𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

36. Boggle and Beefaroni.

T H I R T Y - S I X
Boggle and Beefaroni.

There are good days and bad days, but the most common type of days are neutral days. Neither good nor bad, you just kind of survived. Those days are the ones you forget.

Whilst rather boring and monotonous, you have to have neutral days or else you can't have good days or bad days comparatively.

After what happened with David my days are unpredictable.

Each time I wake up it's like rolling a three sided dice—is that even possible?—sometimes I wake up in a foul mood, cursing at everything, my anger on a hair trigger. Those are the bad days. Sometimes I wake up and the sun is shining the perfect amount, the game is good and I don't trip. Those are the good days. The rest are fine.

As we walk day in and day out I can see Ellie's steady decline, each time we edge a little closer to our destination she seems to get a little more antsy. Nerves bubble below the surface at what is to come—the unknown eating away at her.

On my bad days and Ellie's stressful days, I feel bad for Joel. An angry-at-the-world—meaning men—woman, and an anxious-for-the-future teenage girl, must be an awful mix.

I doubt I'll ever be able to claw my way back to who I was. Before I was cynical, now I'm wary beyond belief.

Each time we see a man, which we've only seen a few times over the weeks, I can't help but want to hurt them. It's bizarre, the reason I want to hurt them is so they can't hurt women. My brain has been fucked over by men so many times I can separate the good from the bad—except Joel, I see him as more than just a man, he's... Joel. This frustration for men and the terror for them hurting women and girls can't end well. I know it won't, angry people don't live all that long. When you're angry you make mistakes, you can't see reason, and you get so fixated on a goal that you don't flee when you need to.

That's what happened with David, I was in a building swiftly burning to ashes, but I didn't run when I needed to. I stayed and smashed his face in, I didn't stop when he was very, very dead. I didn't stop when his face didn't look like David. I only stopped when my arms got too tired, if they didn't I think I may well have let myself burn to death; only realising the gravity of the situation when fire licked my skin and it was too late for me.

The weird thing is, I think I would be okay with that.

I have a certain level of disgust for what I did, but not enough that I regret it. Not enough that I could swear not to do it again if my, or someone else's life was on the line. I know that right now, if I heard the shrill scream of a woman or girl, there would be no stopping me. I'd run and I'd kill them without restraint.

"Bobbie!" I hear dull shouting, dull from where I've zoned out so completely that I can't hear anything. Too busy silently stressing. Jumping slightly I turn toward the voice, one I know belongs to Joel. "D'ya hear me?" He asks. Standing beside him is Ellie, who seems to be having a good day. Less anxious, more relaxed.

She even read off a joke.

Me, however, I'm having a bad day. A string of them, one after the next as my brain won't let me sleep. I'm plagued with memory after memory of what happened: the way the fire burned against my numb skin, the way my stomach twisted with nausea, the way the splattering of his blood felt against my skin, the rattling of his words in my pounding skull. All of it, I can't escape it.

At times like this, I can see why my mother liked drugs. It feels like it would be a rather pleasant escape.

She always smiled brightly, she gained energy and would clean for hours, going over multiple areas again and again. It went on for hours, I'd sit still and quiet, watching for the signs she was about to crash.