I honestly thought it was over with.
The late night rituals, the scarring, the taking of blood and the rope burns. I was scared and was sick of being used like a puppet. I decided to leave as soon as I could, but my issue was I had no memory of leaving.
I had no memory of taking the motorcycle.
I had no memory of taking thirty-thousand dollars.
I had no memory of packing my bag and leave another state.
I was on my own and had to survive on my instances, if I was going to make it in this world. The beast is what drives me to stay awake and never look back. I had made a quick stop from the constant ride around to watch the sunrise just above the horizon. The only thing that was keeping me calm was the cigarette that had been going in and out of my mouth. Normally, I would never touch such a vile thing, but it was my only savior until I felt calm. I was not about to cry over something that was not my doing and the memory of it all was fogged over.
Oh, how I wished that this was all just a dream, but I was deep in denial about it.