I don’t know how long I stared at her until she recognized that I was not going to respond and left the room. An hour or so later my parents checked me out and took me home. As soon as I walked through the door, I headed to the basement to play my guitar. My dad had to help me get down the stairs because I was so weak, but I finally was reunited to Leslie. That’s what I called my main guitar since it was a Les Paul. I had a knack of naming things I was attached to, and it didn’t seem right giving it a guy’s name.
At first, I was having a ball, rocking out to some of the songs I usually warmed up with, but after a little bit I lost any ambition to play. This was really odd. I hadn’t felt that way since eighth grade. Now that I was pretty good, I really enjoyed playing. For some reason, I just had no motivation. I was really glad to be home, but something just didn’t seem right. I tried blaming it on the diaper, but it wasn’t that. I felt cold inside, like something was missing. As I just sat there, idly holding my guitar, my thoughts shifted to Tori. I really wanted to see her. Granted there wasn’t much time for her to visit me, I was surprised she didn’t. You would think that you would visit someone in the hospital if they just saved your life. But that was it. It would almost be better if she just forgot the incident. Any visit or conversation she would have with me would just be obligatory to her. It would only be pity.