June 21, 2018
We have been walking all day long. The sky is full of clouds as usual. The sunshine is shining through sections of the clouds that creak into the sky. As Shell and I walked we watched all directions. We prayed practically that nobody would come at us shooting. Or the Fine’ army to surround us with as many men and guns as humanly possible. Luckily it didn’t happen. When we stopped for a short break about midday I took a look at myself. I’ve begun to regain as much color as the clouds would let me. Not only that I have also begun to fill back out. My arms are fattening back up from all of the muscle use I have been doing. I must be getting back to my original self again. My mind wandered back to my cell. The Hooded Man stood there in my face with his hood and pale fake face. The brief glimpse of this past gave me a shudder that Shell couldn’t help but notice. When she asked what the matter was, I only told her that I remembered the Hooded Man. She pressed it no further. All of my wounds and scars almost compliment my predicament nowadays. As we sipped on coffee we had prepared this morning, I inadvertently reminded myself of the guards I used to be accompanied by at the prison. Jeremiah, Anthony, Simon, and Jordan. Why was I remembering all of these people? Why am I remembering all of this? I wish to just lock away my memories and never let them escape. I do not wish to remember any of it. But I do… We didn’t encounter any resistance today. Nothing else then I suppose Journal. We have enough supplies to last us about another day. Considering the size of our bags, I have to constantly be eating in order to regain my strength. Shell does a good job with this. It’s almost like looking at Ellen. No… Cara. I wonder how she is being treated now that… What did she do? It was here that I remembered a faint recollection of my escape. Jordan was helping Cara escape as well if I remember correctly. I couldn’t quite clearly see, but I want to believe that they were using my escape to do the same for themselves. I wonder if they are being hunted like us. But I think to hard on such trivial matters, Journal. Till next I write.