Chapter 8 Part 2

Maxwell

I ponder on what just went down. Did I ruin things even further than they already were with her? Or did I help her understand me, where I came from? How far I came and how far I’m willing to go. That journal, though. Do I wish that she didn’t come across it? Yes. But only because I should have been there to explain things. Now she has this image in her head that contradicts what I’m trying so hard to prove.

That book has traveled many miles and several cities, but I don’t exactly know why I keep it. It doesn’t tell a version I’m particularly fond of. An old friend of mine repeatedly told me to burn it and never look back. The day I refused will come back to haunt me. Today is that day.

A knock on the door breaks my concentration. The constant knock forces me to move even though I don’t want to. There’s only one person I want to speak with right now, but let’s face it, she wouldn’t knock.

I slip a pair of pants on since I’m still in my undergarments. Looking at the ground with