Losing the will to live.
Missed Part 5? Read it here.
Day 15 – Attacked
I spent the night in the barn and got a good rest. Had a decent breakfast and headed outside to check things out. Everything was going well until I heard the sound of something bounding towards me.
That damn bear was the size of a Ranger pickup. I tried to take a few shots at it as it was coming towards me, but only one hit, and it glanced off its shoulder. Before I could pull back the bolt a second time, it was on top of me. The only thing that saved my ass was the fact that I was able to jam the stock of the rifle in its mouth and stab it in the belly a few times. It reeled back in pain, but it clawed at me before I could get out from under it. The only thing that scared it off was me pulling the trigger as it shifted the rifle out of its mouth. I must’ve put a round through its cheek or something, because I’m covered in more blood than I know I have in me.
Still, I passed out in the snow. When I woke up, it was gone. My gun is trashed though… No way I can safely fire it again. I didn’t notice until I started to sit up that my arm was completely thrashed, and I was bleeding pretty heavily from my head and chest. I shuffled into the barn and packed the wounds with gauze and doused them with hydrogen peroxide. Took a few vicodin for good measure.
I couldn’t stay at the barn anymore. I wasn’t about to risk having that bear come back. So I made myself a cup of coffee, popped a couple more pain pills, and headed off in the direction of where I figured the house would be on this property.
I blacked out a few times before I finally found shelter. I’ve never been here before in my life, but I never felt so at home in a stranger’s house. I searched the house for a fireplace, and I was in luck. Not only was there a fireplace, but the owner left behind a decent amount of firewood as well. Enough to get a fire going and warm up. I checked my bandages and took another painkiller, then I started on dinner and mending my clothes.
I swear, Canada hates me… And I hate it more.
Day 17 – Tired
What’s the point anymore? All I’m doing is scraping by, and any time I seem to be getting somewhere, everything goes to hell. I might as well use this damn journal for burning material.
Day 19 – Photographs
I’ve been rummaging through this house for the last few days, trying to find things to get me by while I’m nursing my wounds. The family here has a ton of little knick-knacks and photos. They look like they’re a really happy family. I wonder where they are? I can’t seem to figure out where they went, because most of their stuff is still here.
The owners were kind enough to leave their hunting rifle under the bed at least. It has 5 bullets in the clip and one in the chamber.
I can’t keep this up forever…
Day 20 – Last Meal
I tossed about the kitchen a bit and after chipping away at some of the ice in the freezer (which is ironically warmer than outside), I found a nice bottle of top-shelf vodka and a huge salmon.
Gonna break up some furniture for firewood, make a nice fire, and cook up a big meal. Might as well go out drunk and full.
Gotta get in one more cup of coffee at least. I’ll have to look for a big mug in the cupboards.
Olivia isn’t done yet. You can read the next part of her story here.
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