First things first
I don't wanna be forgotten
Even worse
I don't wanna be alone
A sick and solitary bastard walking down the streets, while the fireworks were exploding on the sky, cheering up all the town with its lights and colors.
What was I thinking when I decided to come out of the shadows? That John was going to be happy to see me? That he was gonna hug me and thank the Lord for my return? Why did I had to be so stupid and hopeful? When had I lost my mind?
His punches were painful, but nothing could do more harm than his eyes, so filled with anger, pain and anguish. Watson was furious, and it was his right — what kind of friend plays dead for two bloody years and decides to "come back from the dead" in a suddenly night?
What the hell I had in my mind, after all?
And now, on 5th November, celebrating the holiday of a betrayal, I was searching for a away to find myself again in the middle of the poverty and darkness, trying to put away all that pain that was ripping my heart and my soul out.
John was happy with his new woman. He would rather spend his afternoon making bakery instead of going on a case with me. He would rather go to the supermarket with his wife instead of running all around the town after the guilty one.
I realized then, laying down in the middle of the ugliness of that small alley, that I was back to square one.
Alone. Abandoned. Forgotten.
And it was easy to swallow when I also realized that the realization of my worst nightmare was entirely my fault.
