Home, home on the range

It feels good to be back. I feel hot, sweaty, itchy where the ropes bound me, achy from not moving - but it feels so good to not be under that...man's clutches.

I say man hesitantly. I don't think he's entirely human anymore.

But I am, and Carrie is, and Mystery and Sir Thighpiece and - well, not the dog.

It feels good to be back.

I love Butterfingers. Have I said that before?

Singing the blues

I feel a little queasy. Maybe too much candy? But maybe I'm just paranoid. It's been fairly peaceful and...well, you know. The calm before the storm. Luckily there are some 24-hour convenience stores that sell Butterfingers through rain or shine.

I can't help thinking...would it be better if I hadn't shown myself?

Oh well. Too late to think about that now.
Om nom nom.

Reunion

I was sleeping off a meal - can you guess what it consisted of? - at the edge of those...boundaries, when shouts and yells ripped me from my rest. I recognized the voices; I've heard them a thousand times in my life, in my dreams, and in the odd nightmare. I rarely have those anymore.

The first scream woke me up. By the second I was running, my feet pounding, my head pounding, my heart pounding. I must have gotten lost or turned around a couple times in those dark woods, under the light of the moon, but eventually I found them. My thoughts were racing, my mind overflowing with responses, my imagination running wild. All I saw was her, there, and her standing over her with a knife. It was confusing to see two of the same person, one trying to kill the other, but I tried to do the most rational thing.

I tackled her, I tackled the one who was going to hurt her. I knocked her down and she fell onto her own knife. I turned away; I couldn't bear to look at it. Even if it was a cruel trick I didn't want to see her dead. But as I held the living Carrie I knew that it was a cruel trick. I cradled her in my arms and the way she looked at me and the way she said my name I knew it was her, and not some weird doppelganger. All the same, I had to get myself away from there, and I had to get her away from there. My knees were weak like jelly and my head hurt like someone had set a bomb off in there. So I lay down on the ground, and I waited for someone to find us.

I killed someone. No - something. And I didn't do it on purpose. But it was still my fault.

What does that make me?

Why am I any better?

Worried

I shouldn't be staking out the place either, but there are some strange, strange people waiting, watching. One of them even looks like her...I'd get a closer look but I'm scared. I doubt they'd be nice to me. Just because there might be good in everyone does not mean everyone is good.

So for now, I'll wait along with them. I'll watch as they do. I'll sit here quietly and munch on my candy.

Rain on me

I'm singing in the rain, I'm singing in the rain...

Have you ever watched raindrops run down a window? Not just seen them, or followed them, but really watched them. They make such beautiful patterns, running into each other and combining until you get a really big raindrop. And if you're lucky, it makes a pattern. Sometimes you'll get one of those super-drops and it'll run down the glass until it hits a smaller one, and split. Then the two new drops will go in two different directions and slide down a little bit and maybe even meet up again - and then you can see a heart. And you'd never have noticed it if you weren't watching.

But sometimes you wish you could do more than watch. You want to be that raindrop, joining and splitting and then finally joining again. You want to be one half of that heart, but you can't do that, because the other raindrop has suddenly seemed to evaporate.

Then again, what goes up must come down. Eventually it'll rain again, and you'll be reunited.

FOUND YOU

Heh...that's not funny.

I think I saw her today. No - I know I saw her today. I'm afraid she didn't recognize me, and by afraid I really mean afraid. Have I changed so much? But then, maybe that's better.

In the store. She was in the candy isle, reaching for a Butterfinger, no less. She couldn't quite get it, though, so I took it down for her. She smiled; the same smile I remember. I let it sink in, memorizing every detail in case I couldn't see her again. Even when she left I followed. Of course, she was not alone, but I focused only on her...maybe I should have stayed back some.

She smiled at me as if I were a helpful stranger. She smiled at me as she might if I had cracked a joke. She smiled at me, and it nearly killed me inside. But she'll remember someday. I know she will.

Four years

But I'll find you someday. Even if it takes me another four years. Another forty. Even if I have to fall off a hundred bridges. And I know you won't want me, you won't want to have to look at me, you won't want to face me after what you did. But I promise:

I forgive you.