I hadn't told anyone the truth about myself since I'd left home. I'd thought about telling several friends and lovers along the way, thought about telling Henry, but always held back in the end and it always seemed to drive them away. I can't lie to myself, I've missed having someone close to me through these three years, someone who could know me. I almost told Henry several times, but like all the rest, I chose to keep him in the dark, but keep him nonetheless as long as I could. I always prefer an ignorant friend to an enlightened yet unbelieving confidant. I've felt like this many times since I left, felt like screaming at strangers because I didn't have the courage to hazard a friendship. But somehow I always resist attacking them with my story. I resist telling them that all penitent sinners and good little boys don't go to heaven when they die, they sometimes come back to L.A. I resist telling them that no one up there gives a damn if they've been naughty or nice anyway. I resist screaming at them to quit their dreary jobs and change their dreary lives because if they don't remember, then this is all they'll ever get. I resist telling them because I want to keep up the facade, for my own sake, so that I might still pretend to be like them. In the end, I always take my facade home and tell myself the stories again just to make sure I haven't forgotten them. I forget nothing.

They must have all tired of me resisting temptation because the bus was empty when it reached my stop. The back doors opened and I stepped onto the curb of the dark deserted L.A. street without looking in the driver’s direction. The bus pulled away and disappeared around the corner, taking all signs of life with it. The surrounding streets were poorly lit and devoid of automobiles or pedestrians. I've always felt at home in this type of desolation as though these abandoned neighborhoods beckoned me to release them from their shame and solitude. I had purposefully picked a bus stop ten blocks from the warehouse and began to walk in that direction, picking up four medium sized stones along the way.

The lone light down the alley behind the warehouse was still on and shined just brightly enough for me to find the key. I put on the gloves, took off the backpack and stepped inside. A faint air of solvents crept down from the second floor.