The boy has not said a word for eight days. Neither have you. You have not opened the book for eight days. You have done nothing but stare at your feet as you force yourself forward. You have never been this tired. But you don't stop, because if you stop, the boy starts shaking again, and screaming. You don't stop because you can't suffer to see what you did to him.
One thing is keeping you going: Kansas City. There are about ten days left. Ten days too long.
