61 CAMERON CAITIFF
November 10
It was 4:00 AM. I’d been at home since the shooting at the bank, but I hadn’t slept in 3 days. The Sergeant told me to take the rest of the week off. I felt like a piece of s**t accepting the time away, but I couldn’t bear the thought of going back. I was tired. Exhausted, actually. I wanted to sleep, but I just couldn’t. Scrolling through my phone, I cringed at the number of missed calls from Charlotte’s number. She probably knew what had happened by now, but I didn’t want to talk to her. Especially not while I was attempting to drown my memories in Canadian Club. I was hoping the liquor would numb the pain. Maybe get the smell of blood and vomit out of my head, but it just made me dizzy every time I got up to piss. I must’ve blacked out for a few hours be
