I feel like I’m safe once I’m back in my dorm room. Waffle House didn’t sober me up like that dark-haired chick did. I at least was smart enough to stop by and see if my bag had survived like Sam said it might. Usually I cursed my mother for sowing my name on my shit, but it just saved my life when my bag was handed to me. While the outside definitely saw some fire and would have to be replaced, maybe some of the stuff in the outside pockets were gone and my plastic cup that was now a melted attachment to the strap was definitely gone, the inside was just fine. All my books were safe. Thank God for that. I knew I didn’t have the money to replace them, especially my mythology book. That fucker cost me as much as my other five books combined. Couldn’t tell about my laptop right now, but my guess was that it was toasted.

I did make another stop at the student center to buy a new bag, and once I was back at the dorms I took the time to move everything over. I was quiet as possible so that I didn’t wake Sam up. I know how to be a good roommate at times. Although I guess I was still a little more louder than I thought because he turned over and groggily glared at me, or maybe where he thought I was at.

“Please be quieter,” he grumbled still half asleep. I could see that he was falling back asleep as he spoke though, so I knew if I stayed still long enough he’d be out again. Two months with the kid and I already knew how to handle this. Not my first day back in after a party. And won’t be the last either.

Once he was back out I resumed my task. Once done I pulled the paper that the chick gave me from my pocket and looked at it. I knew it was an address for some place local but didn’t know where.

I’ve only been in the city since I started school this year and I still didn’t know the city. Not like I knew New York like the back of my hand, but that’s cause that’s New York. Have you been there? It’s fucking massive. I knew my neighborhood and a couple of the neighborhoods around it, but after that I’m as lost as a tourist. The locals here though are way different. Sam knew every neighborhood like he had been raised in each one. And getting directions from them is insane. I asked Sam once how to get the closest Walmart and he started to tell me buildings to turn at. Like has no one heard of street names? Seriously?

I set the paper aside with plans to throw it away later. I had no questions about my father. Well maybe one. Where is he so I can go punch his face in for leaving us. Both me and my mother had no idea which prison he was spending the rest of his life at, but that was his choice. Grumbling to myself I grabbed one of my textbooks and settled down in my bed to study.

I couldn’t even make it past the first page though. Thoughts of my father continued to pop up. Suddenly I was ten again sitting in the courtroom. Mom was sitting next to me pushing tears from her eyes as another witness stepped away after saying that my father had raped her. It was like the twentieth one that had talked about it. My father was sitting in front of us like a statue. Blue eyes were as solid and as cold as ice. Shoulders stiff in his orange suit. Back straight. I knew that I probably mirrored him. The first three witnesses had definitely shocked me, but now it didn’t even faze me. The stories were the same, descriptions the same, and their tears were the same. The only thing that shocked me was that I was the son of that man in front of me.

I threw my textbook to the end of my bed and grabbed the sides of my head. Why the fuck am I remembering this shit? I put it behind me. I delt with this shit in therapy. Mom’s the one who keeps reliving this shit, why am I now? Just because some bitch mentions him I’m stuck remembering that monster?

I get out of my bed and change into my work out gear. A run would help. I hope.

I leave the room and the dorms and just run. My thoughts won’t reach me if I run faster. Right? I wish.