One thing about William, was that he was always happy, no matter what.

     His goofy smile could make the worst day better, and his silly mannerisms could make the man with the coldest heart chuckle. He cared about people helped everyone, no matter who they were or what they were done. He was a gentle spirit, one not even the most ugly of people could hate. And he was gone.

    We buried him beside dad, the two graves side by side, father and son. It hurt to think about the fact that in a manner of a few short months, 2 out of 5 of my family members had passed. I couldn't help but blame myself, at least for William's death. I told myself over and over again, I should have done more, should have just shot the man when I had the chance. I told myself I never should have let the kids go outside that day to play.
    Of course, mom shut down even more. It was just the 3 of us- her, Bailey, and me. We were the only Lou's left. And I couldn't help mom because I blamed her too. And I couldn't let Bailey help me because I knew it was my fault he was dead and I knew it was my fault that she had to take care of mom and I knew everything bad that had happened since the bombs was my fault. People tried to tell me otherwise, but their words were empty. They themselves didn't even believe the words they were saying.
    I looked down at the grave. I wasn't sure what I'd do with not only my dad being gone, but my little brother. My little brother gave me more happiness than anybody else in the world had. He and his antics may have drove me crazy sometimes but I loved him for than anything. He was a bright light in a grey world. And he didn't deserve to die.
    I rubbed my hands over the fur of the kangaroo stuffy, Roo. The fur was still soft, though a little worn out from constant playtime. After that night that I gave it to him, he never let it leave his side. He slept with it, ate with it, and played with it. I wondered if that wasn't so much because he liked the toy, more so that I gave it to him. I knew I meant a lot to him too, and that made it almost worse. 
   I kneeled down, my boots crunching the snow. I placed the stuffy on the grave, tears welling up in my eyes. I had already cried so much in the past 5 days, but I couldn't help but cry more. My baby brother was gone, I had the right to cry.

    I'd been left in pretty rough shape after the attack. I guess after I blacked out, Oliver killed the 2 Scavengers who had been attacking me, Carl managed to kill the one that attacked him, and Natalie had been stabbed in the side and knocked out cold. It took all of Bailey, mom, and Amy to take care od everybody's wounds. Besides the children and mom, everyone had some kind of wound. Amy told me I had it the worst, though. 
    I had suffered a major concussion. My face was swollen, my right eye a black eye, swollen shut. The cut on my cheek from the Scavenger's knife had needed 6 stitches. My ribs were black and blue, and mom said I had a few broken ones too. I had sustained other minor injuries too, small cuts and bruises. My legs were black and blue. I could barely walk. Not that I had anywhere  that I wanted to go.
    I laid in the study, the only perfectly quiet place in the house. I stared at the ceiling, observing the scalloped pattern that covered it. My eyes followed the lines for a few minutes, until the concentration hurt my head too much and I had to close my eyes again. The curtains were drawn in the windows and the doors were shut. Light and noise killed my head and made me want to vomit. Every time I moved I could feel puke rise in my throat. Whenever I tried to walk, my vision would go blurry and I felt dizzy. I hated it. I felt too vulnerable. And after the attack, I was terrified that more Scavengers would come.
    It had been a week since the attack. I had been confined to the study, where I was away from the noise of everyone else. Oliver and Bailey would come in and visit me. Oliver stayed the majority of the time, but Bailey came in to continue my treatment. Give me pain medication, clean the cut on my face, re-bandage my ribs. She took care of me in the way my mother should have been, but according to Oliver, she shut down again.
    "I don't know how she can do this to us," I said hopelessly, tears in my eyes. He held my hand and reassuringly rubbed his thumb across the back of my palm. He sat beside me in one of the living chairs from the study, his face full of concern with a hint of pity. But there was also a sense of understanding with him, too.
    "She's grieving, Nid," He said softly, using my nickname. I looked at him in disbelief.
    "You don't think I am?" I scoffed. Anger tickled my chest with warmth. "You don't think I've been grieving ever since dad died? I've been dying inside. But I have led this family and provided. I took over. Her? She's just selfish. She just shut down. That's not fair to me, it's not fair to Bailey. She's just selfish."
    Oliver looked at me, not knowing what to say. I blinked and a tear rolled down my cheek as I turned my head back to the ceiling and shut my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whimpered. Another tear managed to escape through the cracks of my eyes and I swallowed hard. "I don't know how much longer I can live like this."
    He squeezed my hand. "Don't even say that. You are the strongest person I know. You've been through more at 15 years old than most people would go through their whole lives. Your sister and your mother need you. You need to stay strong. If not for them, for me," He pleaded. A pang hit my heart. I opened my eyes and looked at him. His eyes were welled up with tears and his face looked broken.
     There was a lot of people counting on a broken girl.

    After another week, I felt almost 100%. I still had a lingering headache, but nothing too bad. The dizziness and nausea were gone, and I was no longer sensitive to light or noise. I was finally able to go back into the rest of the house and be with the rest of the family.
    I brushed out and rebraided my hair in mom's bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror as I did. The cut on my cheek was bigger than I'd realized. The black eye was mostly gone besides some slight bruising. Any bruising around my neck from being choked had disappeared. My ribs were still incredibly sore and bruised, but not as bad. Amy said the pain and bruising would last a while. My lip had a cut on it from being busted while fighting, and I had other little scratches all over my face from the fights. Overall, I was a pretty rough looking unit.
    I changed into light jeans and a long sleeved maroon shirt, put on wool socks, and padded my way downstairs. It was early morning, before everybody else was awake. I made my way into the kitchen and made myself some instant coffee, heating the water with a water kettle we kept plugged into the generator. I had to drink it with only powder cream and sugar packets. All of our dairy products had long since gone bad.
    I ate some rabbit jerky, which Carl had managed to make by making his own meat dryer. It was well seasoned but slightly tough. Not the worst thing I'd ever eaten but not the best either. I leaned on the kitchen counter and ate my breakfast, glancing out the window to the right that faced the front of the house. The sun was rising over the tree line, reflecting off of the ice crusted snow. I decided I wanted to go hunting.
    I chugged my cup of coffee and huffed down my jerky and got ready. I grabbed my semiautomatic rifle and filled the mag, and threw on my combat boots and winter gear. I pulled my hat down over my head and my fingerless gloves over my hands, leaving a note that said "HUNTING - ENID" on the kitchen counter. I whistled to Bear who was laying beside the kitchen table, and we walked to the door.
    I silently left the house, Bear trailing behind me, and I made sure the door made no noise when I shut it. I took a deep breath as I stepped onto the front deck, the air fresh and clean and pure. The outside felt cool and clear, and it refreshed my mind. Inside, my mind was cramped and I was always thinking and everything felt overwhelming. Outside, I could think. I could breathe. I could escape everything that the people in the house worried about and the things I worried about.
    I took off into the woods to the left of the house, following one of the hunting trails Oliver and I always took. It was easy to follow and it lead to a large pond we'd be able to fish in come springtime. The space around the pond was clear too, the surrounding area all field. It was one of my favorite places to go before the bombs.
    Bear trotted beside me, his nose to the ground. I walked with light footsteps, not wanting to chase away any potential game. I could hear birds overhead, but none of them were big enough to shoot. Small birds like chickadees, blue jays, and cardinals. Their colorful feathers were a deep contrast against the pure white snow and their songs were peaceful in the quiet air.
    I made it to the field and I crouched in some of the bushes. Bear laid down beside me, gnawing on a stick he'd managed to find. My breaths floated up into the air in white puffs, dissipating in just a few seconds. The cool air tickled my cheeks and nose, but it felt nice.
   I looked out to the field and pond. The pond was frozen, covered in ice, the ice covered in snow. Everything was quiet and peaceful, something that was a rarity in those days. Sometimes things were quiet, but rarely they were peaceful. There was always some sort of uneasy edge to the atmosphere, you always felt like you had to stay on your toes. Out in the field, I didn't feel that way.
    I crouched down further as a deer wandered into the field from the woods. It was a tall buck, 12 pointer. Its chest was big and its fur was thick. It was one of the nicest looking animals I had ever seen in my life. It walked to an empty spot in the field and started to dig at the snow with its hoof, trying to get at the grass underneath. I readied my gun and aimed, looking through the scope. I focused it in on its head. I wanted to get it in one shot, a clean kill. An animal as beautiful as that shouldn't have to suffer.
   It ducked its head down to nose through the snow, and I pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the woods and the gun kicked back into my shoulder. Birds flew from their spots in the trees and Bear jumped beside me. But as I looked, the deer fell over into the snow. I'd shot it.
    I turned the safety on the gun and slung it over my shoulder, and Bear and I walked over to the deer. I'd shot it through the side of the head, blood coming out of its nose, mouth, and bullet wound, tainting the snow a bright red. It was a color I hadn't seen since the last attack on the farm. 
    Tears formed in my eyes and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I dropped to my knees, the tears falling slowly at first, and then quickly, a steady stream. I cried at the body of the deer as I thought about my brother, thought about my father, thought about how I didn't think I could take care of my family. I thought about William's happy soul, my dad's wise words and loving smile, and how my mom was a speechless, emotionless zombie and how my sister cared too much and how she still loved our mom after what she'd done to us, leaving us to fend for ourselves. I cried about all the things I'd cried about separately before and cried about them all at once.
    Bear came over and licked my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his fur, my body shaking, racked in sobs. I felt like I was breaking apart right there in the snow, and that I would break and be left there in the cold next to the deer. I felt like there was no end to the pain that the world was giving me.
    I didn't understand how it was fair. How I'd done everything I could to keep everybody safe and keep everyone happy and I was the one who was broken and beaten. How I worked harder than anyone to make sure everyone else's needs were filled yet mine were in shambles. And I thought about how nobody made any moves to help me, to fix me. 
   I jumped at the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head and found Oliver there, messy blonde hair, gentle blue eyes, and rosy red cheeks. He lifted his hand to my face and put a hand on my cheek, and I threw my arms around him. He held me and I cried. I cried, and I cried, and I cried. It wasn't a cute cry. Snot was bubbling from my nose and drool was coming out of my nose and my eyes and cheeks were puffy and I was making choking noises because I couldn't get enough air in between sobs. I had cried before that moment but it was that moment that I let everything out.
    "I can't do it Ollie, I can't do it," I croaked out. He rubbed my back and kissed the side of my face comfortingly. He held me tightly, his arms strong so I could be weak. "I can't do any of this anymore."
    "You'll make it through, Nid, you'll make it through. I'll make sure  that you'll make it through," He replied softly. He kissed the side of my cheek again, and I felt that his face was wet. I looked up and noticed he was crying too. He pushed the hair out of my face and wiped away more of my tears. "That's what you and I do, we're strong so the other doesn't have to be."
    He held me until I couldn't cry anymore, until I was out of tears and I was just left there, shaking. He helped me stand, and together, we each grabbed 2 of the deer's legs and began dragging it back to the house. Bear walked in front of us, his tail swaying behind him. The further we walked the more I got a hold on myself, the better I was able to breathe and the better I was able to think.
    Oliver talked about how his dad had eased up a bit since the attack. He said that everybody was nicer to each other and everything was more delicate. I guess everyone realized that any one of us could be lost at any moment so we needed to treat each other better. Because life was precious and could be swept away at any moment, and nobody wanted the guilt of thinking that a person had died hating them.
     We finally made it back to the house, and he ran inside to grab his dad. We dragged the deer to the back of the barn, and made quick work of gutting, skinning, and butchering the deer. Robert salted some of the deer meat and wrapped it in brown paper, and put it in our dirt cellar below the house, where we stored all of our meat. It took us into early afternoon to finish doing everything with the deer, and we took some fresh slabs  of meat inside to be cooked for dinner.
    We seasoned the steaks and roasted them over the fireplace in the living room. Carl had managed to jerry-rig a grid over the fire. We opened up some canned potatoes and heated those over the fire, and heated up some canned corn as well. I helped to cook and plate the food, and as we were finishing up in the kitchen, Carl came from downstairs carrying a bottle of whiskey. He held it up and smiled.
    "I figured since we were having a nice meal, we should have some nice drinks to go with it," He said. The adults all kind of laughed and smiled, and he opened the bottle. He grabbed four glasses, one for each adult, excluding mom. He began pouring and handing off to each adult. He must have noticed me staring at the adults drinking it. "Have you ever had liquor before?" He questioned. I guessed that it didn't matter if I lied.
    "Yeah," I answered honestly. A few times with friends. Nothing crazy. It wasn't like I was some kind of big partier before the bombs, I just hung out and we drank. I didn't see why I needed to lie anymore.
    The adults looked surprised by my answer, and Oliver chuckled to himself as he sat at the kitchen island. "Well," Carl said, grabbing another glass from the cupboard, "If you've already drank, you may as well have some of this. This good whiskey, meant to be drank by good people."
    He handed me my glass and I lifted it up to my nose. The smell was warm. I took a sip, the liquid running down my throat smooth. I grinned at Carl and tilted my glass towards him. "To the man with the good whiskey," I said. He grinned back at me and tilted his glass in my direction.
    "To the girl who gave us dinner," He countered. I smiled and shrugged.
    "Hey, I can drink to that," I joshed, and took a sip.
    We called the kids in and we passed out all the plates. We decided to eat in the living room so we could all eat together. Even with a large couch, a loveseat, and a living chair, the kids still had to sit on the floor. Not that they minded. Tyler, Ethan, Emily, and Bailey all really got along well. But Bailey sat on the floor in front of me, where I sat on the loveseat next to Oliver. Her back was between our legs, her legs crossed, food in her lap.
    They ended up pouring Oliver a glass of the whiskey as well. I watched as he took a sip of it, and noticed how much he and I looked alike. Many people had mistaken us for siblings at school, which was understandable. Both of us with our blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin. We had the same cheekbones too, and similar noses. But we weren't related, not even distantly.
    It felt good to have a nice meal. We'd been eating canned food for so long that the mix up was nice. Even before the bombs, deer steak was some of my favorite meat. Every deer season when my family would fill our tags, we'd all be excited for that first supper when we'd have the fresh steaks. Dad cooked it the best. I wished that he was there that night to eat with us.
    After dinner, Bailey and I decided to clean up. We stood side by side washing the dishes,  despite the fact that the water wasn't heated because of no power and the fact that we had to get the water from the fresh water collection bin. But it got the job done, the dishes were getting cleaned. I was the one washing, and Bailey dried and put them away.
    "I wish mom would come downstairs to eat with us," Bailey said as she put one of the plates away. My muscles tensed up as I cleaned out a glass. "Especially on a night like tonight. Tonight was special."
    I rinsed off the dish and handed it to her. I gritted my teeth. "Yeah well if she wants to waste away by herself upstairs, she can. That's her own decision," I said bitterly. Bailey paused drying her dish for a second, but quickly restarted.
    "You can't talk about her like that you know," She said quietly. She put a dish away, I handed her a new one. "She's just grieving. She's just going through a hard time."
    I took a deep breath to keep myself from going off. I was sick of people making excuses for that woman. "I'm grieving too. But you don't see me shutting down," I replied sharply. Dish away, dish handed to Bailey.
    "Everybody handles grief in different ways," She said softly. I dropped the dish I was washing back into the sink and discarded the dish cloth to the edge of the sink. I wiped my nose and turned around.
    "I think we need more wood chopped," I said shortly. I whistled for Bear, threw on my outside gear, and walked out the door, slamming it shut behind me.
    It was almost dark outside, but not quite. The days had been getting longer and longer. We were getting closer and closer to spring. Spring was going to be a big time for us. I couldn't wait.
    I walked out to the wood pile, yanked the axe from the chopping block, and place a big piece of wood on it. Bailey  was laying off to the side of me, chewing on one of the antlers from the buck. I took in a deep breath and lifted the axe over my head, bringing it smashing down onto the wood. The wood split into two, and the pieces tumbled to the ground. I picked up on of them and cut it in half, and threw it into the sled.
    After quite a while of blowing off steam and chopping the wood, I heard footsteps coming around behind me. I didn't look to see who it was, I didn't really care at that point. I knew it was just somebody coming to ask me what was wrong. That was one thing I hated about being confined to the house, everybody knew your business and everyone had something to say about it.
    It was Oliver, carrying a canister of something hot. He smiled at me. I chopped another piece of wood.
    "Hey," He said in a soft tone. I nodded at him. He sat on a different chopping block, off to the side. "I brought you hot chocolate."
    "Thanks," I muttered. He opened the canister and poured some of the steaming liquid into the lid. He passed it off to me and I sat the axe down beside the chopping block, taking the lid. He pulled a separate cup from his jacket pocket and poured some of the hot chocolate into that while I sat on the chopping block that I had been using.
    "I heard you and Bailey fighting," He admitted. "You can't stay mad at your mom forever."
    I took a sip of my hot chocolate and chose not to respond. I didn't like people telling me what I could and couldn't do. I could made those decisions for myself, and at that point, I knew I could stay mad at my  mother forever. Despite what everybody believed.
    She had brought it upon herself. She was a coward. She had two kids left, and she was doing nothing to help her children to survive. Bailey and I were being parented by the other parents in the house. We appreciated it, but we knew that that wasn't how it should have been. It was like Bailey and I were orphans and mom was a ghost of who she used to be. The mother I used to know died that night on the farm alongside my father.
    "Thank you for the hot chocolate," I said plainly. I chugged the rest of the cup and handed it to him. I stood up and picked up my axe, placing another piece of wood on the block. Oliver continued to stare at me, hurt in his delicate blue eyes. 
    "When are you going to let me in, Enid?" He asked sincerely, his voice sounding hopeless. I slammed the axe down on the piece of wood.
    "When it's safe to care about people again."

    He stood up and went inside.

    The rest of the winter I felt as cold as the rest of the world felt outside. I didn't mean to act harsh towards everyone, but I just kept thinking about how much it hurt when my father and William died, and I didn't want to feel that pain if something happened to anybody else in the house. I loved them all like family and it pained me to think about the fact that something could happen to any of them at any point.
    Springtime came quickly. I normally would have been excited. Springtime meant new. I was relieved when I saw green buds popping up on all of the trees and plants. I was scared that the ash from the bombs had smothered everything. But as time went on, the snow melted and green grass grew. Our apple trees began turning vibrant green. Everything had a new breath of life to it. It was refreshing, it gave everybody hope.
    We went ahead with our plans for the greenhouse. With everybody working together, we managed to gather all the necessary supplies from the city and put the green house together in record time. We got soil from the gardening supply stores as well as packets of seeds, and we began planting. It didn't take long for things to start sprouting. It seemed like everything, including the plants, was eager to start new.
    Carl put together an aquaponic system in the greenhouse, which amazed me. He used fish from the pond in the meadow. The whole time he worked on his projects, he made sure to teach all of the kids about what he was doing. He taught us about the way the dirty fish water fertilized the plants. He taught us about how the sunlight feeds the plants. He taught us about  building and tricks of the trade when it came to building, and showed us his tricks when it came to building new gadgets.
    He managed to put together solar panels we took from the city, and he hooked them up to the roof of the house with the help of Robert. We finally had power in the house. I remember the day that the power kicked in, and we had running water for the first time in months. Everybody screamed and cheered, and that night, everybody took a shower.
    I stood there naked, staring at myself in the mirror above the sink. I had gained weight since the bombs had first went off, due to eating real food from hunting and gathering plants with Oliver. My arms had muscle definition and my legs were strong. My eyes no longer looked sunken in, I no longer looked weak. I looked no longer like a child, but a strong woman. 
    After I got out of the shower, I looked at myself again. My hair was no longer greasy, and had returned to its natural light blonde shade. My skin no longer had a film of dirt and grime on it. You could actually see the freckles that were sprinkled across my nose and you could see the actual tan I had been building up from working in the sun all the time. 
   We started homeschooling. It was Natalie's idea. She had been a teacher before the bombs, so she would gather us in the study of the farmhouse and teach us all. She was a good teacher. She taught us about basic skills in math and English, and as we got more advanced, she taught us about different fields of science and history. We learned about things people our age never would have learned about before the bombs.
    It was a happy  time, that spring and summer. Mom started coming out of her room and sitting on the deck. By the end of spring, beginning of summer, we had fresh fruits and vegetables to eat. Bailey had taken over the garden that lined the front of our house, and it was filled with flowers of many colors that were as bright as life seemed at that time. We had managed to take the worst of times and come back and change it into the best of times. It still hurt to think about my lost family, but I knew that they would have been happy to see all that we had accomplished.

    We had moved past the pain.