A/N: Can you tell that this is a happy story yet? ...I thought not. XD

Disclaimer: The members of Avenged Sevenfold and their families are the complete proud owners of themselves.

January 3, 1847

We didn't reach Sacramento in September. A few days after Kelly was attacked by the coyotes, Valary and Michelle DiBenedetto's wagon broke down. They were a pair of Italian sisters who had come to America to escape debt. The wagon's axle snapped and a wheel was splintered. Some of the sympathetic travelers, including my family, stopped to help with repairs. We figured it would only take a few hours, but repairing it took three days. Valary and Michelle wouldn't stop thanking us afterward. I wanted little to do with them. At the time, Kelly was still extremely ill and I just wanted to reach Sacramento as quickly as possible.

A few weeks after that incident, Kelly died. She tried to hold on for as long as she could, but it became too much for her. I remember holding her in my arms as she took her dying breaths. I cried for a long time, not letting anyone take her corpse from my grasp. Ma was crestfallen as well. She didn't let any emotions through. She sat there, dead to the world, even after I stopped my sobbing. As soon as I stopped resisting, Pa took Kelly's body to a small clearing and buried her. A kindhearted mother came over to him and placed a wooden cross and some flowers in his hands. Soon enough, we were on the road again.

Ma never really recovered. She just sat there in the wagon, staring at nothing. She never even shed a tear. Katie wailed and screamed for milk, but Ma wouldn't respond. There were no other breastfeeding mothers in our traveling party either, and we knew the babe would die soon; she wasn't quite old enough for solid food. Ma refused to eat, too. We would offer her food, even going so far as to forcing it into her mouth, but she would just clench her jaw and tighten her lips. We eventually gave up, though we knew she would die, too.

Less than a week after that, Katie died. One day she just stopped fussing and when we turned around, Ma was holding her in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks; both of her daughters were gone.

After that, things only got worse. We stopped and made camp one night and woke up to snow the next morning. The silent storm had built up over five feet; far too much for wagons to travel through. We made ourselves cozy, knowing we'd be there a while. There were seventeen of us; the Donners, the Sanders, the DiBenedettos, the Bakers, and the Sullivans. We originally thought the snow would be temporary, but not only did it stay, it also built up more.

We quickly ran out of our supplies. We had expected to be in Sacramento long before now, and hadn't taken enough food. Soon, we had to slaughter our oxen. It was nice to have fresh meat, but each bite was bittersweet. We had no way to move our wagon now. Ma still would not eat. With each day that passed, she got thinner. By the time we had to butcher the Baker's horses, she was skin and bones. It wouldn't be long before she succumbed to starvation's greedy grasp.

And she did. Two weeks later, after we had almost lost all hope, she passed. Pa finally broke down. Seeing his wife's limp, lifeless body made him snap. I left him alone for the day, grieving silently. Matthew Sanders and Zachary Baker came over and comforted me, but eventually gave up. They knew losing half of their family would take a harsh toll on them, too. It was a price some pioneers had to pay, but I can't stop asking myself; why us?

A few days ago we ran out of animals to eat. Desperate, we turned to the only thing we could think of; humans. We hadn't had time to bury Ma, or Zachary's brother Matt, who had slipped away from hypothermia. We wouldn't do this unless absolutely necessary. I wonder if any of the other parties are trapped like we are.

~James Sullivan