Six.

I woke up and looked at my leg. The wound didn't look too bad, certainly not infected, but it could use a little attention. I decided it wouldn't hurt to just go get a little ice from Johnny's. I reached into my pile of stuff that now lacked an actual box thanks to my little stunt yesterday. I sifted through it all, old pictures, clothes, and there at the bottom were some dollar coins. I grabbed a few just in case they weren't feeling too sympathetic at Johnny's. Just as I started to climb up onto my feet, I caught a glimpse of that small card. That small card that used to be my life. I only caught the first half of it, but it stuck in my mind for the entirety of my walk: 157 Walker La--. I tried to get it out of my head but I couldn't help but wonder if they were still there, still happy. It made me so tired thinking about it. Do they still blame me? Do they still hate me? My breathing got quicker, shorter. What am I doing? I hobbled over behind the theater and leaned against an old shed. Panicking, I tried to unlock it, but I had no luck. I heard someone coming. They can't see me, not like this. They just can't know. I turned, and suddenly another set of eyes were inches from mine. I felt like I was looking in a mirror; that same fear, that same guilt. Was I imagining it? It felt like I was back at that river, watching Tommy, while that same look began to posses my eyes just as it possessed these eyes. Is this some cruel joke? Was God punishing me, finally? I try to punish myself every day, and yet this is the worst. These two eyes, taking me right back to my mistakes, back to who I really am: scared, guilty, and motionless. But then, right as I began to focus on who was before me, they were gone. I saw brown hair, and that was all. Was it Tommy? Surely, I'm going crazy. I shook it out for a minute, then picked up my scattered dollar coins, and headed on to Johnny's. I had to put this in the past. This is who I am, not that look, not that mistake, not that guilt or fear. This is me.