The Beach

Everybody stares at Drew's arms. Like, everybody, and it's really not helping the mood when everybody we meet either treats us with suspicion or pity. He's also moping around like a little girl all the time, so overall this road trip is starting to suck. Not that we're still on the road at the moment, since petrol is far too expensive to justify not hanging around for a couple of days.

We're at the beach for now, because I guess Mum used to take us all the time when we were young and we have nowhere to go anyway. Drew feels like being nostalgic now he can't use the laptop for much of anything, which I guess is a better response than the anxiety and moodiness I was expecting. He's been doing a lot of reading lately, going over all of the stuff we got back from the cops now I spend more time on the laptop than him. Which is kinda alright, I guess. He's not supposed to be doing anything that involves frequent arm and wrist movements, but he seems to insist on adding more nonsense theories whenever he thinks I'm not looking, and that involves writing - which is bad.

The beach is nice, though, since Drew can't go anywhere near the sand for fear of getting it under his bandages. Some time apart has been pretty awesome, if I'm going to be honest. I missed the kid while he was away, but living with each other isn't exactly conducive to getting along all the time, especially in the situation we find ourselves in. Plus I haven't been swimming since Drew showed up at my house, so that's nice too, even if Autumn isn't exactly the perfect time to be out there for it.

So I guess everything's cool, apart from nightmares all the time, the dwindling amount of money we have and nowhere to go nor anybody to go to. But we push on. Stiff upper lip and all that.