I gotta save the girls.
I didn't know how long it had taken me to get back to Mexico and I didn't know how that I had found my bike, but I had.
I motored across the warm and sandy country by night, my head and soul screaming at me, making me suffer bloody torments that I didn't forsee.
Angel should have warned me about this, but then again, I thought, with an awkward laugh, he didn't know that this was going to happen to me and thus, I bloody suppose, couldn't have told me about it. In my head, with every tree that I drove by, I saw the face of some young girl that I had sucked the life out of, either alone, or mixed with images of Dru's face.
Every building that I passed reminded me of a young boy whose neck I had snapped or who's throat I had ripped out.
Every dirt road that I raced by reminded me of a family that I had left with a void, and I felt a scream billow out of my lungs as I passed into the border of the United States. The worst of it all though, were the pictures of Chola and of Nikki. They constantly flashed through my mind. They constantly caused actual physical sodding pain from inside of my chest.
I envisioned the train and taking Nikki's jacket, feeling her neck snap as she lay below me. I could actually taste the blood of Chola, in that Chinese warehouse during the boxer rebellion, but worst of all, I could see constant images of Buffy, and what I had tried to do to her. How could I ever try to hurt her?
I started crying, and it mixed with a scream and a laugh as Los Angeles became a faint memory to my south. I would never hurt her again. I gotta save the girls and that's what I was going to be about now. Buffy would never suffer again. I would fight for her, for all of the girls, for everyone.
I couldn't wait to see her. I only hoped that she would accept me, and all of this pain and screaming.
I motored across the warm and sandy country by night, my head and soul screaming at me, making me suffer bloody torments that I didn't forsee.
Angel should have warned me about this, but then again, I thought, with an awkward laugh, he didn't know that this was going to happen to me and thus, I bloody suppose, couldn't have told me about it. In my head, with every tree that I drove by, I saw the face of some young girl that I had sucked the life out of, either alone, or mixed with images of Dru's face.
Every building that I passed reminded me of a young boy whose neck I had snapped or who's throat I had ripped out.
Every dirt road that I raced by reminded me of a family that I had left with a void, and I felt a scream billow out of my lungs as I passed into the border of the United States. The worst of it all though, were the pictures of Chola and of Nikki. They constantly flashed through my mind. They constantly caused actual physical sodding pain from inside of my chest.
I envisioned the train and taking Nikki's jacket, feeling her neck snap as she lay below me. I could actually taste the blood of Chola, in that Chinese warehouse during the boxer rebellion, but worst of all, I could see constant images of Buffy, and what I had tried to do to her. How could I ever try to hurt her?
I started crying, and it mixed with a scream and a laugh as Los Angeles became a faint memory to my south. I would never hurt her again. I gotta save the girls and that's what I was going to be about now. Buffy would never suffer again. I would fight for her, for all of the girls, for everyone.
I couldn't wait to see her. I only hoped that she would accept me, and all of this pain and screaming.