V
"Take care of yourself now, love," the nurse who had wheeled him to the hospital's doors said.
"I'll try," Sid nodded at her, pulling himself to his feet.
The nurse gave him a smile, then walked back inside with the wheelchair. Sid looked out at the rain that was pouring and with a sigh, pulled the hood of his ratty old sweatshirt over his head, bracing himself for the cold, wet walk to the nearest bus stop.
Once he got home, Sid found his mom's apartment empty. He turned on all the lights and walked to the bathroom. He didn't know what to expect. He couldn't even imagine his mother coming back here and scrubbing the bloodstained porcelain.
Sid started to think his father was right, it had been a stupid and ill thought through decision. He felt like he would never be able to deal with the guilt knowing how much horror he had put his family through. Nothing would make that scab heal, nothing would ever erase the memory from their minds. Sid knew they would always be thinking in the back of their minds, "Will he do it again?"
For the umpteenth time in however many days, Sid felt tears burn his eyes. He had been doing a lot of tearing up lately. But he was alone. Sid crawled into the bathtub, the place where he should have died, and started to cry freely.