These fucking lunatics had me drop the one off at her house and then go 'home'. This shit ain't home. She closes the bedroom door and slogs to the bed.

Go back to the couch. Still no call back, text, response. None from anyone. Mart's friends, our acquaintances. Nothing.

There is this fear. Fear of losing him, them. Fear of being alone, fear of living with these strangers forever. Fear of being blackmailed. Fear of being the reason for innocent deaths. Fear of never seeing them again. Fear of her dad. Fear of the truth being lied over. Fear of them never knowing. Fear of everything.

What if these people want to kill me? Torcher me? Use me to get whatever they want, to find everything to be known and use it against me? Against the people that raised me? They can't know anything.

They can't know anything about me, Mart, his friends, his enemies, his people. They can't know the things I've done, seen. The things that are thought, the things that happened.

This is absolute fucking hell. Torment.

The walls have slight shadows from the sun lowering behind the hill. One side is lit up, the other dark. The dark is more comforting. The sun can shine on her all it wants. Better leave me the fuck alone.

She rolls over, facing me "Why were you so quiet earlier?"

She talks too fucking much. Lay on the stupidly large couch and stare at the ceiling. The line between light and dark is ever so persistent.

She sighs and rolls onto her back "Is there anything interesting about you? You look like a pretty interesting guy"

"I'm not"

"Do you have any friends?"

Nosey bitch.

"Do you like school...?"

She talks to fucking much "I don't know"

"How do you not know? Either you hate it or you hate it a little less. Have you never been to school or something?"

"No?"

"Why?"

"Because"

"Because...?"

Fucking hell. Who talks this damn much? "Bitch, nun ya' damn business"

"You don't need to be rude. You'll fit right in with everyone at school"

The air here is too naked. There's no scent, the room is vastly empty. Never seen empty floors before or an unstained ceiling, There's no brown or yellow tints anywhere, only plain light green walls. Weird color combinations.

"Want to meet my mom or anyone?" Her voice is so low and hollow.

"No."

"Is there anything you want to do?"

Go home... Beat an old man's ass... Obliterate the government... Give the small child and her brother to their mom, that's the only person she talked about "No."

"You're boring"

"You too"

She groans before putting a pillow on top of herself. I'm always tired. Why not now? Nothing is happening. So fucking quiet. Goddamn. If this is only a house then how fucking quiet is a library?

The other girl was fucking annoying. I'm a damn fine driver. Paranoid ass bitch.

Everyone here are fucking bitches. The fucking migraine won't leave. There's no sun blinding the life out of me anymore. Damn nerves.

This is all fucking ass. Why did they take me from home? Why won't Mart respond? He's Mart, he can do anything with no excuses. Why did oldie damn near murder me and lie? The gauze wrapped around me is strict, confining. What does one do with it? How long is it supposed to stay on? Who put it on?

This is all fucking hell. At home, the worn-down apartment, there would be talking. I would be laying on the broken, stained and thin couch. This one is much nicer, but it doesn't feel right nor smell. There's no one here talking sex, drugs or the feds. No one yelling at each other or complaining. No shit music playing from a broken radio full of static.

No table full of coke, burnt spoons or lighters. No one with bumps, dents or holes on their arms. Right now I'd be watching some shitty reality show or asleep from a second hand high. Anything but silence. Silence from no one.

No one is creating this silence, yet it is so bothersome and invading. There's a lack of everything I know, everything that was taught. All is opposite from peace. Anyone would appreciate a break from the chaos, from the ear bleeding and anxiety, but now...

Now what?

The silence causes more anxiety. The unknown whereabouts about everyone causes distress. I'm alone. Everything is gone. There's nothing left. My fucking heart of all fucking things hurts. It's wrapped in thorns from my veins, tangled in webs of worry and stress. This cannot be the new life.

They've left me, been ripped away from me. I was dragged out. Watched everything get smaller till gone while walking down the stairs. Nothing is left. Fucking cur hasn't responded. He doesn't fucking care-

He has to. I've given my childhood to him, given everything. Didn't have anything growing up. He would be disappointed in me right now if he was here. His fat, short, hairy and short-tempered ass would be disappointed in me for lying here as a mess.

Even as he isn't here, he's still in my mind. Watching my every move, judging my insubstantial will to fix anything... He's the smart one, he should have known the feds were out to get his ass. Should have been more careful. Dumbass.

He would say it's my job to pay attention to the outside world. Was too high, couldn't differentiate the footsteps or the whispering. Everything from that night tied together. Every memory is a dream. None of it happened.

It shouldn't. If not, then the scenery would be different. I'd possibly be listening to breaking glass, a beeping microwave from unattended food. Listen to bitches degrade themselves for money.

The stupid clock above the closet keeps ticking. It echoes throughout the empty room. This is so fucking pathetic. Big ass space with nothing to clutter it. It accentuates the empty air. The clock ticking every fucking second. Not a sound to be heard.

I'm alone...