I cleaned the knife and put it back where it was supposed to go. I tore up the shirt and threw it into the garbage. I put the flashlight back. I can't do anything more right now. My legs go weak when I think about what happened.
I can't believe it. I killed something--it wasn't a person, but it was something alive. I stabbed it, I killed it myself. The look on its face...I don't think anyone had ever even considered trying to harm it. And if Ken was right, these things have been around for centuries. Heh, well, now one of them is gone.
I lazed around all of today. My body wouldn't let me do anything else. I turned on the TV, flipped the channels around, but all I could find that was remotely interesting was a news channel. And even that was boring. After I heard, "And police are still looking for Zeke Strahm, a man who is believed to have killed three people in the--" I snapped it off. I didn't want to hear about more death. Tried playing some video games, but I just couldn't see the point of them.
I had a nightmare last night about those things that dragged me back. Every time I think about them, I think they resemble tentacles. Little octopus tentacles, without the suckers. Stained with dirt, with little branches. They make me want to throw up.
Good God, what am I supposed to do? This isn't what was supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to do anything like this. I didn't think going to that place would lead to me killing something. And now Locust is the only one who knows where James is, and he is going to be angry. Very angry.