Wanted to post yesterday. Couldn’t. Too much pain.
Once the adrenaline from my escape wore of, the pain really hit in full force. Much of Monday was spent lying in my car, trying to move as little as possible. Couldn’t eat or sleep for the entire day.
It’s gotten better today; I’ve gone from OHGODEVERYINCHOFMYBODYISBURNING to something I can tolerate, albeit after having chugged half a bottle of ibuprofen. Hopefully this means it will eventually go away.
With my newfound ability to move, I looked on the news to see what they say happened at my apartment. Former apartment. The entire complex was burnt down; far, far worse than anything my fireworks could have done. Looking at the pictures, some of the brick walls have been melted, and I’m pretty sure bricks have a pretty damn high melting point. Lots of people were caught asleep in the fire, though there hasn’t been an official report on the number of dead. Police are calling it arson. Which I suppose it technically is.
A final note: I checked my parents’ house. Wanted to see what happened there.
The home was empty of people; no mother or father to be found in it. I should have expected that, really. But I’d been hoping for some kind of closure; even finding their bodies would have been fine. This was just, vanishing, emptiness. The entire home is too quiet, too empty. I’d first thought about spending time more time there, possibly using it as some manner of base camp, but I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather sleep in my car than in that tomb.
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