I don't know what the terrain in California is an hour away from San Francisco going East, so please excuse the inacuracies. I'd ask my grandmother, but whatever...

Song:

Heavy in Your Arms- Florence + The Machine

The entire vacation Thor is telling me how I should move to San Francisco with them, and try to do something with my life again. But I feel like it would still be really incomplete even if I were trying to carry on my normal life.

I go home, and Jane tells me to feel better and come and visit whenever I feel like it. Thor claps me on the back and drives me home, a fog settling over the bay.

It's eerie.

Past

They had invited me out for a party.

There would be drinks, yes, but I was assuming my ride would stay sober. The kid never drank, so I'd just clapped him on the back and went for the booze. Bruce was a good kid. He wouldn't do anything stupid.

Or so I assumed.

By the end of the party, I couldn't find him. I had my car, and my keys, and my brother lived an hour away, parents gone. What was I supposed to do, sit out on the curb until I was sober enough to drive? No, that would just be lame.

And so I drove.

It wasn't all that late, but the streets were completely deserted. I knew that at least if I managed to crash I'd be the only one getting hurt, and maybe a tree or two, that would be all.

But my stupidity got the best of me.

I killed a man and a one-year-old boy, and injured another man very badly. One man that I knew all too well.

I still couldn't remember his name.

Jagged pieces of glass that had broken off from the windshield were imbedded in every spot on my body. I dragged myself out of the wreckage, and collapsed on the side of the road, crying my eyes out, as I knew what I had done.

I had ruined his life again.

Present

Coffee is unappetizing. Food is unappetizing. I just feel like I'm going to puke.

The nightmare always leaves me nauseous afterward, and sometimes I even have to bolt to the bathroom so I can puke my guts out. It's mostly dry heaving though because I hardly eat anything anymore, and this worries Thor. He always asks me how I'm eating, and how things are going, but the only thing I can think of is how I can get it off my chest.

But now it's gone.

I ignore his calls, and just collapse on the couch as I listen to the answering machine pick up for the umpteenth time. He leaves the same messages, and I delete them afterward. I think he's started to figure my system out though.

I feel sick again, but avoid the bathroom. I haven't eaten anything all day, and it's almost noon. Some would call me anorexic, but I'm just simply not hungry anymore.

I just simply don't care.

At the sound of a motorcycle in the driveway though, I manage to drag myself off the couch and over to the screen door.

He'll keep chasing me no matter how far I run.