A hurriedly written entry in Magpie's scruffy journal

I’ve been on the road too long. Fuckin basement apartments or the most uncomfortable, dirty floors. I suppose I’ve at least managed to keep a roof over my head but it ain’t enough. I’d never swap a life of surprise for one of personal effects and sterile comfort. Aristocracy has never been my style anyway. I need somewhere where I’ll be accepted again, where I wont be kicked in the ribs by some inferiority-complex-ridden-cop telling me to “Move along nigger!” every time I pass out on the street. I miss my childhood, no crime, no crooks, no junk. I didn’t even think getting my ass kicked by my Dad every time he came home was any sort of heartache. He told me it was because he loved me so I thought all parents were the same.

Back on the junk again, managed to stay away for a while, then Kacy left me, cheap bitch, she couldn’t be honest with me anyway. Left me here in this shitty apartment, no friends, no hope. Maybe I’ll go back to the last place I had real ‘security’. Maybe. I’ll probably be killed if I turn up there, labelled as a deserter, I left Rab one man down at a time he really could’ve done with me, even after all that I promised him. Shame ain’t an easy game to win.

It wasn’t just him that I left. I left Tre, poor Tre, I love Tre. I hope she’s alright. I really hope so. She’s like some saintly grunge goddess, I’m sure I can see the halo. My Hathian savoir, she got me out of some really deep holes, and then into a couple warm ones too. That lady gets too much shit, she’s an icon, they should erect a statue, right in the middle of the road there outside Gein so all the cars have to swerve around it. Then there’s Lexii, her who’s generosity I took advantage of, or so it would’ve seemed when I left without word. It’d seem that way to all of them. All those who I begged for affection, for support, for security, for all the things that have fought to avoid me all my life.

Hathian is pulling me back, I can feel it. I’m afraid, sure, but I can’t stay away, I can‘t stay in this fuckin hole. Maybe they’ll understand, maybe they’ll all be dead - executed, or maybe I’ll last five seconds before they get me. All I know is that there’s closure there which I can’t find sat slumped in this corner, turning rotten with self-pity.

I’m gonna get rehabilitated, can’t do it alone, then I’ll see how I feel.

Keep watching over me Angels,
Mag