Chapter 29 - Return to the Pizzaplex

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Michael wanted to go to the pizzaplex first thing the next morning, but I refused. We had to get there as soon as possible and start our mission. Waiting would just give Vanny more time to plot some evil scheme. Besides, I couldn't rest easy with the image of my mom flashing every time I closed my eyes. He begrudgingly agreed, on the account that I took a nap before we left. He said it'd be bad for me to exert myself after such "emotional turmoil," as he described it. Though, because my mom's image had burned into my brain, I wasn't really able to sleep. I couldn't even sleep in my room. It was weird being in the same house that my mother's still corpse laid in. Michael had unlocked his car, lowered the front seat down, and brought me a couple blankets, letting me rest there. In the meantime, Michael was gathering things he deemed important enough to bring along.

I didn't sleep at first. I hugged Bowtie close to me as I tried to relax. Michael came out a few brief moments later, opening up the car door to the back seats and putting down something. He then quietly shut the door and walked away again. He didn't come back for quite some time.

When I realized I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep, I peeked over my seat to see the back. The row was lined with suitcases and luggage, which were all the things Michael had packed before he began his trek back down here. There was a backpack sitting on top of one of the suitcases, which I realized was what Michael had brought in; it was one of the old hiker backpacks that we had lying around the house.

I was so curious as to what Michael had in his bags. The suitcases were most likely filled with clothes, but in the space between the front and back seats of the car was a small tote bag. Why'd he bring so many things?

I leaned over the seat and grabbed the handle, picking up the bag and placing it in my lap. "What are you doing?" Bowtie asked me.

"I just wanna see what's inside," I said. I stuck my hand inside and felt what I assumed was a notebook. I pulled out what was more of a small sketchbook. The front topped with stickers with encouraging messages. I was reminded of Chica's gift to Roxy, and how she had made a scrapbook that was also decorated in a similar way. I opened the sketchbook to the first page.

"You're so nosy," Bowtie scoffed at me, but then it inched closer. "Move, I wanna see too," it said. I exhaled a bit when I tried to stifle my giggle. I fixated Bowtie on the ledge between the two front seats and shared the sketchbook with it.

The first page was not what I was expecting. There was a doodle of a skeleton sitting next to a flag, and beneath it was a pledge in red ink; "I solemnly swear to accept life's toughest challenges, to give myself time to process my grievances, and to stay true to my virtues of kindness and solidarity. Unless I see William. Then it's on sight." A blue side note was written in different handwriting, "Not funny, Michael!" I didn't know who William was, but I was going to guess Michael wasn't a big fan of them.

The following pages were full of small collections of doodles and drawings with a recount of what had happened that day. Each page had a date in the upper hand corner, and the red and blue ink showed up. The red ink was obviously Michael. It covered most of the pages, was used to write his entries, and most drawings were made up with it. The blue ink was someone else, and it was as if it was responding to his journal entries, giving him advice, criticisms, or congratulations depending on how his day went. The beginning was pretty boring, as it was clear Michael was getting used to this set up. He didn't express himself very much and he seemed to only be fulfilling a requirement. It was around a quarter through when the entries became much more intriguing.

There was a drawing of who I assumed was Michael barely able to stand connected to an IV, just like the one I had in my hospital room. Around him in bold lettering read, "I hate my blood. Why must it be yours? I wish I could empty myself."

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