Chapter 973

• In my dream, I fought back. When the first hit connected with my nose, I took the blow. When the second hit me in the stomach, I did nothing. When he kicked for my ribs, I rolled. I yelled for Amy to get out of the house. Somehow, she was dressed now. She tries to argue with me. She's screaming at my father to stop. He grabs her elbow and flings her away from us, intent on getting to me. I tackle him. In that dream logic way, the fight is just over. I grab Amy and we leave. We sleep in my car near the park. I tell here that we'll be okay. I tell her that everything is fine. I wake up in the dark art studio alone.
• It's only three in the morning. Fuck. I never slept anymore. And with dreams like that, who the hell would want to?
• It had now been three weeks since we'd been discovered. I hadn't left the art studio at all except for food, even then only late at night when there were fewer people around. The idea of even engaging in small talk with people filled me with complete dread. Dr. Miller's wife, Becky, was a registered nurse. She checked up on me several times, monitoring the healing progress on my ribs. More than once, I caught her eyeing my supply of prescription painkillers, doing a mental count of how many she thought I should approximately have left. As devastated as I was, it had never occurred to me to purposely overdose myself on the pills.