Bad things have happened.
I got out of the cage on the third night.
I don't know how it happened, I just know I hit the bars the right way and just- I don't know- got loose.
The scariest thing about it was I actually don't remember what I did. I remember the cage, I remember eating the last pig, I remember breaking free, and then- nothing.
It's like-the wolf took over.
In the past, there was always memory.
But not this time. I woke up under the Williamsburg Bridge, and there was blood on my chest.
I'm afraid I've done something awful.
Jesus, Christ- my life is spinning out of control.
I don't want to be a killer.
I'd rather die.
Maybe I will.