink.
“You're fucking animals,” I growled.
“And where exactly are you planning to go without a car?” he asked.
“We'll walk.”
He nodded. “Sure. Sounds like a fantastic idea.”
“Don't fucking talk to me.” I snapped, picking up two more pieces of my clothing.
Eventually Calvin came into the kitchen too. “If you stay...” he started.
“No.” Dean and I said it at the same time.
“Let me finish. If you stay—”
I looked back at Calvin. “I said no.”
“Dean can fix the car.” He crossed his arms.
We all turned to look at him, Jenny included.
Dean shook his head.
“He fixes your car, and you let me take blood samples just to study them. Nothing else. No experiments.” He looked at Jenny for that last part.

“Get lost,” I growled.
Jenny stopped me. “T, we can actually leave if they fix the car.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Dean had already limped away.

So now we're stuck on this shitty farm.
But we took the two biggest bedrooms, and we divided the house into time slots so we never have to see each other.
There are a few simple rules: nobody shoots anybody. Turning on the radio is strictly forbidden. We can only use my cassettes for music.
No eating human beings. Honestly, I don't understand that rule at all, but whatever. They'll change their minds.
Scott's room is off limits.
No personal questions. Actually, we're not supposed to talk to each other at all.

Calvin took blood from us once, and he's going to have to make it last. He has a duffel bag full of weird little gadgets... I had a duffel bag too... except mine was full of clothes.
Now burned or completely ruined.
I took down some curtains. I want to make something to wear out of them.
In the end, all that matters is that Jenny is here with me.
So, everything is fine.

XOXOXO

Taffy.

A note from the author
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or emotional distress, please reach out to someone you trust, a mental health professional, or a crisis support service in your area. You are not alone, and support is available.

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

10/04/1980

Dear Diary,

Our escape didn't exactly go as planned... In my defense, I think the flare gun wasn't working properly.
Jenny aimed at the doorknob, the room filled with light, the flare bounced behind us, and flames shot up against one of the walls.
“There's no fucking way I'm dying in a fire now!” I snapped. My hands kept pounding against the door while Jenny tried to stomp out the flames.
As soon as the door opened, someone grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out like I was a doll. I ended up at his feet, and I hate to admit it, but Dean's cowboy boots were nicer than mine. Dark brown and cream, clearly handmade. They were a little worn, but that had only made the leather softer.
Dean spoke while I was still at his feet. “Get up.”
I straightened up, fixing my hair a little. “So we had to set the house on fire to get you to open the door.”
He ignored me, as usual. “Calvin, is it out?” he asked.
His friend, the one in the orange T-shirt, came out of the storage closet with a wet blanket and just nodded. Jenny followed him with her arms crossed.
“There are three of you. Where's the third one?” I looked around.
Dean grabbed my arms, a rope in his hands. I pulled away, but he didn't let go of my wrist.
“What are you, some kind of creep who ties girls up?”
He stared at me blankly, running his tongue over his teeth. “I'm a guy tying up a cannibal. Who's apparently an arsonist now, too.”
I shook my head, clearing my throat while he tied a knot around my wrists. “Neither Jenny nor I are cannibals. We don't eat infected people, we eat humans.”
I clearly saw the confused look Calvin gave me.
“We're not human,” I explained.
Dean started pushing me back into the storage closet.
“No, wait!” I tried to push back, but he kept shoving me. “It's not like we want to eat you. I'm not even hungry right now.” I shrugged.
Dean shook his head. “You couldn't anyway.”
“I'm telling you, we're not human, so it's not cannibalism. We're made of more radiation than blood and flesh.” I caught Calvin's eye past Dean. He was leading Jenny toward another room. Jenny was talking to him, but I couldn't hear what she was saying.
“We probably eat flesh to reabsorb what we're missing. Blood, something human.”
Dean stopped me, gripping my shoulder. He exchanged a look with Calvin.
Obviously, my theory made sense.
Jenny had convinced the two assholes to let her go to sleep. She was exhausted after everything she'd eaten. And honestly, we hadn't stopped for a second since we escaped.
I was on an empty stomach, though, and I really wanted to steal Dean's cowboy boots, even if they would've been way too big for me.
I tapped my fingers on the table while considering whether I should reach over and grab a little piece of Mrs. Miller, just for a taste.
Calvin and Dean were sitting across from me. The stupider one had a cigarette between his lips.
“So you admit what I'm saying makes sense. We're not cannibals.”
Dean shook his head. “You're still a cannibal. What I'm interested in is the part about reabsorbing your humanity.”
Calvin leaned forward. “When you eat humans, do you feel... more human?”
My eyes kept wandering toward the body... The blood covering the table smelled so good... “Yes...” I mumbled. Then I shook my head. “I mean... no.” All I could see was that delicious red meat on the table.
Dean snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Fuck, you're a lost cause, aren't you?”
He got up and walked away with Calvin for I don't know how long. When they came back, though, I wasn't exactly presentable. Not that I'd been particularly presentable before, with my colander T-shirt.
I tried to wipe the blood off my face, but maybe my dirty hands only made it worse.
The asshole put a hand to his forehead like it was my fault. They're the ones who left me alone with Mrs. Miller. And anyway, you could tell she'd been dead for a few hours by then, because really fresh meat tastes completely different.
Calvin suggested something to me. Which I obviously said no to.
Running tests on me and Jenny. I nearly choked on air. Is he insane?
He suggested drawing some blood and wanted to add something else, but I stopped him. No more tests, no more of those tests...
How could they even think about taking me back there, even if not physically...
They'd put Jenny and me in separate rooms. Then Dean came to offer me a compromise, since neither Jenny nor I had agreed to help them with their fucking insane experiments.
He said they wouldn't let us leave unless he was dead.
“Shouldn't be too hard for you to kill someone, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Not for you either, if you're the one suggesting it.”
He shrugged. “You're not someone. You're something.” He moved a little closer. “You think your life is worth more than someone who isn't infected just because you're hungry.”
I moved a little closer to him. “Do you eat steak? Pork? Bacon? What makes your life worth more than theirs? What's the difference, then? Other than wanting to survive?”
That conversation somehow turned into an interesting recreational activity.
Remember the hay maze? The one next to the rotten pumpkin patch.
It's really pretty at night, even if it's definitely way too dark. There are scarecrows inside with smashed pumpkin heads.
Dean and Calvin use it to “train.”
That's why, as soon as he suggested it, I told him he'd have an advantage.
He gave me a loaded gun, a revolver with all six bullets.
“This is the trigger.” He nodded toward it.
I snatched it out of his hands. “I know what a fucking trigger is.”
He shrugged.
“Open the spinny thing.” I handed it back to him. “So I can see if it actually has all the bullets.”
“The cylinder.”
I insisted. “The spinny thing.”
Then he showed me his. Similar, maybe a little bigger. There was only one bullet inside, but I didn't trust him.
“You've got more in your pockets.”
He just raised his hands, inviting me to check for myself. His disgusting cigarette smell hit me as soon as I stepped closer. He stood completely still like an asshole while he let me stick my hands into his pockets.
“Two entrances. We go in from opposite sides and hunt each other.” He nodded toward the gun. “First one to put a bullet in the other's head wins.” He sighed. “I'll give you a one-minute head start. Maybe you'll figure out where the fuck you're going before I come looking for you.”
He gave me a flashlight, but I threw it over one of the walls to throw him off with the light. Sure, I couldn't see much without it, but that didn't matter. The thought of being trapped somewhere again... Jenny and I deserved our autumn summer, free.
I got scared a couple of times when I ran into those fucking scarecrows in the corridors... not that scared, though. I only shot one or two of them...
I heard him laughing after my shots. Really laughing.
He talked through the maze, but I couldn't tell where his voice was coming from.
“I'm guessing that since you became a cannibal, you've eaten someone you cared about.” I kept turning around, not knowing where to go. “And you don't feel even a little guilty? Or maybe you do, and that's why you're trying so hard to convince yourself it isn't cannibalism?”
A voice behind me. “How many people did you leave behind, Rose?”
I fired another bullet as soon as I turned around. I don't know where I shot, but it wasn't at him. He stepped out of the darkness, lit only by the moonlight.
“My name—” He cut me off, his gun now pointed at me. So I started running the other way. And he laughed again.
“Why don't you do what you did with the Millers? You didn't hesitate to bash Jonathan's skull in.” His voice followed me.
And then, while I was running, I crashed straight into him. I fired again and heard him grunt.
“Hungry?”
“Stop it!”
I was lying on top of him. He was gripping my shoulder, the barrel of his gun against my head, but I had mine pressed against his.
“You've only used three.”
I pulled the trigger. Fuck, I hated that fucking horrible sound. Fuck. Unbearable. Jesus Christ.
“Four.” I got up, leaving a hole in the guy's head.
I wasn't crying, my eyes just burned like hell. Probably the gunpowder or the hay.
The house was so quiet it felt like no one was there, but it was so late that everyone was probably asleep.
My hands refused to stay still, a tremor running all the way up my arms. I threw the gun into the sink as soon as I started washing my hands.
They were covered in dirt and blood, my nail polish completely chipped. I looked like a savage...
And obviously, my shirt was still full of holes.
Everything had holes in it.

Taffy

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁸⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ᶜᵃⁿⁿⁱᵇᵃˡⁱˢᵐ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

09/27/1980

Dear Diary,

They advertised these cereals on the radio called The Pastel Apocalypse Cereals. They kept saying they wanted to send them to the survivors in California as “supplies,” and they were running a poll, inviting us to call them directly. So, as soon as I found a phone, obviously I called. Jenny listened to my voice straight from the radio.
“Hi, my name is Taffy.”
“Hi, Taffy! Where are you calling from?”
“Do you know when the airports are reopening?”
The man hesitated, then forced a laugh. “So tell me, how would you like to receive your free cereal?”
I pursed my lips. “By helicopter, directly into my lap.”
When I got back to the car, Jenny gave me a smile. “Already tired of our vacation?”
I shrugged. “Of course not, I was just curious.”
You know what they did next? They dropped fifty thousand boxes of cereal from helicopters over the contaminated area of California. I know because one of them fell on my head while I was sitting in the car.
They tasted like shit, I've never eaten anything more disgusting, but I have to admit the box was cute, all colorful, with a little white bear whose face was covered in cherry jam. I decided it was cherry. Jenny says it's strawberry. We need to call the radio and ask.
At least they washed the taste of gasoline out of my mouth. Stealing gas sucks, by the way. And there are people who do this just so they don't have to pay for it? We don't have a choice, most of the gas pumps are empty or don't work anyway. We have two gas cans on the back seat, I kept turning around to check on them like they were our children...

Our convertible was getting prettier and prettier. We'd stuck a bunch of cute stickers all over the hood, although then Jenny accidentally ran someone over and they got covered in blood...
We drove away, obviously, because it's not like she did it on purpose. I was looking for the cassettes we found in a store, so we wouldn't have to risk some weird song coming on the radio... And I got annoyed because, among all the other crap, the back seat is now covered in coupons for 50% off.
“What the hell are all these papers?!” I grumbled, throwing them all over the floor.
“I found them in some magazines. They might come in handy.”
“Everything is 100% off in stores, Jen...” I insisted, by then I was more on the back seat than the front one.
“Sooner or later, people are going to want to use some kind of currency again. Coupons are the solution, trust me.”
“I don't think so.” I grumbled, digging through the papers.
“Hey, don't judge me. At least I didn't steal boots off a dead girl.”
My head almost unscrewed itself from how fast I turned to look at her. “You literally told me, ‘Yeah, take them, who cares!’”
She stared at me indignantly, shifting in her seat to get a better look at me, with only one hand on the wheel. “That's not the point! If I told you to shoot someone, would you do it?!”
My mouth fell open in disbelief. “Of course I'd shoot them, I trust your judgment!”
“But you don't trust my coupons!”

And then my shoulder slammed into the dashboard while a man's face stared at us through the windshield.
“Fuck!” Jenny started jerking the wheel around, trying to get him to slide off the car. The problem was, I was almost the one sliding out.
Anyway, as we kept driving, that guy got back up off the road. So he was fine. Even if his arm was shaped a little weird.

We were listening to Hit Me With Your Best Shot by Pat Benatar at full volume, and I was giving the performance of my life when we stopped in front of a farm in San Jacinto. A huge hay maze next to an abandoned pumpkin patch caught our attention. That red house looked perfect for us to stay in for a few weeks after that endless, nonstop road trip...
We were about to get out when the shooting started. We both ducked under the dashboard.
“Taffy, if that's YOU shooting, I swear to God!” Jenny screamed, her hands over her ears and her eyes shut. I had my hands clasped over the back of my head. “WITH WHAT BULLETS?!”
She started screaming over the gunshots and the music still blasting at full volume. “I don't want to die! I don't want to die!”
A man's voice yelled from the house. “Infected! Get the hell off my property!”
Right after that came a bang even louder than the other shots. The car started sinking on one side. I sat up without thinking, waving my arms around like a lunatic. “You fucking asshole, how are we supposed to leave if you shot out our tire?!”
The man held his rifle confidently. “We don't want contaminated people here! Get out!”
“And I'm tell—”
I felt an insane stab of pain in my side. He didn't just graze me, he put an actual hole in me. And my flesh? Fine, it grows back. My California T-shirt? THAT doesn't regenerate. “You put a hole in my shirt?! Are you insane?!” I yelled.
His wife's head popped out through the doorway. “Shoot her, Jonathan! Shoot her!”

“No! Don't shoot her!” I threw my hands up as I tried to move closer to them. And you know what they did? They turned my shirt into a colander. They stared at me in shock, maybe they realized they'd ruined my shirt while I just kept walking toward them. I don't even know how, but the last bullet missed me. I wish it hadn't...
It hit one of the gas cans...
I had both hands over my mouth as I watched the flames destroy our beloved car...
I turned to look at him. I was way too close by then. “Jonathan, you're so fucking rude.”
He was busy reloading the rifle. I grabbed it by the barrel and started pulling. He looked at me like I was some kind of monster. ME? You're the one who shot me seven times...
He really wouldn't let go. He only loosened his grip when Jenny jumped on his wife and sent her straight onto the kitchen table. She bit into her jugular like she was a sandwich. As soon as I had the rifle in my hands, I smashed it into his head. He could barely stay on his feet, but he still wouldn't give up. One of his eyes was dangling underneath his nose.
“That's disgusting, Jonathan!” I hit him in the head again. He finally fell, but he still looked alive. His mouth kept moving like he was trying to say something. If his eye had still been inside its socket, he probably would've been looking at his wife while Jenny feasted on her flesh. We got pretty lucky finding something to eat in the end.

I was about to pull his eye off, since it was already hanging out anyway, and I couldn't wait to eat some more. Something cold pressed against the back of my head.
“Step away from Mr. Miller before I decorate the floor with your brain.”
Jenny was still chewing with her cheeks full. She wiped her mouth with her arm, then grabbed the unloaded gun tucked into her pants and pointed it at whoever was standing behind me. As she moved, the now-dead woman's head fell to the floor with a thud.
Another voice came from behind me. “Did you just eat Mrs. Miller?”
Jenny made a face. “She was loud.”

The guy pressing the gun against my head spoke again. “Get up. Hands in the air.”
Jenny grunted. “I have a gun too.” She shook it like it was a toy.
The other voice spoke. “Do you even know how to use it?”
We both scoffed, except she said no and I said yes.
She leaned slightly toward me. “So we're liars now, too? On top of being thieves?”
I almost laughed. My hands were shaking like they had on that day...
He pressed the gun against my head again. “You're fucking murderers and cannibals. On top of being infected.”
I was about to correct him because, obviously, as we've already established, we're not cannibals, but I understand that someone who doesn't know us wouldn't know that.
When I slowly turned to look at him, he pressed the barrel against my forehead. A toothpick in his mouth and sunglasses over his eyes. A pack of cigarettes tucked under the short sleeve of his white T-shirt.
His friend was holding a dirty baseball bat and wearing an orange T-shirt that looked really good against his dark skin.

It was the first time since we'd escaped that we'd seen anyone our age.
The guy with the gun nodded toward Jenny. “Put your gun down. Or do you want me to blow your brain out first?”
“You people are extremely rude on this farm,” I snapped.
He raised his eyebrows. “To people like you? Absolutely.”
I heard Jenny drop the gun. His friend quickly picked it up and checked the magazine. Then he showed it to the guy holding me at gunpoint.
“Dean.”
Dean rolled his eyes with an annoying little smirk. “Of course you're walking around with unloaded guns. Neither of you looks particularly smart.” He tilted his head. “But I wouldn't expect much from a couple of contaminated girls driving around with their music blasting.”
Why did the most annoying one have to point his gun at my head instead of my side? Why did everyone else get it wrong when they shot at me, but he didn't?

“So? Are we going to introduce ourselves, Dean, or are you just going to shoot me?” I hissed.
He shook his head. “I don't care what your names are.” He shifted the toothpick between his lips with his tongue.

What else is there to tell you? I heard someone coughing outside the house, so I think there are three of those assholes. They locked us in a fucking storage closet. We're still in here. It's probably been years by now... definitely an hour...
You know what pisses me off the most? They went through all our stuff that survived the car fire.
“Am I imagining it, or is Queen playing on the radio?” Jenny looked at me, frowning.
I pressed my head against the door. “That's not the radio, that's one of my cassettes!” I smacked my hand against the wood. “Hey, assholes! Keep your hands off our stuff!”
I heard footsteps on the other side of the door.
“Damn, Rose, I have to admit, you've got a pretty good cassette collection.” He knocked twice on the door.
I kept yelling, but he'd already walked away.
“Dean! You're an asshole! Come back here!”
It's uncomfortable in here and my ass hurts, the floor is hard... Anyway, Jenny's been digging around in here for a while and I think she found a gun...
No... it's a flare gun...
We're going to break down the door now.

XOXOXO

Taffy. (Not Rose.)

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

09/20/1980

Dear Diary,

I'm so happy. Have you ever wondered what it's like to have access to every kind of store and be able to take whatever you want? I have. And it's amazing.
Jenny and I have been traveling aimlessly around California for a week now. We ended up in a little town called Corona, and it's completely abandoned. So everything is free.
I got this beautiful souvenir T-shirt that says California on it with these stylized pink palm trees. I love it. But Jenny and I also had an argument inside the souvenir shop...
I was looking for my size, the lights were flickering, so it wasn't exactly easy to see, and it was ridiculously quiet...
Jenny appeared beside me with a smile, her hands behind her back.
"Right or left?" She asked.
I looked at her, confused. "Right."
When she opened her hand, I saw a T-shaped keychain.
I frowned. "I don't want it."
"What do you mean you don't want it? It's a souvenir."
I shook my head. "Why would I want a keychain with a T on it?!" I grumbled, going back to looking through the shirts. "I don't need that initial."
She hesitated for a few seconds. "T for Taf—"
I cut her off. "I don't need it."
"Taffy, are you stupid?"
Obviously I'd understood that she meant T for Taffy... but I don't need a T hanging from my bag. She was upset, though, I noticed immediately. So while she was staring at the magnets, I went and grabbed two keychains.
I dangled them in front of her eyes. Same letter.
"F for Fuck you, maybe?" She crossed her arms.
I nodded. "And for Friends..."
"Fuck you is funnier." She giggled. I couldn't hold it in either.
Anyway, weirdly enough, when something is free, you're less likely to take it. When I go shopping and can't afford to buy whatever I want, I want everything. But this week I've left a ridiculous amount of clothes and shoes on the shelves.
We do have three bags full of stuff in the trunk now, though. Obviously we needed new clothes for fall, but it's still not much compared to everything we could've taken.
I found a pair of caramel-colored suede cowboy boots that I absolutely love. The windows were already smashed and the mannequins had been thrown all over the place, but luckily whoever looted the store before us left my exact size behind in that style. Okay, actually, they were on a dead girl's feet. But what was she going to do with them anyway?
Supermarkets are pretty useless to us, we mostly steal water and sodas. We've been eating nothing but normal food for a week and we're getting hungry again. And anyway, I'd like to make one thing clear because Jenny insists otherwise.
What we're doing isn't cannibalism. Technically, we're not human anymore. Jenny can melt her limbs on command and spits out blue slime. There's nothing human about us. We've simply changed our diet, that's all.
One of the many supermarkets we visited still had a radio plugged in and playing. I was alone in the cereal aisle, there was a man's severed head on the shelf next to me, and Sailing came on... I can't stand that song anymore, I must've listened to it way too many times this summer. I wasted the last three bullets I had left in my gun.
One hit a wall, another hit the checkout counter, but the third one got the radio. That fucking piece-of-shit radio deserved it. I'm pretty sure the severed head was judging my aim, though...
And anyway, shooting the radio didn't help, because the deafening sound of the gunshots took me back there for more than a second, leaving this endless ringing in my ears. And if the gun would just stay still between shots, I definitely wouldn't have wasted two bullets trying to kill a radio. Then Jenny got pissed at me because she started screaming, thinking someone outside the supermarket was shooting at us, and started firing outside... so she ran out of bullets too.
Not my fault, anyway.
You know what I'd really love to eat right now? Some eyes... We finished them almost immediately... I think they only lasted a few hours after we escaped. Such a shame...
The radio, meanwhile, keeps reminding everyone between songs that people have to remain in isolation, that all the airports are closed and no one is allowed to try to cross California's borders. Also, apparently all the radio stations went down except for one that seems to be new, it's called Radio Apocalypse, which is stupid because this isn't an apocalypse. Apocalypses are obviously much bigger and more dangerous than this.
Plus, sometimes there are helicopters flying around randomly above our heads, but I think they're just minding their own fucking business up there, because I gave one of them the middle finger from the car and they didn't even shoot me.
The only thing I can really complain about is all the dead bodies lying around the streets and inside the stores.
When we finally found a motel, we picked one of the nicest rooms... And there was a girl completely splattered all over the clean sheets. Seriously, just like my boss, do these people never think about the ones who are still alive and have to deal with the mess they leave behind?!
And the smell... Perfume is another thing we've been stealing a lot of. Although one time I sprayed some and, mixed with the smell of everything rotting, it made me throw up in the street.
It was kind of liberating, though.
Anyway, while I was looking for something in the car and Jenny was driving, I found that fucking box with the radioactive slime in it. So I threw it out.
"What are you doing?!" Jenny slammed on the brakes so hard I almost smashed my head into something.
"And what the hell do you need it for?!"
"It's a flashlight!"
"We can steal a flashlight."
Jenny raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a thief."
"We stole a car, clothes, dead people's eyes..." I started listing them, counting them on my fingers.
"We borrowed them." She corrected me as she got out of the car.
"Even the eyes?"
Jenny struggled to hold back a laugh. "Yes."
We burst out laughing. Maybe it was obvious. Anyway, she didn't go back for that disgusting slime in the end.
I'll tell you, this summer got off to a pretty rough start, but we're having so much fun now. That's what I told my mom too, as soon as I managed to call her from a service phone. She seems relieved knowing I'm happy despite everything. That's what matters.

XOXOXO

Taffy.

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁸⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵍʳᵃᵖʰⁱᶜ ᵛⁱᵒˡᵉⁿᶜᵉ, ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ᶜᵃⁿⁿⁱᵇᵃˡⁱˢᵐ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ.

09/13/1980

Dear Diary...

On Wednesday, I was about to kiss Trevor for the first time... I could hardly believe that, despite everything, I'd managed to find a guy who was so caring and sweet, someone who looked at me with those eyes... He moved closer to me... slowly... And I couldn't help noticing how good he smelled, as usual...
I bit him.
I tore a piece out of his shoulder...
And I didn't spit it out, I ate it! I ate a piece of his shoulder. But it wasn't enough, I attacked him... He managed to stop me, though. Then he disappeared. I couldn't blame him, I mean, the girl you like eats a piece of your shoulder, obviously you stop talking to her.
It wasn't even that good because I could taste the radiation...
An uncontaminated body tastes much better...
I found out I'm not the only one that seeks human meat. Apparently, Jenny's radiation level is at 95%, she beat me... she's made of more radiation than flesh.
Jenny and I woke up one morning and just stared at each other, pointing at each other's hair. Turns out we'd both been trying to hide our pastel-colored hair from the other until we couldn't anymore. I couldn't stop staring at this huge, curly streak of light blue hair that had appeared overnight right at the front of her hairline. It looks amazing with her skin tone, though. And me... I've got tons of tiny lilac and pink streaks scattered through my blonde hair. Kind of like gray hair, after a while you just can't fight it anymore... And they also look fancy honestly.
We also found out that, apparently, the banana men... are just men underneath the peel...
Today...
Wait, I want to tell you this properly.
I walked into Trevor's room, and as soon as he saw me, he turned his back to me, pretending to rearrange something...
"Are you planning on ignoring me forever?" I stayed in the doorway.
He kept rearranging things in the nightstand drawer. "You ate a piece of my shoulder, Taffy."
"It was only a little piece."
He finally bothered to look at me. "I don't think that's the important part."
"It's already grown back anyway." I waved a hand at him.
We were interrupted by screaming in the hallway, although maybe as far as he was concerned, the conversation was already over.
We both heard glass breaking, followed by the heavier footsteps of the banana men.
Jenny was holding a vase at the end of the hallway, near the elevator. The guards had their hands hovering over their holsters. I'd never noticed them before. Had they always had those?
"I'm hungry!" she yelled. Right then, my stomach growled too. She paced nervously over the broken pieces of plates and other vases she'd already thrown. Another guest joined the cause. He didn't have much hair, but plenty of courage.
He raised a hand between Jenny and the armed man as soon as the gun was pointed at her.
I thought I felt Trevor's hand against my back, but it disappeared as soon as I moved closer to my friend.
"Come on, she's just a young girl. We're all starving, you've kept us locked up here for over a month..." the man muttered.
"Jennyfer Williams. Put down the weapon."
Jenny snapped. "Weapon?! It's a vase!"
"Put down the weapon!"
Jenny only gave a little nod, then the vase went flying at the banana man.
I'd never heard a gunshot in real life before. My whole body froze, and I just hoped that banana man had the same aim as a Stormtrooper shooting at the main characters.
Kind of... But that brave bald man dropped to the floor with a bullet in his forehead.
They grabbed Jenny by the arms, but not for long, because they melted into pastel slime between their fingers. She looked completely aware of what she was doing, like she'd done it on purpose to break free. Her limbs grew back within seconds...
I wanted to jump in and do something too, because there was no way I could leave her on her own, but one of the banana men grabbed me by the hair and slammed me to the floor while two others tried to shoot Jenny. They didn't miss, but she didn't stop. The smell of blood grew stronger as Jenny smashed one of the men's helmets. She was straddling him, her hands completely covered in blood. It splattered everywhere, and none of it was hers.
The other banana man only stood there for a few seconds, watching his partner scream as Jenny pulled his intestines out of his stomach. They looked delicious...
"We have enough samples. We don't need you anymore." He pointed the gun at me. And I mean, I was immobilized, so why me? What the fuck?
The gun went off while my eyes were closed, my hands gripping my hair where the other asshole was still holding it.
When I opened my eyes, Trevor was standing in front of me. I saw the exit wound in his shoulder as he started running toward the banana man. More gunshots, one after another, but Trevor kept moving forward. Until the last one. In the head. My heart fell to the floor with him. Jenny looked up, her mouth completely covered in blood, still busy chewing. She threw herself at the man holding my hair. 
That left me free to deal with mine. That asshole shot me in the shoulder, and fuck, getting shot hurts. My eyes fell back on Trevor, lying on the floor, his eyes still open but lifeless.
Then he shot me again and again. I don't have any marks anymore, though.
He does.
I shoved him hard enough to send him crashing into the wall, then ripped the helmet off his head. I wanted to see the asshole who had killed the guy who could've become MY boyfriend. I grabbed him by the hair and started smashing his head against the floor again and again and again.
Seeing his bloodshot eyes wasn't enough. Not even the blood on the floor was enough. I needed to destroy him. I heard his skull crack, just like an egg breaking.
"Aim for the head, asshole."
Trevor was right, I was really hungry.
When I looked up again, while trying to get a piece of skin out from between my teeth, I saw Jenny stick a finger into one of the other men's eye sockets. She ate his eye like it was a grape. The annoying part is the dried blood on your skin, your hands and your face. I don't like eating without silverware.
But damn... we hadn't eaten this well in forever...
I think human eyes have become our favorite food. They have such a weird texture...
My favorite banana man had stayed off to the side, one hand on his holster, watching from a distance. I know because I saw him standing completely still in the hallway.
Loser.
I grabbed the dead man's gun. I didn't even know if it was still loaded, or how to use it. But it was enough to make my favorite banana man cooperate. "I have a family..." he muttered.
Jenny kept her gun tucked into her pants, which stressed me out. I was scared it would go off inside her underwear. I was already terrified I'd accidentally shoot myself in the foot. But maybe it was exactly the fact that I had no idea how to use a gun that convinced the banana man to cooperate. Or maybe, deep down, he'd gotten a little attached to us. Definitely the second one.
Turns out the floors below ours were much less heavily guarded. There was a strong smell of something rotten throughout the whole place, though. Pieces of arms and legs were scattered along the hallways. The stairs, on the other hand, the ones me and Tre... The ones I'd found when I went up to the fourth floor for the first time, were completely unguarded.
There were way fewer people left than I thought, anyway. I think I saw someone floating facedown in one of the restricted pools where I used to sit with... Where I used to sit at night.
We stole the nicest car parked outside the Resort. Its previous owner must've had a lot of money. A completely white convertible with leather seats. We deserved it. I kept turning around to look at the back seat because I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd forgotten something at the Resort. But all my clothes were in my bag, along with the Cosmopolitan magazines, the nail polish, and the bag of ice with the dead banana men's eyes in it.
My hands have this weird tremble, even now while I'm writing to you, Diary. Jenny and I turned the music all the way up. Call Me by Blondie is playing. And yet, even with the music this loud, I still feel like I can hear the gunshots from a few hours ago.
Weird.
I'm sure a good night's sleep will make me feel better.
Now we're looking for an abandoned motel or something like that. Tomorrow we're going shopping. We deserve that too.
We're doing fabulous, and we're ready to take back the summer we wasted in there.
XOXOX
Taffy

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉʳʸ. 

09/06/1980

Dear Diary,

Yes, Trevor, you have to write that I'm dictating this to you too. Did you write that too? Oh, come on, stop it. (She's laughing now.)

Dear Diary,
I'm not the one writing. Trevor is writing while I dictate. I have a lot to tell you, as usual. Let's start with Monday, when my nonstop screaming sessions officially began.

I was still waiting for Jenny to come back, I'd started tapping my nails against the window, waiting to see her come out of that damn underground floor. So I got up and planted myself right in front of my favorite banana man. (Favorite banana man?)

I kept asking him when Jenny was coming back and he goes, "Who?" And that's when I started screaming nonstop. (I can confirm, she sounded like a siren.) No words, just noises. Some other banana men came over, but I wasn't even listening to what they were trying to tell me, I just kept screaming, until Trevor came out into the hallway too and tried to make me stop. (Obviously, I failed.)

They took me away, because there's no way someone isn't going to give me what I want, if Jenny wasn't coming back to the fourth floor, then I was going to her. It wasn't a great plan. Trevor wasn't happy. (I should've stopped her sooner.)

Some asshole on the underground floor, while I was still screaming, because no, I didn't stop for the entire trip down there, actually had the nerve to tell me, "Let's see if you're still such a smartass after this." They threw me into the water, they held my head down so I couldn't come back up. So obviously I started screaming underwater, which wasn't exactly a great move on the banana men's part... I don't know how long I was underwater, but when I woke up I was lying by the pool. Some idiots were taking pictures of me. Sure, take pictures of an unconscious girl, idiots...

When they grabbed me and dragged me into another room, I caught a glimpse of Jenny, as soon as I started screaming for the millionth time, she turned around and started screaming too, without taking her eyes off me. Girl code. You can tell we love each other.

Anyway, it turned out to be a fucking terrible idea, because the second pool, at first glance, looked like the water was boiling, then some bones floated up to the surface...
It was full of piranhas.
And I mean, fine, whatever, but they can't ruin my face.
They threw us in together. Again and again. (I hate writing this.)
Jenny and I were down there for about three straight days of experiments, my uniform is decorated like Trevor's now. We match...

My regeneration only takes a few hours... And you can tell I'm not the one writing this... because right now I'm missing a few pieces. But like I said, they grow back, so if the banana men were trying to punish me, it didn't work, I bet if I ripped one of their arms off, theirs wouldn't grow back. So who's the one being punished now?

I'd even eat one of their arms out of spite, maybe then they'd stop acting so tough. (???)

When they brought Jenny and me back upstairs, we kept up the screaming sessions. Trevor joined the cause. And a few days later, so did the others who were still on our floor.

Yesterday someone threw some plates against a wall, but I think they were aiming for the banana men. I don't know if it was out of desperation or hunger. (She's hungry and she won't admit it. She's not eating anything.)

No, okay, I'm not hungry, I'm fine. I've just lost my appetite a little, that's all. It's not that weird... (I'd like to bring her favorite food, but she won't tell me what it is. I wouldn't even know how to get it, actually...)

What did you write? (You'll read it when I give your diary back.) Anyway, as you can see, Trevor worries way too much. He's lucky he's cute. (Oh yeah? What else?)

I lost my train of thought... See, Trevor? You're distracting me. I need to update my diary.

(I'll find a way to get her out of here. She's stubborn, but she can't do everything on her own.)

That's all for today, since I can't remember what else I wanted to say.

XOXOXO

Taffy (and Trevor)

ᶜᴼᴺᵀᴱᴺᵀ ᵂᴬᴿᴺᴵᴺᴳ — ᴿᴱᶜᴼᴹᴹᴱᴺᴰᴱᴰ ¹⁶⁺ ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈⁱᵃʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ʰᵘᵐᵒʳ, ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ, ᵇᵒᵈʸ ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈⁱˢᵗᵘʳᵇⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. 

ᵀʰⁱˢ ᴱⁿᵗʳʸ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵈᵉᵖⁱᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁱᶜⁱᵈᵉ.

08/30/1980

Dear Diary,

Tuesday evening Trevor came back from the underground floor with his arm wrapped in bandages. Well... not exactly. The arm wasn't there at all. The bandages, stained with blood, only covered him from the elbow up. The worst part is that he smiled the moment he saw me. I was the one who hugged him first.
Now I understand why he'd gotten so angry when I told him about the pool. I think they hurt me.
I hadn't noticed it last Sunday, but my yellow work shirt had a blue stamp on it that read: "Survived Test No. 1." Trevor's shirt is covered in stamps...
He told me it wasn't the first time he'd come back from those tests missing a limb. He always made sure he returned to Sector B only after it had grown back. He didn't want to scare us... me...
That day they forced him to come back upstairs with the stump as punishment for us standing up to them the week before.
I'm afraid I don't remember anything about the pool because I passed out from the pain... But he refused to tell me how he lost his arm...
Anyway, it had grown back by the next day. The banana men think it's caused by the radiation inside our bodies.
I wonder if there's any way they can actually kill us...
The banana men definitely can die. They're not contaminated, otherwise they wouldn't need to wear those banana peels.

The wife of the man who exploded during dinner threw herself out the window when she saw Trevor without an arm. Another girl from our floor followed her.
They chose the same fate my curling iron had, over whatever's waiting for us.
Maybe I don't blame them.
But it would annoy me not to even try fighting a bunch of people dressed up like bananas.
Yes, I know they aren't actually dressed as bananas, but let me make fun of them at least.
Especially because I'm fine, unlike the two people who jumped, who had already started leaking colorful liquid from their noses.
YES, okay, maybe I threw up something rainbow-colored when Trevor came back to our floor, but I think throwing up is perfectly reasonable in a situation like that.
Besides, throwing up colors isn't that bad. I mean... at least it looks pretty inside the toilet.
Another lilac streak has appeared underneath my hair. I'm hiding them for as long as I can.
So don't tell anyone, Diary.
Jenny seemed like the only one who was still healthy. She could never hide vomit or colorful goo dripping out of her nose from me. I know her too well, I can tell immediately when she's lying.
But she was really stressed. She'd started tapping her foot whenever we were sitting down, and even in bed she couldn't stay still.
She asked if she could have the food portions from the people who took the express route out the window.
When they told her no, she completely lost it, and they took her away this Thursday...
She still hasn't come back.
Trevor says she's too stubborn to let the banana men get the better of her.
Still, I've spent days staring out the window hoping to see them escorting her back.
She can't leave me, I'd never leave her.
It's girl code.
Besides, she promised she'd paint my toenails a new color.
I've completely lost my appetite these past few days, and the food they give us is practically begging not to be eaten. Trevor insisted I try the fish, but the smell alone almost made me throw up.
My favorite banana man, who I hate now, I've noticed actually smells really nice.
Strangely... even better than Trevor does.
This morning I stood next to him in silence for a while, but eventually he told me to go away and asked what I was doing.
I had no idea what to tell him.

Anyway, the slime from Jenny's container is gone, the box is empty...
I swear, if that thing really is alive, and I was right all along, I'm going to give Jenny the lecture of her life.

I've been feeling a little strange. I'm not someone who worries this much.
Maybe it's because I've been spending so much time with Trevor. His old-man anxiety is rubbing off on me.

So... Everything's fine.

XOXOXO

Taffy

A note from the author
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts or emotional distress, please reach out to someone you trust, a mental health professional, or a crisis support service in your area. You are not alone, and support is available.