I also think that sometimes, not  
having one would be a good thing. Not  
being able to remember horrible things 
would be at the top of that list, but  
I also have to believe that even with  
a bad memory, I’d still remember       
Scratches and also be saving animals.  
     Anyway, using some kind of weird- 
ass logic, that I still don’t fully    
understand, I figured that I had to go 
turn myself in and take responsibility 
for what I’d done.                     
     I had to pay the price and go to  
jail. Maybe, do a couple years, or may-
be even more. I didn’t have any idea,  
and I didn’t really care anyway, be-   
cause at the time, it was something I  
had to do, before I started doing      
anything else.                         
     I found the only photo I had of my
* Mom and Dad, and one of Scratches, to    
always remind me, grabbed a toothbrush,
and put them in my backpack.           
     I took a quick look around my     
trailer of death, not expecting to ever
see it again. There was nothing there I
really wanted to keep or save or see   
again, except bad memories.            
     I just walked out and didn’t even 
bother to lock the door behind me.     
     On my way to the police station, I
wondered if the Darkness would take a  
break while I did this, and all I could
do was hope. I didn’t really relish the
idea of knocking myself out inside a   
cell built with cement blocks.         
     Although, if I started doing that,
they’d probably just put me in a rubber
room wrapped in one of those crazy     
jackets, and I’d be forced to watch    
that video forever.                    



CHAPTER 1: WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 15th
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