There have been times that I have wondered whether or not I was wrong to have chosen such way of living. But gradually you have to succumb to the fact that you hardly decide.
The look on my parents’ faces, the last time I felt their hugs reaching my heart, the moment that I leaped into a faraway valley that they never knew, their non-existence despite their existence all ran through my mind in those few seconds that the officer took to contemplate his answer to my question.
He says I injured someone last night, my car hit someone, who is now critical…. Might die. I was in enough sense to remember that nothing of that sort happened. And I explained and explained…. But they do the procedures.
The relief that I felt when he spelled the matter must’ve shown on my face, that he got visibly unsettled with. But this I can handle. Only of course I have bigger problems. Who was the text from last night? What does the person know about me? Is he capable of implicating me this way? Why are things getting out of my hold.
All this pesters me as I walk away from my house, handcuffed with the officer. I can feel things rotting somewhere, but where?