In the blink of an eye, a week has flown by. Only seven days ago, I had Ali's blood on my hands. Carrying his limp body to Amanda's glossy truck during nightfall, is another memory that I will try to repress for the remainder of my life.
I can barely recall how I managed to get myself into bed that night. All I remember is Amanda leading me to a guest room at her place; one that Eddie and I would be sharing. I found all my belongings deposited near the door -- a clear sign that I was no longer welcome at Hector's cabin.
Part of me was raging mad at being turfed out of Hector's place, but I didn't rise to it. Why? Because I couldn't shake that feeling of guilt that had engulfed me these past seven days, nor could I interpret the accusing glares I was receiving from Gomez in any other way.
