It's a very short addition here, but I'm not writing well enough to continue at the moment, and the next part is the thing I've been looking forward to, so I want it to be good. Thanks for the reviews!

It wasn't even 1:00 and I had a full day ahead of me, just waiting for the next day. I had a strong urge to go see my mother, but I didn't want to take any chances with Sark set to move, so I stayed home. At first, I attempted to pass the time by watching TV, but I soon discovered- not to my surprise- that there was nothing even remotely intelligent on, not even on the History Channel. So I decided to familiarize myself with my father's apartment, which I had very rarely been to.

The kitchen was neat and orderly, as expected. The bathroom was tidy, and obviously kept quite clean. As I made my way down the hall, I realized that I couldn't bring myself to enter his bedroom. I stood by the door for a few minutes, looking in, but something stopped me from crossing that threshold. I eventually turned away and continued walking.

I found my way to a room that obviously functioned as his library, and began to look at the collection of books. Not surprisingly, it consisted mainly of classics. I found Jane Eyre, The Great Gatsby, Frankenstein, and a number of others. There was also a large amount of mythology and philosophy. I eventually picked out Lord of the Flies and sat down in a chair.

I never even opened the book.

As I sat down, I began to think about why I was there, in my fathers apartment, alone. And I realized it all came back to me. No matter what Weiss said, it was my fault. Sloane was the one who carried out the actions, but the actions were taken because of me.

Thoughts of Francie, Will, Dixon, and Diane haunted me. I sat there for over an hour, just letting the images play out in my head. I soon felt myself drifting off to sleep, with memories still plaguing me. I knew it was because I deserved no respite from my own crimes. Those four people, and numerous others, would have no peace, and neither should I. As my eyelids began to feel heavier, my thoughts began to grow darker, until I slipped to sleep in a world of violent darkness.

I was jolted awake around 4 in the morning. I didn't know what had caused it, but I was filled with an intense feeling of dread. I reached over and turned on a light, then looked around anxiously. I didn't honestly expect to see anything, but it was just a reaction. I stood up and wandered down the hall, looking everywhere. I knew it was a pointless activity; the source of my fear was internal, not external, and I knew it would always be there. I finally settled on the couch to watch mindless infomercials while I waited for the next 8 hours to pass. Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, the inane ramblings of the salespeople did nothing to detract me from the overwhelming anxiety that continued to assault my soul.