Maybe side effects like this existed as punishment. It certainly sounded like it was something along those lines, and he was pretty sure he deserved the punishment. He fucked up royally and he had to take it on the chin. He was going to be miserable and the prospect wasn't at all appealing. Nothing about this was appealing. He had to somehow find the balls to tell his foster parents what happened, and he knew they would be disappointed because they had been so kind to him, and tried to support him with everything. Even if it didn't seem possible, Zed ended up slumped even lower in the seat. His arm was propped up on the armrest and he nursed his head in his hand because he was overwhelmed, but who wouldn't be? On top of all the overwhelming shit, he had to put up with probably getting sick and he didn't want to be a bother to anyone. Which meant he would probably get sick alone, and feel even more miserable. "Yeah, alright. It's not like I don't deserve it. I'm not going to be one of those cocks who tries to make out I'm too up my own ass to accept help or respectfully follow advice. Whatever has to happen."
"I don't know. There's not a lot I know right now. In fact, I'd probably go so far as to say I don't know shit at the moment," he admitted tiredly. "I think it was because I didn't want to do it all again. Start all over again. The first time was hard enough, even though no one really knew that. I mean, I guess they knew I was some messed up kid, but I never spoke about it to anyone but the Witness Protection Officers and this really nice cop who has been great to me. No one knew anything. I left right after it happened. They just got me out of there straight away... and please, don't start talking to me about murderers being locked away and getting the death penalty or I'm getting up and leaving. There's only so much fucking bullshit one person can take in a week. Trust me, they don't just throw Witness Protection around unless it's vitally necessary and I just don't fucking feel like explaining everything all over again to try to justify why they did it. They did, it saved my life. End of story. Because if my father didn't kill me, I would've killed myself. Karla, I might be Positive. What's to feel safe about that?"
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"I don't know. There's not a lot I know right now. In fact, I'd probably go so far as to say I don't know shit at the moment," he admitted tiredly. "I think it was because I didn't want to do it all again. Start all over again. The first time was hard enough, even though no one really knew that. I mean, I guess they knew I was some messed up kid, but I never spoke about it to anyone but the Witness Protection Officers and this really nice cop who has been great to me. No one knew anything. I left right after it happened. They just got me out of there straight away... and please, don't start talking to me about murderers being locked away and getting the death penalty or I'm getting up and leaving. There's only so much fucking bullshit one person can take in a week. Trust me, they don't just throw Witness Protection around unless it's vitally necessary and I just don't fucking feel like explaining everything all over again to try to justify why they did it. They did, it saved my life. End of story. Because if my father didn't kill me, I would've killed myself. Karla, I might be Positive. What's to feel safe about that?"