“We’ll be right back,” was the    
last thing my Mom said before they     
left.                                  
     Four hours later, they still      
hadn’t come back.                      
     The rest of that night, after they
left, is a blur to me, and also the    
rest of the month. I remember answering
the door, a lot of people staying with 
me, then going to a funeral, and I also
remember crying more than I’ve ever    
cried in my life, but that’s it.       
     The rest is just a fucking blur.  
     I still don’t even know how they  
died, except that it was a car crash,  
and to be honest, I really don’t want  
to know. Maybe someday, but not today. 
     I do know one thing for sure. If  
they hadn’t stopped by to see me,      
they’d still be alive. It was all my   
* fault. I killed them.                    
     And as if that ain’t enough, I’ve 
also wondered about what happened dur- 
ing all that time my memory was gone.  
What if somehow, I stole a car, fol-   
lowed them and really did kill them?   
     I can’t even laugh at that one.   
     Someone even told me later, that  
while they were shoveling dirt on top, 
I jumped into my Mom’s grave and tried 
to open the lid. When I couldn’t do    
that, I started pounding on it, and    
screaming that it was all my fault. I  
should be dead, not her.               
     By the time they dragged me out, I
was crying and pleading with her,      
“Please Mommy, please, you promised."  
     I screamed that last part so loud,
that it startled the guys who were     
trying to pull me out, and they almost 
dropped me back in.                    



CHAPTER 1: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 15th
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