[scrawled hastily on dirtied notebook paper]

December?, 2003

Encountered another survivor out on the road. I saved him from a swarm of walkers and let him on the RV. He has a ton of supplies, and seems pretty easily swayed. I'm hoping that bringing him with me on the next Save Lots raid will deter other survivors from screwing with me. A lone survivor is an easy target. If I can convince the other looters I've found a group, they might leave me alone.

December?, 2003

The man I saved, his name is Eddie. Or at least that's what he tells me it is. As I'd guessed, he's pretty acquiescent. I had him doing chores around the store a little while ago. Now we're getting ready to head out.

He has a sense of humor and a lightheartedness to him that makes him easy to be around. I'm glad for that, because if he proves useful during the Save Lots trip I'm going to be keeping him around as long as possible.

December?, 2003

[in shaky handwriting]

The Save Lots trip couldn't have gone any worse. I got what I needed, but on the way out we ran across that crazy guy in the blue truck. He pulled his usual creepy shit, and I noticed Eddie was hiding from him. At first I thought he was just being a coward. Then his cover got blown, the man saw him, and suddenly it made sense why he'd been hiding. The guy had something against Eddie. He attacked us like a wild man.

I got slashed in the eye during the fight. Now it seems my left eye is completely blinded. Despite barely even knowing me, Eddie put his own life in danger to save mine. I must have blacked out shortly after it happened, because I don't remember the ride back.

I woke up in screaming agony – God, the pain was unbearable. Eddie helped me clean the wound (peroxide for the facial cuts, diluted peroxide for my actual eye), and even though he was insistent, he was so gentle, and kinder than I probably deserve. I can't be too angry with him, though God knows I want to be. Being angry would be better than being miserable. Better than thinking about how I'm probably going to be blind in that eye forever now.

I asked Eddie why the man attacked him. He told me he'd accidentally killed one of the man's friends. It seemed to be eating at him pretty badly. I told him my story, so now everything's laid bare between us. That's a good thing. It's easier to build trust that way. And I'm pretty sure we're both starting at a trust level of zero, so we have a long way to go.

We're smoking together (he'd had some weed in with his supplies). If I wasn't high right now I'd probably have blacked out again. All things considered, it's kind of nice. The plan to use Eddie as a bodyguard at Save Lots may have gone completely off the rails, but I'm almost finding that I just enjoy his company. Or any company. I hated being alone.

This is the worst part of surviving in this world. Every time I think I've moved past the need for companionship, I end up realizing just how god damn lonely it's been since I struck out on my own. I used to think being alone would be great – no dissenting opinions, no complaints, no other mouths to feed. But as I spent more and more time by myself, one thing really started to drive me crazy – the silence. You think getting away from all the yelling and fighting of a human group will be nice. But it's not. It's horrible.

Just hearing someone else's voice is a welcomed change at this point.

December?, 2003

Three days since last entry. It's been a long time since I've gone three days without recording my thoughts here. Now that I have someone else to talk to, it's sort of slipped my mind. And I have to say, it's really nice to be able to tell my thoughts to something other than a notebook that can never talk back (well, unless I go really crazy of course).

And holy shit, do we ever talk. I knew Eddie liked to yack from day one, but now he's got me talking almost as much as him. It's hard to believe we've only known each other for five days. I guess spending every waking moment with someone will do that to you.

My eye is healing pretty well. A scar is forming from my forehead down to my cheek where I was slashed. I'm still in pain, and of course I'm still blinded on my left side, but we have enough supplies to stay tucked in the back room for a long while, so it's not as bad as it could be.

I've come to the decision that as soon as I'm healed enough to go out, I'm going over to the barbershop and cutting my hair. I don't want to do it, but it's for the sake of survival. That man at Save Lots grabbed me by my long hair. I've told myself off and on for months that I should cut it, but that sealed it for me.

I'm going to try to get back on track with these records. I re-read the last entry and Jesus, it sounds more like a diary entry than a survival log. Actually, now that I re-read the beginning of this log, it sounds like a diary entry too. I'm sure the survivors of the future will want to know some details like that, but from now on I'm going to try to keep the interpersonal details to a minimum.

December?, 2003

It's been two days since my last entry, and [something is scribbled out] I wanted to [more scribbled out words] I keep screwing up what I want to say because EDDIE IS READING OVER MY SHOULDER and it's making me nervous. And now he's laughing because he sees me writing this down. Well read this: fuck you, Eddie.

[in vastly different handwriting] EDDIE IS SO COOL. HE IS ONE AWESOME DUDE. -LILY

[an arrow connects the above writing to a box of text in the margin that reads:] This is the last time I leave my notebook unattended with him. And it's LILLY.

December?, 2003

I'm actually leaving the store today. My eye is as healed as it's going to get and I need to cut my hair. I'm not exactly happy to do it, but I know I have to. I'm trying to get back into a more serious mindset after basically screwing around for the past week. After all, I'm venturing back out into the harsh and bitter world, and I know that letting my guard down and not taking things seriously will get me killed. It'll get both of us killed.

I think Eddie can tell I'm trying to be stoic. We've stepped back to where we were before holing up together for a week, the two of us limiting conversation and treading lightly around one another. Once I get back out there I'm going to have to return to pure survivor mode. I'll start reporting on weather conditions and walker density and all those things again. Eddie knows we have to be serious. Or at least I hope he does. I don't enjoy being closed off all the time, either. It's just something we have to do.

December?, 2003

We killed a person today. It was a man trying to get into the store. He had a map on him, and a note that talked about some supposedly-safe place called Wellington in northern Ohio. After he damaged the storefront it was only a matter of time until the walkers finished it off. So we collected what supplies we could and took off again in the RV.

Eddie wants to try for this Wellington. I don't know how I feel about it. The last time I was offered sanctuary it turned out to be a family of fucking cannibals. But this place wasn't offered to us, and I guess that makes it a little different. They're not expecting us.

I don't know if we're going to make it all the way up to practically Michigan, especially not in this old hunk of junk RV. But it gives us something to aspire toward, rather than just driving aimlessly, so it helps a little.

Right now Eddie's driving. This is my first time letting him drive the RV, though I know he drove it back from Save Lots when I was unconscious. He seems able to handle it all right.

I wonder if this Wellington safe place even still exists. Or if it ever existed in the first place. Hell, maybe it is real. Maybe it could be the base of humanity pulling itself back together. I'd like to believe that. But honestly, for whatever we are now, I sort of feel more alive than I ever did in the old world.

Back then people were digging themselves into a rut, working bland jobs they didn't care about to make ends meet until they died. Now that survivors of this mess have experienced a life much more free and independent, now that some of us have gone a bit...feral, I guess, we might come to realize we like this better than what we had before. Or that, even if we wanted to, some of us might never fully return to being civilized and obedient to things like bosses, laws, and governments.

Eddie asked me, 'What if Wellington is just like how things used to be? What if we can live like we used to?'

Honestly, if it's 'just like how things used to be' then I don't know if I want to be there. They'll probably tie me up like a wild animal, just like my last group. They'll all sit around and try to decide what to do with me once they figure out that I do what it takes to stay alive in this world.

It's not my fault some of us are better adapted to this shit than others.

God, the more I think this whole thing over, the more I'm considering just getting lost up north and never finding a place like Wellington at all. I don't need a group. Eddie thinks he does, but he doesn't. Groups are nothing but problems…

This map is pretty faded. Maybe we'll 'accidentally' lose our way next time I'm driving.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, everybody! This chapter marks the end of All I Can Give, but if it isn't obvious by the huge cliffhanger I'm working on a sequel as we speak. :P The sequel will follow Lilly and Eddie's journey north, exploring their growing conflict of interests in regard to the kind of survival environment they're each hoping to find.

In addition to my general gratitude above, I want to especially thank the reviewers who stuck by me and gave me feedback through every chapter of this admittedly-oddball pairing of characters. You guys made continuing this story really feel like it was worth it. So, thank you all!