I’ll save you the pitiful story of me crawling and stumbling for four very long miles and just skip to the part where I was lying on the floor of my locked room, listening to disturbingly loud music after having taken a shower and putting a note on the door that said I was working on a project and wasn’t to be disturbed. Figured that oughta keep Kyle satisfied until I could passably function.

The Red Pathways ended up giving me the next couple days off, which I spent hiding from the world in my room. I had enough snacks hidden away that I only left my peaceful kingdom when I needed to use the bathroom. I think Kyle knocked on the door a couple times, but I never answered him. There was no way I was sharing this scene of my show with anyone. This was a performance with only me invited. And there were no reruns.

I’d never been in such a huge amount of physical pain. I couldn’t describe it to you in words, even if I tried.

And I’m sure right now you’re thinking. Sawyer. You need to go to the hospital. Yeah? And then what dear reader? Tell them I fell down a hill while running? Yeah, no. That might work as an excuse for a friend or acquaintance, but these are medical professionals we’re talking about. I’m pretty sure they know a beating when they see one. And that would make it to the cops. And then my life and the life of everyone I cared about really would be ruined.

Not only was my body and mind bruised the rest of me decided to revolt too. The sniffles I’d developed during the walk back never quite went away. And the tickle in my throat took no time in growing to a sore throat. I guess walking miles in the cold of winter without proper clothing after a beating will have that affect.

So I stayed in my room, where I had plenty of time to recover, think, reflect, and make a plan.