Ana-Lucia (tequilaandtonic) wrote in differentpaths,

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Amid the little bits and pieces of belongings we salvaged from the ocean, I found this journal. This is the first time I've managed to sit down and write in it.

Things have been hell. And it seems to get worse as time goes on. I don't even remember how many days we've been out here, wandering and barely surviving. Nathan is dead. It's my fault. I know that everyone else thinks so, too. They'll avoid my eyes sometimes. But they never say anything. I think they might be afraid to. Goodwin was one of Them. And I didn't see it. I couldn't save the kids and I can barely lead the people that are left. But I have to, because no one else is going to do what they need to do to survive.

Not too long ago, while Bernard was messing with the radio, he heard a voice. It was a man, saying he was a survivor of flight 815. I shut it off immediately. I didn't tell them, but I'm scared. I don't want Them to find us again. I don't want to be hunted. I don't want Libby or Bernard or Cindy or even Eko to be killed in the middle of the night. But what if there are other survivors?

I went into the woods to cry after hearing the radio transmission. It was the stress finally getting to me. I don't know if I can handle all of this. Eko came out of the woods while I was crying. He moves like a freaking panther or something. I didn't even heard him sneak up on me. He comforted me out there. I owe him. He spoke to me (the first time since he was first attacked), told me it'd be ok. I want to believe that it will be. But after all that's happened? I can't see myself ever not being afraid of what's lurking out there. Those people in the woods aren't human.

For now? I guess we have to decide what we're going to do next. Staying in the hatch/bunk/whatever seems the best. I'll have a talk with everyone later.
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