I had, just now, an epiphany about how powerless I really am against the faceless abomination that stalks me.
All I can do is run. Sure, I sometimes find refuge in defiance, running towards and past him, like I did not care, but that's just buying time.
I run, I extend the time of my life, I survive. But there is no meaning. I cannot fight back, hell, I can't help anyone.
I can't even give a useful piece of advice or think up the right thing to say in a tense situation.
I realized this, I realized hard, when seeing how things are going in-between Jack and Stephanie, and Sandra, Lya and Matt. A few simple words would have made a world of difference, but I did not send them.
Fear of responsibility, I guess. Or just plain fear. I don't know really, and I should seriously have done something.
I sometimes wish that there was something I could do except running.