Print into a police car in handcuffs. Anton was being rolled out on a stretcher toward the back of an ambulance. A cop was reading me my rights.
"Is he.. gonna be alright?" I asked. The cop looked at me like I was crazy.
"Yeah. He'll live. But you sure did a number on him," he said as he closed the car door.

"Anyway, I guess that's why I'm here."
"Well, our time is up for today. It looks like the court has you staying with us for.. thirty days," the man said as he checked my chart. "You'll talk with me, and a few other therapists, including an anger management specialist. You start group sessions tomorrow."

006 6/23/08

 

On My Way Out

As he walked away, he thought, Strange. I used to like it here.
He refused to turn around and watch the house fade as he got farther and farther away. It was his home. The only home he'd ever known. Leaving wasn't his choice, though. After what had happened, he had no other option. He refused to reminisce, as well. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember the happy times, and he certainly didn't want to remember that afternoon. He couldn't help it, though.
He thought of his mother. She had always taken care of him, up until the end. But she had done nothing for herself. He thought of the look on her face when she saw the gun. Utter disbelief. It was heartbreaking to consider that she really thought he was a good boy. That look of bewilderment had been frozen on her until the end of time. She would never understand. He refused to cry over her. He'd had no choice. If he hadn't taken action, it would have continued forever. Something had to be done. He had to put her out of her misery.
When he reached his father's office building, he was glad for the quiet the night provided. After hours, they would be alone. With everyone else home for the night, no one could get in his way. Nothing could mess this up. After stepping through the front doors, he stopped and pulled the gun from the waistband of his jeans. He didn't need to reload. He'd only fired one shot. He'd only need one more.
He paused for only a second outside the door with his father's name. He'd already come to terms with what was going to happen. This was his peace to make.
He didn't knock. He opened the door, and there sat his father. Hatred burned in him as he held up the gun. He waited for the look, the confusion, but it didn't come. Instead, understanding spread across his father's face.
"For Mom," he said, then pulled the trigger.

1654 6/24/08

 

Running

I wasn't sure how much longer my legs would hold out. I'd been running for over thirty minutes. Thirty minutes at top speed is a long time. I could feel pain tearing through my lungs as I tried to breathe, my body attempting to keep up with the unreasonable strain. I have to keep going, I thought. For Jenny. I felt myself slowing. Each step was harder than the one before. My legs were screaming for my to stop. I could barely hear the thud of my feet as they came down hard; it was being drowned out by the thumping of my heart, as it beat faster and faster, almost in time with my steps. I could feel myself slipping away. I was determined not to give up.
"Neil, are you on that damn treadmill again?" My roommate was home. "You're going to run yourself into an early grave if you don't take it easy."
I slowed to a jog, then finally a walk and turned off the machine. "Jenny said if I don't lose this weight, she's never going to go out with me."
Steven just stared at me. "Neil. She's never going to go out with you. It doesn't matter how much weight you lose."
I sighed as I sat down on the couch with my bottle of water. He was wrong. She just wanted me to be a better person. Every night I was on that treadmill. Every morning I was at the gym.
Steven saw the look