Here we go again. This shit with a cop and his secrets. I don't not want to go down this road again. All day long, I think about telling Walt but I am actually afraid to tell him because I know he is disappointed in me. I don't blame him. I'm disappointed in myself. I understand having to pay the price for my choices but you know I really tried to do the right thing especially once I came to my senses about having an affair with Ed. To say I was young and stupid is true but I have been paying for the mistake far too long and now I am losing perhaps the best friend I have ever had.
I think there is some truth in what Sean says about me not wanting to go to Australia but the way Walt has distanced himself from me it doesn't sound like such a bad idea right about now.
The saddest part of me wants to help Walt find who is responsible for Martha's murder. I know he would stand by me if something happened to Sean. The fact that I can't be his friend right now and help him through this is very hurtful and I have no one to blame but myself. I'm sorry for bringing this shit with me and as much as I hate it, I am sorry for telling Walt the truth. I needed to tell him but I didn't expect the repercussions to be so painful. I miss the Walt I fell for. The renaissance cowboy who would flash his quick smile and his laughing eyes. I can't remember the last time Walt actually laughed. Laughed out loud.
I rake up enough courage to talk to him about Branch and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out he is uncomfortable with me in the room, so much so, he doesn't look at me. The one thing I could always count on is Walt holding my gaze and speaking with me, not at me, but that's no longer true. He is clearly preoccupied and not too comfortable with the door closed. What have you done, Victoria? What have you done to ruin this bond? I hate myself at this moment and regret every decision I have made.
As Walt puts the pieces together, we head out to the hidden trail expecting to find the ghost of David Ridges, and stumble upon Hector. My heart grows weary. I have seen my fair share of last breaths coming from Philly but I have never witnessed such gallantry in death. I wanted to reach out to Walt but didn't dare. His pain only intensifying by every decision outside of his control and I hate myself for putting any pain in his heart, any doubt in his heart.
I wish I was anywhere but here.