the road has been too long

A collection of various memories belonging to my characters. They aren't likely to be written in order, I'll just post whatever I felt like writing. This topic is also likely to contain occasional drabbles or conversations or any other pieces of writing revolving around my characters.

→ My character topic  - where you can learn more about the characters whose lives I will undoubtedly make more difficult and angsty than necessary.

→ Ruin your characters' lives with me.

→ Zander West.

→ Iris Andrews.

→ Iris Andrews.

july 28, 7:41 am.
In front of the living room TV, Zander sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes glued to the screen. He had been watching the news for 2 hours and 36 minutes in hopes of seeing something about Max. He had gotten home at exactly 1:23 AM and watched the news then until it ended at 2:00 AM. In the 3 hours and 13 minutes that Zander had been watching the news, he had seen information about the accident appear 4 times. Of those 4 times, only twice had Max's name appeared. Whenever it happened, Zander seemed to isolate himself from the world, he saw things as if he was outside his own body. Things seemed to almost slow down for a moment.

He saw how Max's name was just another name on TV, a name sometimes not even important enough to show by itself. It was funny how things that were important to some people could just be things that happened in the news to other people. Words that flashed along the banner at the bottom of the screen for 10 seconds before they were gone. 10 seconds that were important to Zander but just another 10 seconds of names with no meaning to other people watching the same news.

He didn't know why he was watching the news in the first place. For closure, he would guess, but he knew from the start he would never get any from watching the news. Maybe just seeing his name would remind him that there really had been a Max Johnson. That not even 12 hours ago, Zander had a living, breathing friend who sneezed and talked and joked and laughed like anyone else.
It wasn't as though Zander needed any more reminders. Reminders were every where. In every rocket and alien on the faded wallpaper of his bedroom, every drop of water than dripped from the tap. Every time he closed his eyes for too long, he heard the sound of metal crashing and tearing and twisting and then he was reliving it all over again.

So he couldn't sleep. Sleep wouldn't make it any better anyway, it would certainly make it worse. Sleep always made it worse. You woke up, thinking it was another day, it would all be better. But then you realize you've woken up in the middle of the night, your legs tangled in your sheets, cold sweat beaded on your skin. And it's not any better. Things are always the same as when you went to sleep, there was no changing it. But you have to go back to sleep again because that's just what you have to do and then you had to wake up again in the morning and face it then. Zander didn't want to face it.

Seeing Max's name on the news was probably his way of trying to face it, but even though it was important to him, Max's name was just a name on a screen for him too. He knew that he wasn't facing it by getting no sleep and watching the weekday anchormen and anchorwomen talk with fake sympathy about a car crash they weren't in any way involved in. They had seen it all before, of course. Most people had. It was a fresh pain for him and everyone who had loved Max, but car accidents were a dime a dozen. Max's death wasn't anything special, he was just part of a statistic now. Approximately 37 000 people died because of car crashes every year. Max was just a part of that 37 000 for that year.

And yet he wasn't, he was so much more than that.
So Zander kept watching the news, because he didn't know what else he could do.

...

Looking back on the memory, Zander thought maybe he had always known it that was his fault Max had been in that car crash and died.

august 31, 8:09 pm.
Iris' pale hands were stained crimson red.
She choked back a sob as she applied pressure to the wound just above Abigail's rib cage. She had only been trying to stop the bleeding for the past two minutes but it had felt like so much longer. The light in Abigail Winters' eyes was failing fast and Iris was trying to hold onto a hopeless cause. They both realized it but she continued regardless. Finally, Abigail seemed to be unable to watch her any more and slowly drew her hands away and held them. Iris' heart broke into a million pieces.

"Please don't go," Iris pleaded, tears leaving clean tracks through the dirt and blood on her face. "Don't leave, Abby, stay here. I need you. Don't go." She held onto the younger girl's hands tight, clinging desperately to the feeble pulse and warmth. Abigail shook her head weakly in reply and managed a smile.
"It's okay." Iris stroked Abigail's blonde hair with her cleaner hand and closed her eyes - which still did nothing to stem the stream of tears.

"It's okay." Abigail repeated. "Be strong, Iris. You have to be. You'll take care of Derek, right? Do you promise?" Iris wasn't sure how Abigail did it but she still managed to look so stern. Iris sighed, smiled despite herself and nodded.
"I promise." Abigail smiled again and closed her eyes. And then she was gone.

Iris took a rattling breath and brushed Abigail's hair back. She pressed her forehead to hers and whispered a quiet blessing in Greek. She remained like that for a few moments before standing up with Abigail in her arms. She carefully placed the girl's body down somewhere out of the way before turning to appraise the battle that had raged on around them, murder in her eyes. Two minutes later, she was leaping onto a manticore's back and savagely driving her sword through its neck, reducing it to a pile of dust. In fifteen minutes, the battle was over.


Abigail and Iris were sprawled out on the elder girl's bunk, Abigail flipping through a magazine as Iris braided her hair to match her own. Iris' fingers were deft and efficient but she took her time, combing her fingers through Abigail's blonde hair because she knew that Abigail loved the feeling.

"I know as a daughter of Athena I'm supposed to only read intellectual and thoughtful books but I'm allowed to have one guilty pleasure, right? So my terrible love of teen magazines is okay, right?" Abigail asked, trying to look back at Iris only to have her head gently pushed back into place.
"Everyone secretly loves terrible teen magazines, Abby." Iris said, shaking her head. "And please, as if you would ever read an intellectual and thoughtful book." Iris teased. Abigail shot her a look although she laughed in the way that people did when they were faced with something that was unexpectedly true.

"Well, I'm not a nerd like you, Risa." Abigail shot back. Iris gave her an offended look as she finished the braid.
"A nerd? What are you, 10? Oh wait..." Abigail threw a pillow at her and laughed.
"I'm 14 and you know it, you butthead."
"I know, but when you call me things like butthead I feel you're 8 all over again and I get nostalgic." Abigail rolled her eyes and began to say something but was interrupted by Iris suddenly attacked her with tickles.

The two of them were still laughing and out of breath when Derek and Lillia walked in, smiling. Iris tried not to wince. Tried not to notice how they had forgotten they had been holding hands and dropped them too late. One second after walking through the door, one second too late.
"What's going on here?" Derek raised an eyebrow at the two of them. Abigail jumped up and latched onto her brother, her face still flushed from laughter
"Iris knows all the places where I am most vulnerable to tickles and I think you should do something about it." She stated matter-of-factly. A mischievous smile took over Derek's face and he began to stalk over to where Iris sat on her bunk.
"Is that so? Well, I happen to know the places where Iris is most vulnerable!" Iris kept the smile pasted to her face and laughed when he feathered his fingers over her ribcage but she couldn't shake off the cold fist beginning to close around her heart.

He did know. And he had hit her where it hurts.


The break-up happened after the shroud-burning ceremony for Abigail and it was largely uneventful.

"You're in love with Lillia." Iris stated lackadaisically. Her glacier eyes were devoid of emotion, betraying none of the hurt she felt. Derek turned to her abruptly and opened his mouth to speak, presumably to make excuses, but he thought better of it and just nodded. Iris blinked at him and then turned away.

"I made Abby a promise and I'm going to keep it. I'll die before I let you, but I don't think I'll ever forgive you." She said coolly, she turned back again and stared at him. "Quite frankly, I think you and Lillia are both deceitful, backstabbing scum but your sister adored you and I adored your sister so when you need help, I'll help."

Iris Andrews would be strong. She would bear the weight of Abigail's death, she would bear the responsibility of keeping Derek Winters alive, she would bear her pain and the sting of betrayal and she would not shatter and break into a million glass pieces. No matter how much she wanted to.

july 16, 2:21 am.
It had taken a while to realize that she wasn't even slowing them down. All her hacking and slashing and they hadn't even stumbled. She had been bitten twice before someone dragged her off to the iron fortress next door. The first two days, she had been in quarantine because of the bites. Then they realized that it wasn't an infection, it was a planned and executed apocalypse. They found out the hard way when they started recognizing former friends.

Iris had witnessed at least four different emotional breakdowns in the last three days and had to push aside two people and deliver the finishing blow herself. It was better to finish them off as soon as you could, before they could do too much damage, too many things they'd regret when they were actually dead again. She couldn't help but feel that it was undeniably cruel and unfair to deny a person their well-earned right to rest in peace, but at the same time, she just felt detachment as usual. Apathetic Andrews she heard some of them say in a tone they thought low enough that she couldn't hear.

How stupid and self-indulgent people were. As if lowering their voice would change the fact that they were saying it and that she could hear it.

Now, she sat in her sleeping bag in the corner, wrapped up in a blanket even though it was one of the hottest nights that summer, unable to sleep even though it was two o'clock in the morning. Of all the things she had been expecting when she returned to camp, a zombie apocalypse was not one of them. After five days of everything, she was just tired. She had wanted a break. Some time to lick her wounds because despite everything and the barriers she constructed, she was hurting. Underneath her stony face, a storm raged. She had always believed her father would never hurt her but he had possibly hurt her worse than anyone else ever could.

Shouldn't it be some kind of crime to not to love your own child?


"Please leave, Iris." She whipped around to see her father standing in the doorway to her room, a pained expression on his face. "I have a family now and I love them. I don't want to see them get hurt." Iris looked at him and turned back around to her bookshelf, fists clenching.
She had already decided that her father was dirt, sneaking, lying, and two-faced. Her mind realized this, but her heart didn't. And she still loved him despite everything. It was difficult when your heroes were smashed down. The fact that he was nothing she had known him to be was a tough pill to swallow.

Despite herself, angry tears spilled down her cheeks but she remained silent as her father tried to make more excuses and continued to beg her to leave. Finally, when she was unable to listen to him any longer, she turned to him, her eyes empty and cold. "I get it, I'll leave. Just get out." He started at her tone but disappeared without complaint. She looked after him for a while calmly before hauling out a cardboard box and then turning to her bookshelf. She emptied out the shelf and carefully piled the books inside the box before placing the box in her doorway.

On top of the bookshelf were memories. All the things from her childhood, a time that seemed like it had been ages ago. She appraised these things detachedly and then abruptly grabbed hold of the shelf and pushed it to the ground, all the objects clattering to her hardwood floor. She turned to her vanity and swept the framed pictures of her and her father off it, painstakingly crushing each one underfoot.
She tore down her posters, her certificates on the wall, ripped off all the things pinned to her bulletin board. She emptied out her drawers and desk, tore up the papers, threw them up and rained them down. She ripped down the clothes in her closet, the clothes he had bought for her, and then she was done. Iris didn't scream or cry as she destroyed what used to be her room. She did the job efficiently, quickly, whirling about the room and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake.

She stared at the ruin of a room and then picked up her box of books and briskly walked out. Her hands were cut and bleeding but she didn't seem to notice. She grabbed three credit cards and some cash and then left without saying anything.