Diary of a KillJoy

They’ve returned. They found the bodies, and gathered supplies. I write this as I sit beside my brother’s body. I talk to him as though he is still here, and just in a listening mood. I never thanked him. He’s the one who found me, 6-years-old crying over the bodies of my dead parents. He helped me bury them. He raised me up until a about a year ago, when we found Agent. I miss him, I miss him so much.