You know, head injuries aren't conducive to rational decisions. Yes, you took your clothes off, and you don't know why you did it, or whether it was supposed to help. There, you said it.
Naked and bleeding from a sliver of glass still embedded in your temple, you run towards the boy who, understandably, flees. Who wouldn't with a naked bleeding person in hot pursuit?
You skid to a stop, almost slipping on the trail of blood your profusely bleeding head has deposited onto the ground. Another player has entered! She has the suspicious, steely gaze of a Child Protective Services investigator. She wraps a blanket around the boy.
You didn't mean for it to come to this. How the hell did it come to this? Maybe you should turn yourself in, get your head looked at really good, find out how you arrived at this point. You shake your head, chasing away phantoms of thought.
You have a son, who's probably still at school while his deranged parents runs around chasing a kid who looks like him. A terrible thought eclipses everything else: what if it is really your son you were chasing?