Page 187 of Wrath

There are all the hairspray smells. The talking about nephews. Birthday presents. I’m just one of many.

He’s staying in this weekend. He’s reading a book. I haven’t seen the spine yet.

I bought some pills from someone in Cottondale, but I’m not using them.

That’s not what people like me do.

People like me.

Everything feels like a joke, but I’m not laughing. I can’t sleep. I only have two bottles of water.

It’s a long ride. Longer than I thought it would be. Sometimes when we stop I want to get off and walk away, but I’m too scared of walking when I don’t know where I’m going.

Every road leads to the old, pale prison. Every road leads to those woods.

I brought my journal, one I bought at work, but I can’t write in it.

I’m hungry, so I decide to take the pills.

Pills are just a euphemism.

By the time we get to San Francisco, I don’t remember writing that.

I get a taxi to the church, but it’s too busy. I can’t get close. I ask the driver where the McDowell house is, and he takes me by it. Iwrite down the address. Then I have him let me off at a park. I check the internet and he was right, my driver.

Why’s this pastor’s house so public?

Anyone could get in.

It was very stupid not to bring food.

I feel like I might pass out as I walk.

I’m at the gates of the place, feeling scared and stupid.

I’m not crying, though. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I’m a football player.

I’m so hungry.

Maybe they like football.

The boyfriend looked nice, and his name sounds poetic. All the forums said his name is Vance Rayne.

Should have stayed in Alabama. Someone drives through the gates right in front of me. I follow the car in and walk up the long driveway. I don’t feel well. Don’t they have security?

I see Miller from the bottom. My head in his lap.

I see these fantasies. Not for stepbrothers.

In the garage, I lie down to feel the cool cement on my skin. My mind whirs like a dishwasher. Promised land. And mentally ill. Keywords.

I pat my pocket for my phone before I pass out.

It’s cold in their garage, but I’m still thirsty. Can’t find water.

I can’t get my phone to work. My hands are shaking.

Stupid, stupid Christopher.

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