I couldn’t bring myself to write anything last night. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and my body felt like it might collapse after everything that happened. But now, with the sunlight streaming through the cabin window, I feel like I can finally breathe. Still, the memory of yesterday keeps replaying in my mind, sharp and vivid.

It started early in the morning. Saul had gone downstairs to get supplies, and I was still half-asleep when I heard the door creak open. At first, I thought it was him. But then I saw him—the PCTF agent, standing in the doorway. My heart nearly stopped. He didn’t say anything; he just stood there, scanning the room like a predator sizing up his prey.

I panicked and bolted for the bathroom, locking the door behind me. My hands were trembling so badly I could barely keep the lock in place. Did someone hear me vomiting the night before? Is that why they sent him? I stood there, holding my breath, praying he wouldn’t force his way in.
Then I heard it—Saul’s voice. He was back. There was the sound of a struggle, of furniture crashing and heavy footsteps. Saul was fighting him. I wanted to help, but my legs felt like they were made of stone. I don’t know how long it lasted—seconds, minutes? It felt like an eternity.
And then I saw it: the agent’s gun lying on the floor. I don’t even remember picking it up. My hands moved on their own, raising the weapon. Before I could stop myself, I pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot rang in my ears, deafening and final. The agent went down, and Saul grabbed me, pulling me out of the room. We didn’t stay to check if he was alive or dead. We just ran.
​
Now, sitting here in this quiet cabin, I keep wondering: Did I kill him? Was he just following orders, or was he as cold as the system he worked for? I’ll never know. But some part of me hopes—prays—that he’s alive. I’ve never hurt anyone before. And now, I’ve crossed a line I can’t uncross.

The trek to Grandpa’s cabin felt like it would never end. We left everything behind when the car got stuck, and with every step, my body screamed in protest. I remember looking down at a small town nestled in the valley below the mountain, thinking maybe we could go there for supplies. But not yet. Not now.

​When we finally reached the cabin, it was like stepping back in time. The greenhouse, the shed, even Grandpa’s broken truck—everything was just as I remembered, though a little older, a little more worn. This place holds so many memories. Summers spent climbing trees, winters by the fire… and now, it’s where I’ll bring my baby into the world.

For the first time in days, I felt a flicker of relief. Saul checked the area, making sure it was safe. He’s been my rock through all of this, and I don’t know how I’d have made it this far without him.
Now, as I sit here in this quiet cabin, my mind drifts to the days ahead. We’re about to become a family. And though the road is uncertain, for now, I’m just thankful to be here, to have this moment of peace—even if I know it won’t last

- Samantha

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