January 26th. The day when nothing remarkable happens to anyone else.

Man, who did you piss off today? Laundry and kitchen? Just take the damn drugs next time, Blanky, you might live longer.

At least when I bugger-up, I do it consistently.

You won't fit in around here, Skid," he said lightly. "A do-gooder like you can burn out fast.

This is the place of nightmares in so many ways, but there's nightmares on the outside, too, and one day, when you're not even looking for it, you'll find something perfect in here, and you'll feel whole. Hold onto that.

You're not broken. You're perfect. And when you get to get away from these kids, you might finally have a good man.

Not a day has gone by, he said. Poor Jos. Days had gone by for me. It wasn't that I had forgotten about him, I always knew that he was out there. It just stopped seeming to matter. I was already dead. I had already moved on into this afterlife. I was someplace that he could never follow, nor would I want him to. Poor Jos. All this time, and he has been the one trapped.

It surprised me that I was already using the past tense. People I knew. As if I didn't know them anymore.

I am the collector of the past.

I went from a morning of fear and panic to mind-boggling confusion, to an overwhelming sense of guilt, to stuffing a pair of socks down my pants.