She has started keeping diary. Don’t know from where she managed to find a notebook and a pen, but there they are, stuffed in her backpack. Every night before we go to sleep she takes them out and spends couple of minutes, scribbling down things we have seen and things we have done. She won’t let me see her writings. Not that I have even asked, it’s her stuff, but she guards that book like it was more important than her own fucking life. Makes me wonder.

She claims it’s just something to keep her occupied. Keep her occupied? On top of making me curious she has managed to make me jealous over a pile of paper and ink. Like those few minutes she spends hunched over that book are somehow away from me. Like I’m not enough to ‘keep her occupied’. Luckily that green monster slouching on my shoulders is easy to get rid of. All Marie has to do is to put away that notebook and the pen, and give me a smile, and I’m feeling a world-class asshole for glaring at her hobby.

“Do you ever wonder…” Every day, honey. Every day.
“What would have happened if I hadn’t gotten in to your trailer?” Nope. Haven’t really thought about it. I have tried a few times. Ended up drooling under a table and got permanently banned from both of those bars.
“No. Why?”
“I have been thinking about it lately. I’m closer to hundred and fifty years old now. Wouldn’t have lived this long if I hadn’t met you.” No. You would have probably died back there, somewhere close Laughlin. You were ready to keel over when I found you hiding from under that tarp.
“Do you regret it?” Don’t. Don’t regret. Say something.
“Can we just go to sleep? I’m… I’m kind of tired. It was a long day.”

And with that said she rolls on her side. Nice. Does she really think she gets off the hook that easily?
“Marie.”
“Yeah?”
“I asked you a question…”
“I will answer to it as soon as I figure out something to say. Can we please go to sleep now?”
“Yeah… I guess…”

Christ. Sleep? Well, I won’t be sleeping before she answers to that fucking question. How the hell can I sleep? Shouldn’t it be easy to answer? Simple yes or no. Of course I’m hoping the latter, but either one would do right now. Either one to strip off ice that’s forming inside of me. Fuck. I feel sick.

Come on. Wake up already. It’s six o’clock. Wake up. Wake up. We have an unfinished conversation going on. Remember? The one where I asked if you regret hitching a ride from me. I have had that conversation on my own for hundred times last night while you slept. Come on, Marie! Wake the fuck up! Please…? Wake up? Before I do something very unmanly. Like fucking wet myself out of fear. Wouldn’t rule out bawling my eyes out, either, from all the not so nice and humiliating options. Wake up!

“Marie…” Jesus. Have to clear my throat. I’m croaking like a fucking crow.
“Marie?”
“Mmmhmngh?”
“Sorry. Did I wake you up?”
“Whatssthetime…”
“Ten past six.”
“Were leaving early?”
“Nope.” Remember. Fucking remember. I don’t want to have to remind you.
“Is this about last night?” Well, what the fuck do you think?
“You haven’t slept at all.” Nope. Kind of hard to roll over and sleep when all I wanted to do was to rattle you awake and demand an answer.
“Logan… I don’t know. That’s an honest answer. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” How the fuck you can’t know?
“I… There’s a reason why I have started writing that diary.” Uh-huh?
“I have started to forget things. At first it was just small things. Things that had happened few days ago. Then I noticed one day, that I couldn’t remember the color of the cloak I had on when I saw you for the first time. I still remember climbing in to your trailer, and how cold it was. I remember how angry you were when you found me, then there’s this big, black hole, and next thing I remember I’m trapped in that machine and you’re standing in front of me and…”
“Green.”
“What?”
“Your cloak. It was green. Dark forest green. You had dark-brown leather gloves and you kept taking them off and putting them back on again. You wore blue jeans. Dark blue. And brown boots. Worn down, they had nearly white patches on toes and heels. You had showered last time about a week ago, eaten three days ago, and last trucker, the one who left you in Laughlin had offered to take you even further, but you thought there was something wrong with him so you decided to try your luck with somebody else.”
“Logan…”
“Marie, I remember. You can take that stuff from me. You don’t need a book to keep those memories safe.”

We haven’t touched for nearly five years now. Not in that special way. She doesn’t need it anymore. She has gotten so many hits from my mutation, that it’s lodged to her genetic structure for good. But if that’s what it takes to keep her sane and her memories safe, hell she can drain me every fucking day!

“Do you regret?” So fucking dizzy… Can’t keep my eyes open… Had already forgotten what it was like… She really packs a punch…
“Do you regret?” Answer me goddamned! … Can’t stay conscious much… Longer…
“No.”