I’m tired of running. My mother and I ran from place to place in Sector 4.G.10 because of crazy gangsters. I thought crossing the border into the New United States would be the end of running.
The sun is almost down. It’s what I’ve been waiting for and dreading all day but I’m ready to go. For the trip, I stuffed a backpack I found with a flashlight, water bottle, a couple of cans of soup, aspirin and a jacket. I also found a hockey stick. It seems sturdy enough to help me get to my house. I wrapped the butt end with a couple of t-shirts and duct tape to soften the noise it makes when it hits the floor.
I’m ready…I think.
Honestly, I’m scared but I have to use it. I have to turn it into that anger and strength I felt with Mrs. Rosa. I need that rage. It’s the only way I’ll survive.
The sun has dipped into the horizon and there’s more purple than gold in the sky. A few more minutes and it’s time to go. My mind is filling up with possible dangers and fatal outcomes but I can’t think about all that anymore, I just have to go, I have to get home.
I hope this won’t be my last journal entry. But, until I make it somewhere safe, I think I’m going to be ending everything I write with that wish. So, officially the first time professed, I hope this won’t be my last journal entry.
I should pee first.