Sometimes we forget who we are.
It isn't always bad—sometimes we like to forget who we are and where we are and why we are. Sometimes it's like Heaven to forget who we are, who we once were.
But then we wake up from our stupor of forgetfulness. The skin we wore was only temporary. It turns to dust after the first use, because it isn't really us. And we take over again. We return to who we were before.
And that's when we realize what we've done. Sometimes we're proud of it.
Sometimes we're ashamed. We feel regret.
Sometimes we're terrified.
That's what happened when I woke up. I don't remember where I went or why. I don't remember for how long, and I can't make heads or tails of why I did what I did when I wasn't myself.
But it doesn't matter. All that matters is the hope that I'll wake up and this will be a dream. All that matters is the way I cry as I cling to her. All that matters is my prayers for forgiveness.
All that matters is the way I pray for a second chance.
But my prayers fall on deaf ears. I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve a second chance. I know that. I understand that. I understand that. I understand that. I understand that.
I just wish I knew what was going through my head when I killed Roxanne Ritchi. When I killed Minion. When I dismantled the spiderbot.
I just wish I knew why there are pieces of brainbot lying all over the ground. Why the lair is so silent. Why the blood on the floor isn't mine.
This I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't.
But it doesn't matter. None of it matters.
All that matters is how they'll find me like this, cradling her body, Minion's body not too far away. All that matters is how they'll immediately know I did it. How they won't ask questions. How they'll just pry me away from her and lead me away.
I hope they kill me.
But I know they won't.
Michigan doesn't have the death penalty.