[PRIVATE]
I think I'm numb.
Woody is dead. I kinda had a feeling all along, but I didn't want to believe it. But he's gone. Jo is gone, too. I can't help but think that maybe John has something to do with it and I think me trying to protect him from Dash might have set up some red flags or something and I don't know what to do anymore. I just know that whenever I think of Bram, I feel scared. Not for me, but for him. Am I cursed? Is everyone around me doomed to have something horrible happen to them?
Maybe Byron had the right idea. Maybe he just saw this dark curse over us first and decided to try to make things better by eliminating himself from the equation in hopes that it would change the course of things.
What am I even saying? I can't even think that that's a viable option or course of thought. I can't let myself think that way.
John, please answer me. Please. Tell me that you had nothing to do with this. That it was just a coincidence or something. This isn't you.
But why does part of me remember his nails down my back and his teeth buried in my neck and think maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it is him. A part of him I don't want to see so I turn a blind eye to it...
I feel sick.
Woody is dead. I kinda had a feeling all along, but I didn't want to believe it. But he's gone. Jo is gone, too. I can't help but think that maybe John has something to do with it and I think me trying to protect him from Dash might have set up some red flags or something and I don't know what to do anymore. I just know that whenever I think of Bram, I feel scared. Not for me, but for him. Am I cursed? Is everyone around me doomed to have something horrible happen to them?
Maybe Byron had the right idea. Maybe he just saw this dark curse over us first and decided to try to make things better by eliminating himself from the equation in hopes that it would change the course of things.
What am I even saying? I can't even think that that's a viable option or course of thought. I can't let myself think that way.
John, please answer me. Please. Tell me that you had nothing to do with this. That it was just a coincidence or something. This isn't you.
But why does part of me remember his nails down my back and his teeth buried in my neck and think maybe, just maybe, I'm wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it is him. A part of him I don't want to see so I turn a blind eye to it...
I feel sick.