Annabel
I drag through the motions of living. Check into the Sheraton. Get some new clothes. Shower. Feed myself.
It all feels like swimming through mud.
My mind is forever circling Charlie. Wishing I’d said I loved him. Wondering where he is. If he needs help. If he’s a danger to others.
Did I do the right thing not putting him down?
I have to believe I did. His mind and rational thoughts were intact—he just struggled with animal urges. He’ll figure it out.
Except guilt gnaws at me.
I should be with him, helping him figure it out.
The way he helped me.
Why did I let him go off alone? He needs me.
I force myself to move forward, the way I know Charlie expects me to. I make multiple copies of the confession to safeguard it, then log in and file an official CIA report on what went
