To be honest, I don’t know where I am.

Not having legally entered Peter’s country, leaving wound up a tad tricky after killing him and taking out two buildings in the process. A truck took me one place. I hiked somewhere else. A bumpy plane ride covered a fair distance. Waking up in the dark, I’m pretty sure I’m on a boat. It feels like a boat and stinks like one too.

Wherever I am, it’s dark, not that I mind. How’s that line go? “What do you see when you turn out the lights? I can’t tell you, but I know that it’s mine.” It’s a funny line. The darkness isn’t about what you can see but what you can’t see. I can’t see the blood on my hands. The scars on my face are lost to shadow. The fact that I can’t genuinely smile is irrelevant since no one can see my face. Who would want to see it?

I should care. All these things I don’t see should worry me. Maybe in the dark, I can pretend they’re not there. That’s what’s mine, I guess, the only thing left to me…denial.

God forgive me, I don’t know who I am.